You know how when something hurts deeply, something you didn’t expect to hurt, your first instinct is to say fuck it, i will harden myself, in future this will not hurt me. But then there’s that small voice that wonders if being hurt is a sign of a decent human being, and if hardening yourself will just mean you’re giving up. And there’s no resolution. 

“Do guns cause violence? Of course not, people use guns to cause violence. However, the easy availability of guns makes it possible for anyone to use them without much thought. In an age where we oscillate between seeking excuses for violence and bloodthirsty outrage, the commercial availability of another small weapon cannot be good news for anyone – even if it comes packaged in an attractive velvet-lined box.”

Antifragile Black Swans

Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s books are a torture to read not because they aren’t good in ideas, but because he cant state anything without stating that hes going to state it at least half a dozen times. Or without writing a dozen complex definitions of something before making a simple definition. 

Not to forget the appropriation of commonly used words and ascribing have esoteric sounding meanings to them that are actually no different than the real meaning.  

Ugh

“Someday we’ll figure out what actually causes mental illnesses and we’ll look back at psychiatrists of today and call them out as blood-letters and enemaphiles. Till then this blood letting will continue.”

I hope you are paying attention to what Freddie is singing

plicklyplickly:

We’re listening to ‘This could be heaven’ by Queen. Midway through the song she pipes up,
"I hope you’re paying attention to what Freddie is singing."
"What do you want me to pay attention to?"
"He just said that you should bring fun to your daughters and sons. He’s singing to you."
"But he’s singing, you should bring love."
"Yeah, that too."

How I have been

Some brilliant fails

Some stupid ones

Some brilliance

Some blunder

Some great days with clear skies

Some terrible days and dark clouds

Some realizations

Some ignorance by choice

It’s the same as ever, really.

I know what you’re asking, though

I know you wish for me more clear skies and brilliant fails than dark clouds and stupid fails. 

Thank you. 


Pages from Scarlet, written by Brian Michael Bendis, art by Alex Maleev.
It’s a truly stand-out comic that can turn something as basic as introducing a character’s back story, into a visually memorable sequence.  
At first glace, it just looks like fifteen panels in standard layout. But it’s really fifteen snapshots of the defining moments and characteristics in Scarlet’s life to date. Note that the last panel of a Portland landmark, which breaks the rhythm established so far, is enlarged to emphasize the most telling quality about her.
It’s exposition done as only a comic can do.

Pages from Scarlet, written by Brian Michael Bendis, art by Alex Maleev.
It’s a truly stand-out comic that can turn something as basic as introducing a character’s back story, into a visually memorable sequence.  
At first glace, it just looks like fifteen panels in standard layout. But it’s really fifteen snapshots of the defining moments and characteristics in Scarlet’s life to date. Note that the last panel of a Portland landmark, which breaks the rhythm established so far, is enlarged to emphasize the most telling quality about her.
It’s exposition done as only a comic can do.

Pages from Scarlet, written by Brian Michael Bendis, art by Alex Maleev.
It’s a truly stand-out comic that can turn something as basic as introducing a character’s back story, into a visually memorable sequence.  
At first glace, it just looks like fifteen panels in standard layout. But it’s really fifteen snapshots of the defining moments and characteristics in Scarlet’s life to date. Note that the last panel of a Portland landmark, which breaks the rhythm established so far, is enlarged to emphasize the most telling quality about her.
It’s exposition done as only a comic can do.

Pages from Scarlet, written by Brian Michael Bendis, art by Alex Maleev.


It’s a truly stand-out comic that can turn something as basic as introducing a character’s back story, into a visually memorable sequence.  

At first glace, it just looks like fifteen panels in standard layout. But it’s really fifteen snapshots of the defining moments and characteristics in Scarlet’s life to date. Note that the last panel of a Portland landmark, which breaks the rhythm established so far, is enlarged to emphasize the most telling quality about her.

It’s exposition done as only a comic can do.

(via indianroadromeo)

Difference between Stoicism, Christianity and Zen.

Stoics: Whatever has happened to you has been always waiting to happen.

Christians: Whatever has happened to you happened for a reason.

Zen: Whatever has happened to you has.

indianroadromeo:

My innocence ended the day she was killed. We were the little children being herded out of school ahead of time but we heard what the teachers were saying about Indira Gandhi being shot. Indira who belonged to a joke kids told called what is the full form of INDIA? Indira’s nude dance in Africa. On the bus innocent kids with their age in single digits talked about squashing the tomato on a sardarji’s head while the only Sikh child was sitting next to the conductor and we are in far away Bangalore away from the banyan tree that Rajiv Gandhi claimed to fall. End of the innocence happened in the television over the next few days when we heard new slogans and new words. Discovered how to read drawing as we traced the flow events that led to her death. We heard stories of a sardarji being stopped on tumkur road and having his hair cut. Once we reached home we discovered that the real news is on BBC on shortwave where Indira Gandhi is said to have been killed and not on all India radio where she is still alive fighting for her life. I never trusted an Indian news report since then. And that was the time when we discovered the power of television, even more than the Asiad of 82 at least in Bangalore where year television came in 1980 with feeds from Bombay with news Marathi news and later the feeds from madras with program’s with funny names like oliyum oliyum and the long antennas that caught the signal of Rupavahini that still had a big tower in Jaffna. On the day she died was an eerie silence me and my neighbour Anand played cricket on the empty road opposite our house and the sound of the rubber ball hitting the bat his grandfather carved from a piece of wood from their village in Kolar still rings louder than the chant of the jab tak suraj chand Rahega that people snaking through the streets of Delhi were chanting on the day of get funeral. #vscocam

“He’s an orchestrator of experience, not a creator of cheap effects. And every artist knows how cheap an effect is, and how revolutionary an experience.”