via Other-Wordly
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Quilted
Sitting here wondering why my mother has yet to make me an orange and black quilt...
via blackbird designs
via blackbird designs
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
“I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us”
Let's just take a moment to imagine that this is true (I'm pretty sure it isn't...)
but I'm too lazy to do the research.
In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought. An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.
Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn’t even hear. After four days, the man claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man’s concerns.
Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of the scientists. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.
After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.
Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his non-functional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of hell and the end of the world. At one point, he yelled “No heaven, no forgiveness” for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but the scientists were convinced that he was close to establishing contact with God.
After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with a scientist for the first time in the study. He whispered “I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us” and his vital signs stopped. There was no apparent cause of death.
via ThisisHolly
but I'm too lazy to do the research.
In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought. An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.
Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn’t even hear. After four days, the man claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man’s concerns.
Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of the scientists. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.
After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.
Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his non-functional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of hell and the end of the world. At one point, he yelled “No heaven, no forgiveness” for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but the scientists were convinced that he was close to establishing contact with God.
After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with a scientist for the first time in the study. He whispered “I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us” and his vital signs stopped. There was no apparent cause of death.
via ThisisHolly
Monday, October 7, 2013
October Country
This documentary first caught my eye last year...because of the title, naturally.
But as I watched it, I became a little too fascinated by it.
It's incredibly awkward and real, and reminded me so much of so many families I've known in rural West Virginia.
It's that horrible train-wreck that you can't stop looking at, as you hate yourself for gawking.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Werewolf
I could liken you to a werewolf, the way you left me for dead
But I admit that I provided a full moon...
-F.Apple
image via Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault and Sarah Moon
Friday, October 4, 2013
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Monday, September 30, 2013
Directing the Dead
I choose to refer to Ray Crawford as an undertaker; it has to it, a certain je ne sais quoi that can only be matched by
the personality of the individual that chooses it as a profession.
He calls himself a funeral director, which I find a tad overzealous seeing as though
his clients aren’t particularly ‘directable’; nor are they notably opposed to
his choreography for their big debut in that pine-box of a
stage. However, it appeases my mind to imagine him down there in his workshop, stringing
up the dead like marionettes and skillfully painting their faces with a
squirrel-haired Bob Ross brush...all the while spouting off good-humored and
unreciprocated Bob Ross banter.
 |
You make sure you bury the next one deep Ray, but not so deep that the Lord can’t find him. |
via Cozine.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Sunday Night Cinema: The Story of a Murderer.
I forgot that I own this movie...and how much I love it.
This guy plays a fantastic creep.
This guy plays a fantastic creep.
 |
| click Jean-Baptiste |
Hidden
I have never found a companion as companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men, than when we stay in our chambers. A man who is thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will...
- Henry David Thoreau
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
What mental torture looks like...
A letter from schizophrenic Emma Hauck to her husband.
It consists of only phrase "Herzensschatzi komm" (Sweetheart please come) and "komm komm komm" (come, come, come ) repeated over and over.
It consists of only phrase "Herzensschatzi komm" (Sweetheart please come) and "komm komm komm" (come, come, come ) repeated over and over.
I Got a Name.
If I ever make a movie, there will be a murderous rampage set to this song.
I don't know why...but it just feels right.
I guess for now, I'll just listen to it on repeat and think murderous thoughts.
I don't know why...but it just feels right.
 |
| click Patrick. |
I guess for now, I'll just listen to it on repeat and think murderous thoughts.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Zombie Feeder
That Chickadee has no idea how ruthless it looks.
I also think it would be funny to tape a picture of a friend/family member/loved ones face over the zombies face, invite the friend/family member/loved one over...then casually take them outside...
I'd probably add some meat too...you know, so the vultures come.
Solitude
In the world of the
dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the
moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with
action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match
the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight
into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of
remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.
-Anais Nin
image found here
Friday, September 20, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
A Brain is a Terrible Thing to Waste.
I could watch this woman talk for hours.
Amazing story, amazing neuroanatomist.
and a beautifully eloquent lesson in anatomy.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Speak of the Devil.
My heart's made of parts of all that surrounds me
And that's why the Devil just can't get around me
And that's why the Devil just can't get around me
-Fiona Apple, 'Every Single Night'
image found here.
Why, oh why...
Do things like this no longer happen.
I want to reside in that little house back there.
image found here.
 | ||||||||
| 1940s National Biscuit Co. Halloween Spiced Wafer Box and Canco Halloween tin. |
I want to reside in that little house back there.
image found here.
Where Halloween masks go to die.
I was at a flea market a few weeks ago and I spotted a Frankenstein mask very similar to the one pictured here. When I went over to investigate, I found several others...a witch, devil, gorilla, and so on. Most of them were on the floor, in the dirt, behind a big, elaborate case. I knocked over a few priceless antiques and made my way to them...they were all dirty, stapled together and cracked in several places. I thought about rescuing them for posterity sake, they obviously weren't where they should be. But I flipped over their little price-tags...only to discover that I'm pretty sure the keepers of the shop knew what they had...they just didn't care. Meanwhile, in that big elaborate case, locked up from Halloween scoundrels, was a string of vintage Christmas lights...from the 50's...still in their original box...with a little handwritten sign that read 'fragile'.
Christmas: for assholes.
image found here.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
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