I know I've been crap at posting things lately and I'm still not really writing anything now. I got my wallet stolen yesterday and I'm bummed out. But to keep the faithful interested, here are a few things I found on the internet. enjoy!
Art of Luke Cheuh, especially this one
Bizarre and wonderful Les Rita Mitsouko
eschew the predictable pumpkin jack-o-lantern
Hokusai in plastic- an poignant statement on the state of the oceans (click through the slide show). The same amount of plastic it took to create this piece is dumped into the ocean every hour.
never forget the periodic table of elements
Drunk History
Lady Gaga in plaid shorts and a polo shirt
and if by now you are still clicking through these links: superpoop
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
a bike ride
I ride my bike along the Rhine to work everyday. The route is like the sea wall except instead of an ocean there is a big, fast flowing river snaking along beside you. The path is leafy green and flat. The river boats fight the current upstream with bellies lying low to the water and heavy with commodity. The Rhine is a thoroughfare for boats and bikers, who can both enjoy about 650km of navigation in and along its watery path from Switzerland to Rotterdam's maze at the mouth of the Rhine and the edge of the North Sea.
I bike against the current in the morning, feeling that endless and massive flow of water working against me, trying to turn me around and take me with it. All that water, every second, every curl and eddy, is constantly leaving that river. Nothing that defines the river is ever contained in it for very long. Every answer a river whispers to you is a question contained in narrow parentheses, scarring the landscape with meandering meanings that slack and slick and disappear. This is different than living on the edge of the Pacific, which will out outlive us all by countless millennia, perched between our knowing and the unreachable horizon, pooling energy into a wordless om.
In the evening I flow with the river, handsfree on my bike and something really good on my ipod. Rain or shine the joggers jog, the river rolls us all along back into downtown Bonn and tips me out near the bridge, back into the limits of blocks and buildings and grocery stores already packing in their wares for the evening. I weave through town on streets seemingly too narrow to hold the traffic they contain. At the central station I duck under train tracks that rattle with the expresses and regionals clanking progress towards tightly timed stops. When I emerge from the underpass the path is a long expanse of green hemmed in with apartment blocks elegantly attired in chiseled garlands and stony cherubs. This is the Poppelsdorfer: a line of green grass stretching from the university to the east all the way to the buttery yellow western palace. Halfway along this long narrow park Baumschulallee cuts through with a sudden expanse of tired pavement. Just off this corner is my apartment building. I can see the entry way where I imagine I will shortly park my bike and climb the flights of stairs to my house. But I have been stuck between the fleeting freedom of this new river and my desire for the heavy permanence of the Pacific all day and I'm having a hard time figuring out where home is. So I keep riding around, letting my bike ride stretch further and further into the evening until I am back beside the Rhine watching it slide past me in dark slicks of curled water.
I bike against the current in the morning, feeling that endless and massive flow of water working against me, trying to turn me around and take me with it. All that water, every second, every curl and eddy, is constantly leaving that river. Nothing that defines the river is ever contained in it for very long. Every answer a river whispers to you is a question contained in narrow parentheses, scarring the landscape with meandering meanings that slack and slick and disappear. This is different than living on the edge of the Pacific, which will out outlive us all by countless millennia, perched between our knowing and the unreachable horizon, pooling energy into a wordless om.
In the evening I flow with the river, handsfree on my bike and something really good on my ipod. Rain or shine the joggers jog, the river rolls us all along back into downtown Bonn and tips me out near the bridge, back into the limits of blocks and buildings and grocery stores already packing in their wares for the evening. I weave through town on streets seemingly too narrow to hold the traffic they contain. At the central station I duck under train tracks that rattle with the expresses and regionals clanking progress towards tightly timed stops. When I emerge from the underpass the path is a long expanse of green hemmed in with apartment blocks elegantly attired in chiseled garlands and stony cherubs. This is the Poppelsdorfer: a line of green grass stretching from the university to the east all the way to the buttery yellow western palace. Halfway along this long narrow park Baumschulallee cuts through with a sudden expanse of tired pavement. Just off this corner is my apartment building. I can see the entry way where I imagine I will shortly park my bike and climb the flights of stairs to my house. But I have been stuck between the fleeting freedom of this new river and my desire for the heavy permanence of the Pacific all day and I'm having a hard time figuring out where home is. So I keep riding around, letting my bike ride stretch further and further into the evening until I am back beside the Rhine watching it slide past me in dark slicks of curled water.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
My new campaign... something really near and dear. Please help!
Help fight homesickness! Send a letter/drawing/poem/favorite joke/etc to:
Angeline Gough
Apt. 9, Baumschulallee 2, Bonn, Germany 53115
All donations graciously accepted. You CAN make a difference.
Angeline Gough
Apt. 9, Baumschulallee 2, Bonn, Germany 53115
All donations graciously accepted. You CAN make a difference.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Music festival fail
I admit to having a nasty case of FOMO that keeps flaring up. It give me itchy feet and fidgety hands. I get anxious and easily irritated. I can't focus and enjoy what is happening in front of me because I'm always wondering what else is going on. FOMO, for the uninitiated, means Fear Of Missing Out.
Imagine you are at some party and everyone is having a good time... except you. YOU said you'd be at another party a half an hour ago and you can't help wondering 1) what that other party is like 2) if, when you leave this party, something great will happen that you will miss 3) why you said you'd go to this party, and that party, and then meet a friend at that other party at 12.
Or maybe...
You are at a show and your friend texts you to go to an party after the show, but you are tired because you've been out too much and work is stressing you out and you really need some sleep. So you decide not to go. Later you either A) lie in bed wondering if the party was good B) get a text saying "where you at????" when you are already in bed and actually think about getting dressed and going downtown again or C) wake up the next day with red-rimmed eyes, deep bags, and stinky hair and wonder why you didn't just go home when you had the chance.
If you are nodding you head to any of the above, you may have FOMO. Don't worry, I think its like a worldwide phenomenon these days. Who can avoid it? We're a dialed in, notified, up-to-date, and to-the-minute culture. I mean, I can get your 50-word blargh about what you ate for breakfast automatically sent to me on my mobile phone seconds after you finish stuffing your face. Is it possible to be too dialed-in? ... to the point that we can't be satisfied with our present situation when the greener grass is always just a tweet away?
Despite the itchiness, anxiety, and occasional sleep deprivation, I think the answer is NO.
Case in point: I decide to chill out for a week. Take it slow. Let my body adjust to my new surroundings in Germany and just forget about trying to see what the world is up to. And what happens? I miss the best frickin' concert I will probably see in Germany this year: http://www.haldern-pop.de/de/festival/programm/
Beach house, Yeasayer, The Tallest Man on Earth, The National, Jose Gonzalez, The Low Anthem, Beirut and more... all at a 7500 person outdoor festival in the middle of the German countryside. erp.
I will never deny my FOMO again. It only gets worse when you find out that what you missed out on was really, really awesome.
Imagine you are at some party and everyone is having a good time... except you. YOU said you'd be at another party a half an hour ago and you can't help wondering 1) what that other party is like 2) if, when you leave this party, something great will happen that you will miss 3) why you said you'd go to this party, and that party, and then meet a friend at that other party at 12.
Or maybe...
You are at a show and your friend texts you to go to an party after the show, but you are tired because you've been out too much and work is stressing you out and you really need some sleep. So you decide not to go. Later you either A) lie in bed wondering if the party was good B) get a text saying "where you at????" when you are already in bed and actually think about getting dressed and going downtown again or C) wake up the next day with red-rimmed eyes, deep bags, and stinky hair and wonder why you didn't just go home when you had the chance.
If you are nodding you head to any of the above, you may have FOMO. Don't worry, I think its like a worldwide phenomenon these days. Who can avoid it? We're a dialed in, notified, up-to-date, and to-the-minute culture. I mean, I can get your 50-word blargh about what you ate for breakfast automatically sent to me on my mobile phone seconds after you finish stuffing your face. Is it possible to be too dialed-in? ... to the point that we can't be satisfied with our present situation when the greener grass is always just a tweet away?
Despite the itchiness, anxiety, and occasional sleep deprivation, I think the answer is NO.
Case in point: I decide to chill out for a week. Take it slow. Let my body adjust to my new surroundings in Germany and just forget about trying to see what the world is up to. And what happens? I miss the best frickin' concert I will probably see in Germany this year: http://www.haldern-pop.de/de/festival/programm/
Beach house, Yeasayer, The Tallest Man on Earth, The National, Jose Gonzalez, The Low Anthem, Beirut and more... all at a 7500 person outdoor festival in the middle of the German countryside. erp.
I will never deny my FOMO again. It only gets worse when you find out that what you missed out on was really, really awesome.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Europe's biggest flea market
This weekend! be there or be square...
Antiques, art, deadwood and second-hand articles - spread out over a length of 4 kilometers in the magnificent ambiance of the Rheinaue Park.
YES!
Antiques, art, deadwood and second-hand articles - spread out over a length of 4 kilometers in the magnificent ambiance of the Rheinaue Park.
YES!
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