James Kunstler: How bad architecture wrecked cities
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1ZeXnmDZMQ
Submitted September 04, 2017 at 02:14AM by connardnumero1
via reddit http://bit.ly/2eAf091
@PensivePost #ted
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1ZeXnmDZMQ
Submitted September 04, 2017 at 02:14AM by connardnumero1
via reddit http://bit.ly/2eAf091
@PensivePost #ted
YouTube
James Kunstler: How bad architecture wrecked cities
http://www.ted.com In James Howard Kunstler's view, public spaces should be inspired centers of civic life and the physical manifestation of the common good. Instead, he argues, what we have in America is a nation of places not worth caring about.
TEDTalks…
TEDTalks…
If somehow I eventually go blind from excessive technology use, there's a good chance technology will give me the ability to see again.
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
Actors are really just our society's best liars, and we revere them. What does that say about us?
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
@PensivePost #RandomThoughts
Expectoration
It sounded as if someone just inside the twilit woods had spit suddenly, though my eyes could make out nothing among the trees. I was debating between someone's watching me and it's just a deer stepping on some grass when the man cleared his throat and spit again.
@PensivePost #2lines
It sounded as if someone just inside the twilit woods had spit suddenly, though my eyes could make out nothing among the trees. I was debating between someone's watching me and it's just a deer stepping on some grass when the man cleared his throat and spit again.
@PensivePost #2lines
The lady from my nightmares
This happened today. I am vibrating. I have either come entirely undone, or something very fucked up is actually happening to me. I can’t tell anyone I know. They wouldn’t believe me and they would bring me to a hospital. Maybe that’s what I really need. But I know I’m not delusional. Everything I thought I knew about reality is in the blender right now. I don’t know how else to put it. I think I am losing my mind.When I was a little girl, I had this recurring nightmare. And even though it’s been twenty years since I last experienced these nightmares, I can still recall them so well, so vividly, better than any other childhood memory.In my dreams, I always awoke in the dead of night with every light in the house turned on. I would wander out of my room, confused, looking for my mom and dad. They were never there. The whole, fully lit house would be empty, even my dog was gone, and I would start panicking. After checking the house I’d go back to my room, terrified, and I’d cover myself up in my blankets and hide. That’s when I’d hear the clicking on my bedroom window. It was her nails. I’d peek out from under the sheets and I’d see her face there, next to her impossibly long fingers, tapping at the corner of my window. I have shivers typing this.I can picture her face as easily as I can picture my own mother’s. She was kind of pretty. Black hair, button nose, but her smile. Her wide mouth just smiled wildly at me and she wouldn’t look away. Her deranged eyes locked into mine and I’d find that I couldn’t look away either. I was drawn to her. Despite my fear, I would slowly approach my window as if I were being pulled. And every time, just as I were about to open my window to let her in, I would wake up.I hadn’t thought of these dreams in years. At the time, as a child, I would tell anyone who’d listen about the lady in my nightmares. But recurring dreams aren’t all that uncommon, especially in children, and everyone, including me, just brushed it off. The dreams stopped around the time I outgrew barbies and whimsy and I although I did recall them from time to time, I have never put any thought into them until today.Today, I saw her.She came to my fucking work. Smiling that all too familiar, unmistakable grin.And now, as I lay in my bed alone with my new kitten, I can hear tapping on my window. I am awake. I am not dreaming. And I am hiding the way I used to do when I was seven. I can't breathe, I can't cry and I don't know what to do. I swear I'm not insane. What the fuck is happening to me.
@PensivePost #story by pinklunch
This happened today. I am vibrating. I have either come entirely undone, or something very fucked up is actually happening to me. I can’t tell anyone I know. They wouldn’t believe me and they would bring me to a hospital. Maybe that’s what I really need. But I know I’m not delusional. Everything I thought I knew about reality is in the blender right now. I don’t know how else to put it. I think I am losing my mind.When I was a little girl, I had this recurring nightmare. And even though it’s been twenty years since I last experienced these nightmares, I can still recall them so well, so vividly, better than any other childhood memory.In my dreams, I always awoke in the dead of night with every light in the house turned on. I would wander out of my room, confused, looking for my mom and dad. They were never there. The whole, fully lit house would be empty, even my dog was gone, and I would start panicking. After checking the house I’d go back to my room, terrified, and I’d cover myself up in my blankets and hide. That’s when I’d hear the clicking on my bedroom window. It was her nails. I’d peek out from under the sheets and I’d see her face there, next to her impossibly long fingers, tapping at the corner of my window. I have shivers typing this.I can picture her face as easily as I can picture my own mother’s. She was kind of pretty. Black hair, button nose, but her smile. Her wide mouth just smiled wildly at me and she wouldn’t look away. Her deranged eyes locked into mine and I’d find that I couldn’t look away either. I was drawn to her. Despite my fear, I would slowly approach my window as if I were being pulled. And every time, just as I were about to open my window to let her in, I would wake up.I hadn’t thought of these dreams in years. At the time, as a child, I would tell anyone who’d listen about the lady in my nightmares. But recurring dreams aren’t all that uncommon, especially in children, and everyone, including me, just brushed it off. The dreams stopped around the time I outgrew barbies and whimsy and I although I did recall them from time to time, I have never put any thought into them until today.Today, I saw her.She came to my fucking work. Smiling that all too familiar, unmistakable grin.And now, as I lay in my bed alone with my new kitten, I can hear tapping on my window. I am awake. I am not dreaming. And I am hiding the way I used to do when I was seven. I can't breathe, I can't cry and I don't know what to do. I swear I'm not insane. What the fuck is happening to me.
@PensivePost #story by pinklunch
"Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired." Jules Renard
@PensivePost #quote
@PensivePost #quote
“The greatest crimes in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by the people following the rules” - Banksy
@PensivePost #quote
@PensivePost #quote
“If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results.” -Jack Dixon
@PensivePost #quote
@PensivePost #quote
"How frail the human heart must be... A mirrored pool of thoughts..." ~ Sylvia Plath
@PensivePost #quote
@PensivePost #quote
MY UNREQUITED LOVE
Her mother died in a car accident when she was 5 years old. Her favourite color is turquoise blue, like her eyes. She’s a fan of indie songs. She stuns anyone with her wavy auburn hair matched with her dazzling poise. She adores rainy days. She is bubbly and energetic, with an exquisite smile. She is beautiful. So beautiful.She is the whole essence of the universe-the physical embodiment of heaven. And I love her, I do. I cannot explain the feeling I get whenever she walks into the room, immediately lighting it up with her presence. I can sense her grace from a hundred miles away.And although I know I’ll always love her from afar, I can’t help but sometimes think that I have a chance with her. I mean, why not? I am the one who’s always there for her, the one she confides her secrets in and the one she clings to in times of terrible pain. I thought that somehow, someday she would learn to fall in love with me too.But all of my hope disappeared, when she introduced me to her boyfriend, Axel. That jerk. He’ll never be good enough for her. The moment I met him, I already hated him so much. Imagine the pain in my eyes when she looked so happy with him, letting him tuck her hair behind her precious ear, letting him kiss her alluring lips furiously and probably even letting him touch her in places. It makes me sick to even think about it.It hurts every time I see them together because I know that I should be the one with her, not him. I should be the one to love her. I should be the one to kiss her,to hold her and to touch her.But maybe she was really never meant for me. She’ll always love another, never seeing me as a possibility. Her heart wasn’t destined to be mine. Maybe the only thing I can do is to remain in pure agony whenever she calls me her “father”. I’ll always be just, “her father”.I can fix that.She’s starting to wake up now; I see her eyes slowly opening- they never fail to make my heart flutter. I check her binds, making sure the ropes are extra tight but comfortable enough for her. I don’t want to hurt my baby’s wrists yet at the same time I cannot afford to make mistakes.“D-daddy?” she stammers as she looks at me confusedly. I understand, this must be a lot for her to take in, with me in front of her, and her boyfriend’s mangled and limp body hanging from the ceiling behind me.She screams as she views his torn face, discovering to see that his gouged out eyes would not have the chance to look at hers anymore and his lips sewn shut, for no other man can kiss my daughter’s delectable lips. Only me.I smiled. “It’s okay sweetie, I love you so much.”
@PensivePost #story by poeticpsychopath
Her mother died in a car accident when she was 5 years old. Her favourite color is turquoise blue, like her eyes. She’s a fan of indie songs. She stuns anyone with her wavy auburn hair matched with her dazzling poise. She adores rainy days. She is bubbly and energetic, with an exquisite smile. She is beautiful. So beautiful.She is the whole essence of the universe-the physical embodiment of heaven. And I love her, I do. I cannot explain the feeling I get whenever she walks into the room, immediately lighting it up with her presence. I can sense her grace from a hundred miles away.And although I know I’ll always love her from afar, I can’t help but sometimes think that I have a chance with her. I mean, why not? I am the one who’s always there for her, the one she confides her secrets in and the one she clings to in times of terrible pain. I thought that somehow, someday she would learn to fall in love with me too.But all of my hope disappeared, when she introduced me to her boyfriend, Axel. That jerk. He’ll never be good enough for her. The moment I met him, I already hated him so much. Imagine the pain in my eyes when she looked so happy with him, letting him tuck her hair behind her precious ear, letting him kiss her alluring lips furiously and probably even letting him touch her in places. It makes me sick to even think about it.It hurts every time I see them together because I know that I should be the one with her, not him. I should be the one to love her. I should be the one to kiss her,to hold her and to touch her.But maybe she was really never meant for me. She’ll always love another, never seeing me as a possibility. Her heart wasn’t destined to be mine. Maybe the only thing I can do is to remain in pure agony whenever she calls me her “father”. I’ll always be just, “her father”.I can fix that.She’s starting to wake up now; I see her eyes slowly opening- they never fail to make my heart flutter. I check her binds, making sure the ropes are extra tight but comfortable enough for her. I don’t want to hurt my baby’s wrists yet at the same time I cannot afford to make mistakes.“D-daddy?” she stammers as she looks at me confusedly. I understand, this must be a lot for her to take in, with me in front of her, and her boyfriend’s mangled and limp body hanging from the ceiling behind me.She screams as she views his torn face, discovering to see that his gouged out eyes would not have the chance to look at hers anymore and his lips sewn shut, for no other man can kiss my daughter’s delectable lips. Only me.I smiled. “It’s okay sweetie, I love you so much.”
@PensivePost #story by poeticpsychopath
The patter of raindrops
A soft tapping on the window woke me up. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness as I remembered where I was. I was at home in my new apartment sleeping. At least I had been sleeping.I turned to the window, the sight still unfamiliar. The curtain was partially open, letting in a slither of moonlight. Large raindrops were hitting the glass. Pat, pat, pat.It was just the rain. The sound of the rain on the roof was one of my favourite sounds. Being on the second floor of a six story building I could no longer hear it on the roof but the window had the same effect nevertheless. I closed my eyes and let it help me drift back to sleep.My eyes shot open again. I closed the curtain before I went to bed, of this I was absolutely certain. I couldn’t sleep if the curtains were open, it made me anxious. My nightly ritual began with brushing my teeth, getting dressed for bed, closing the curtain and settling in with a book to read before finally turning in for the night.Yet the curtain was open.I moved into this apartment only three weeks ago. As a struggling writer with barely enough funds to feed myself and my cat my friends helped with all the heavy lifting upstairs. The neighbours were occasionally loud and obnoxious, I could hear the finer details of the couple upstairs arguing on a daily basis and the loud music of those living below me often distracted from my writing, but you get what you pay for.Not sure I paid for curtain ghosts.Lightning flashed followed shortly by thunder. I startled and pulled the blanket up closer. Where the hell was Daisy? Damn cat was never around when I needed her.I took a drink from the glass sitting on my bedside table and tried to close my eyes again.Tap tap.I clenched my eyes tighter. It was just rain.Tap tap tap.I opened my eyes. It was too dark to see anything, just rain sliding down the glass.Tap tap.Boom.I scrambled out of bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud as my feet tangled in the blankets. I crawled forward on my hands and knees and locked the bathroom door behind me.Eyes. The lightning revealed eyes looking in through my window. I didn’t know who’s or what’s but there were eyes and they were looking in my window.Tap tap.That wasn’t rain.My heart was racing. I waited, listening with my heart beating in my chest for what felt like an eternity.Silence, and the pattering of rain drops on the glass.No. Not just the rain.There it was again.Tap tap.Screech.I don’t know how long I sat there listening to the sounds but at some point exhaustion took over and I fell asleep leaning against the bathroom door.The next morning I found my window covered in hundreds of tiny scratches. The key was still sitting in the lock. I live on the second floor, I never seriously thought I would need to keep the windows locked. For once I was glad I was so pedantic about the little things.However the fact remained… who, or what, was looking in my second story bedroom window?
@PensivePost #story by TaraDevlin
A soft tapping on the window woke me up. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness as I remembered where I was. I was at home in my new apartment sleeping. At least I had been sleeping.I turned to the window, the sight still unfamiliar. The curtain was partially open, letting in a slither of moonlight. Large raindrops were hitting the glass. Pat, pat, pat.It was just the rain. The sound of the rain on the roof was one of my favourite sounds. Being on the second floor of a six story building I could no longer hear it on the roof but the window had the same effect nevertheless. I closed my eyes and let it help me drift back to sleep.My eyes shot open again. I closed the curtain before I went to bed, of this I was absolutely certain. I couldn’t sleep if the curtains were open, it made me anxious. My nightly ritual began with brushing my teeth, getting dressed for bed, closing the curtain and settling in with a book to read before finally turning in for the night.Yet the curtain was open.I moved into this apartment only three weeks ago. As a struggling writer with barely enough funds to feed myself and my cat my friends helped with all the heavy lifting upstairs. The neighbours were occasionally loud and obnoxious, I could hear the finer details of the couple upstairs arguing on a daily basis and the loud music of those living below me often distracted from my writing, but you get what you pay for.Not sure I paid for curtain ghosts.Lightning flashed followed shortly by thunder. I startled and pulled the blanket up closer. Where the hell was Daisy? Damn cat was never around when I needed her.I took a drink from the glass sitting on my bedside table and tried to close my eyes again.Tap tap.I clenched my eyes tighter. It was just rain.Tap tap tap.I opened my eyes. It was too dark to see anything, just rain sliding down the glass.Tap tap.Boom.I scrambled out of bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud as my feet tangled in the blankets. I crawled forward on my hands and knees and locked the bathroom door behind me.Eyes. The lightning revealed eyes looking in through my window. I didn’t know who’s or what’s but there were eyes and they were looking in my window.Tap tap.That wasn’t rain.My heart was racing. I waited, listening with my heart beating in my chest for what felt like an eternity.Silence, and the pattering of rain drops on the glass.No. Not just the rain.There it was again.Tap tap.Screech.I don’t know how long I sat there listening to the sounds but at some point exhaustion took over and I fell asleep leaning against the bathroom door.The next morning I found my window covered in hundreds of tiny scratches. The key was still sitting in the lock. I live on the second floor, I never seriously thought I would need to keep the windows locked. For once I was glad I was so pedantic about the little things.However the fact remained… who, or what, was looking in my second story bedroom window?
@PensivePost #story by TaraDevlin