ultroid2068

[ultroid2068]

I've been applying since winter & now I'm applying to jobs that start in November.

After years of being crushed by workload, I suddenly have no job prospects, no school, nothing at all to do. It's a strange feeling.

I graduated and I have a degree in nursing now.

It's also the worst job market for nurses (and especially new grads) since Covid hit, so after I take the licensing test at the end of the month, I won't find a nursing job for months.

[ultroid2068]

I graduated and I have a degree in nursing now.

It's also the worst job market for nurses (and especially new grads) since Covid hit, so after I take the licensing test at the end of the month, I won't find a nursing job for months.

[ultroid2068]

Art Deco statue of the goddess, Ceres, atop the Chicago Board of Trade Building, Chicago, Illinois.

Architect, Holabird & Root. 1929.

[ultroid2068]

Tomasz Wawryczuk (*1966)

[ultroid2068]

Dante and Virgil in the Ninth Circle of Hell, 1861

Gustave Doré

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Royal Doulton, Tango Pattern Art Deco Trio Tea Set - 1930s

[ultroid2068]

"In the ‘60s one either believed that America was being greened or that America was being morally defoliated. You either believed that this was the dawning of the age of Aquarius or you believed that we were on the eve of destruction. I sometimes think that the most malignant aspect of the period was the extent to which everyone dealt exclusively in symbols. Certain artifacts were understood to denote something other than themselves, something supposedly abstract; some positive or negative moral value. And whether the artifact was positively or negatively charged depended not on any objective reality at all but on where you stood, where the polarization had thrown you. Marijuana was a symbol. Long hair was of course a symbol, and so was short hair. Natural foods were a symbol – rice, seaweed, raw milk, the whole litany. I found myself in situations during the late ‘60s where my refusal to give my baby unpasteurized milk was construed as evidence that I must be “on the other side.” Probably an undercover. In fact, it meant nothing except that I had grown up around farms and I had known children who got tuberculosis and brucellosis from drinking raw milk. But this was a period in which everything was understood to have some moral freight, some meaning beyond itself. And in fact, nothing did; that was the peculiarity of the decade. In a way it was very touching, this whole society so starved for meaning that it made totems out of meaningless artifacts. The whole country was like a cargo cult. But it was also very destructive. Because nothing meant what it was supposed to mean."

Joan Didion's 1975 Commencement Address at UC Riverside

[ultroid2068]

Lowkey we should create a giant manmade blood device to attract ticks away from humans and its a giant blood container that pumps like a heart and emits phermones that attract ticks and mosquitos and we should call it Mother

[ultroid2068]

Martin Munkácsi. Fritz Lang makes himself a drink at the bar of his flat in Berlin, 1932.

[ultroid2068]

Hannah Höch (1889-1978)—Self Portrait with Cat Ninn [oil on canvas, 1928]

[ultroid2068]

By Pedro Almodóvar

presented without comment

[ultroid2068]

LOST HIGHWAY (1997) directed by David Lynch

[ultroid2068]

[ultroid2068]

The Pitt's writing is so funny. Like perfection in including accurate medical detail. But then every character is always having to say a line that demonstrates their one singular personality trait. The outgoing, teasing character initiates a conversation to say something to mock the awkward character. The awkward character responds awkwardly. Repeat 200 times.

It's as if the show was written by a textbook author.

And then there was that whole episode that was just an excuse to do rare things the writer had heard of that sounded cool, about half of which involved the IO drill.

And yet I've watched all of it. And Lenjamin from Caleb Gallo is on it

[ultroid2068]

A prison themed playground at the National Prison Museum, Veenhuizen

[ultroid2068]

I don't think you can maintain a militarist culture that vaunts bombing poor foreigners as the height of civic valour and strength and then be surprised that your adolescents find meaning in gym-addled misogynists and their hellish visions of domination and aggression. The dreams of Liberalism spawn monsters.

[ultroid2068]

Perhaps something broke a long time ago and after that everything just kept breaking. Whatever the reason, the spirit can no longer live in a person. It is instead expressed in the alien immensity of commodities: oil burned to warm the world like a lantern smoldering overbright in the darkness of the swamp, the million machines seething in the bellies of the factories that garrote the city, the myriad objects cast across the surface of the Earth in arcs patterned on the falling stars. These are not living things, but they are nonetheless animate. So maybe we can say the world-soul requires a new flesh for its habitation. Something that, like it, lies beyond life and death. Not an emperor concentrating the collective will but an industrial abomination—a monstrous nexus of petroleum, grain, and thrashing metals—into which the toil of the species has been sluiced like offal into the waste lagoon. It must be some image bearing an uncanny intimacy. An object wrought of other flesh that becomes our flesh but is something also beyond the flesh. In other words, a hamburger: the world spirit glimpsed in glistening meat.

Phil Neel, Quarter-Pounds of Flesh