Eating an Animal by J.C.

My daughter is nearly two years old. Our conversations are littered with vast and deflating misunderstandings, as well as with painfully beautiful moments of concurrence in linguistic contingency. It is routinely an ecstatic experience; at least for me it is ecstatic, for her, I can't be certain. 

"What did you eat when you were at the farm today Honey? 

"..."

"When you were at the cafe, at the farm, with the animals, what did you eat?"

"...Eat. Animals!"

"..."

There is an oft repeated tale from my youth that culminates in my father - a career scientist and leisurely atheist - taking a solemn vow of abstinence from red meat. I'll regale you with it now, if that's ok;

We were driving along somewhere, one day in rural hertfordshire, when we drove past a field of spring lambs. 

"Why are those sheep in the field Dad?"

"..."

And he never ate red meat, willingly, ever again, to this day.

by J.W.

Ms. Feldman wears long sleeves and gloves.

But the oil paints gave her nausea and headaches. What was the point of creating environmental art, she thought, if the toxicity of the process was making her sick? (Leave that kind of performance-art masochism to Marina Abramovic.)

And its tendrils need constant burying.

Excruciatingly slow knitters may want to buy some time by growing madder from seed.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/05/garden/a-new-generation-discovers-grow-it-yourself-dyes.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=garden

Polar Skate Co; Pontus Alv

The sample is from Poltergeist

trill; 2008.

Freda Payne

The most appropriate name

Tight Belt; Baggy jeans

DJ Screw

Congratulations if you're stoned enough to enjoy this classic

The Grim Reaper