a trick of thought

lovely things that give pause and joy without being desperately cliche or pretentious.
mostly successful. see e. browning sonnet xiv.
~ Saturday, April 14 ~
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jaymug:

How to be a successful creative.

jaymug:

How to be a successful creative.


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~ Thursday, April 5 ~
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This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Ditto:

Gary Provost (via qmsd)  This might be my favourite quote on writing ever.  (via bdoing)


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~ Thursday, March 1 ~
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~ Tuesday, February 28 ~
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~ Sunday, February 26 ~
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Tian from Pinwheel Pictures, Inc. on Vimeo.

love this kid. love his fam.  : ) 

blinksnap:

Amazing production by Pinwheel Pictures of our usually crazy, sometimes risky, 2 time cancer survivor, always fun son.


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~ Thursday, February 23 ~
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~ Wednesday, February 22 ~
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You will have perceived by now that I was not one to profit by the experience of others, that it was a very long time indeed before I stopped believing in new faces and began to understand the lesson in that story, which was that it is distinctly possible to stay too long at the Fair.
— from Joan Didion’s Goodbye to All That

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~ Wednesday, February 15 ~
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Only much later would I begin to know how war steals some things from people, and gives them other things instead. And now I might say that my father’s scrutinizing of maps, his touching them, folding them up and tucking them in the sun visor, his getting them down and looking at them again was less a way to gauge a route, a route that he knew by heart, than it was a way to review the mystery of survival, to touch its creases as though touching an amulet.
from Emily Hiestand’s “Maps”

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~ Monday, February 13 ~
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