julien & me, sangria at bar dix, odéon, paris, november 2013
"In thought, a fine human brow is like the East when troubled with the morning. In the repose of the pasture, the curled brow of the bull has a touch of the grand in it. Pushing heavy cannon up mountain defiles, the elephant’s brow is majestic. Human or animal, the mystical brow is as that great golden seal affixed by the German Emperors to their decrees. It signifies- “God: done this day by my hand.” But in most creatures, nay in man himself, very often the brow is but a mere strip of alpine land lying along the snow line. Few are the foreheads which like Shakespeare’s or Melancthon’s rise so high, and descend so low, that the eyes themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless mountain lakes; and above them in the forehead’s wrinkles, you seem to track the antlered thoughts descending there to drink, as the Highland hunters track the snow prints of the deer. But in the great Sperm Whale, this high and mighty god-like dignity inherent in the brow is so immensely amplified, that gazing on it, in that full front view, you feel the Deity and the dread powers more forcibly than in beholding any other object in living nature. For you see no one point precisely; not one distinct feature is revealed; no nose, eyes, cars, or mouth; no face; he has none, proper; nothing but that one broad firmament of a forehead, pleated with riddles; dumbly lowering with the doom of boats, and ships, and men. Nor, in profile, does this wondrous brow diminish; though that way viewed its grandeur does not domineer upon you so. In profile, you plainly perceive that horizontal, semi-crescentic depression in the forehead’s middle, which, in a man, is Lavater’s mark of genius."
Herman Melville, Moby Dick
(h/t Evan; refound by this here ‘plaintive-browed Mary’)
Russian photographer Alexey Kljatov has created what some would pay thousands for. Using just a $50 lens taped to his Canon Powershot A650, he has taken beautiful macro photos of snowflakes.
“‘There must be a cause why snow has the shape of a six-cornered starlet,’ Kepler wrote in De nive sexangula. ‘It cannot be chance.’” —courtesy of Nature
gratitude: tarte aux potirons.
There is no shortage of folk and country songs about booze. But what makes the Mandolin Orange tune “Waltz About Whiskey” so enchanting is its effortlessness. Watch the rising folk duo perform the song live for FolkAlley.
I, for one, would be interested in singing this duo. Any takers?
"Homer had chosen to symbolize the soul’s acquisition of its vestment of matter by the weaving of purple garments on stone, just as flesh is woven over the bones and suffused with mortal blood."
Catherine Hansen, CABINET // Colors / Porphyry
"On a very basic level, nostalgia builds what researchers like to call self-continuity—the idea we need to have of ourselves as a cohesive whole, as beings that make some kind of sense."
Cindy Ok, The upside of nostalgia
(courtesy of The Yale Herald)