Bone House

First off, this blog is supposed to be just an archive of arranged images that I feel
are interesting both alone and together. As a kind of storage area for inspiration and ideas.
That being said, I wasn't planning on writing very much.
(especially about tampons and human bones)

The past two weeks I've learned a lot about the purchasing of human bone and tissue.
In New York, according to Evolution you must prove medical affiliation to buy human remains

According to another, smaller, source and store, it's fine to buy dry human remains like bones but illegal to buy any preserved soft tissue.

Don't be afraid of me. I'm not up for having anyone's fleshy parts in my living room. But honestly, a human rib bone placed inconspicuously on a shelf is something really really cool in my opinion.

and they're only $19.

Women's Hygiene: Aisle Five

Honestly I really like my new neighborhood.
I do.

I'm a creature of habit and expected this transition to be a slow and painful one but surprisingly enough, that hasn't been so.
My friends have all basically been living/moved here.
My apartment is beautiful.
And up until now anything I've needed or wanted has been at most, a five minute's walk away.
Till just now.

When I walked in my pajamas, with no makeup, in broken flip flops, in the rain, to the grocery store to buy:
tampons.

One grocery store
Three dollar stores
and probably over six bodegas later
apparently no one in the whole of Bushwick has ever heard of these.
Fuck.

My Future Husband

(Yeah, I realize I'm writing this on a blog which contradicts everything I say below but I wrote it quickly without editing if that's any consolation)

I like this book. I'm aware that my opinion is hardly an expert one, but this book solidifies what I talk about constantly and it's comforting to not feel so alone in my opinions on how technology is handicapping us as a society.

More and more I've been thinking of 1984 and Newspeak

Okay, I get it. A text message is easier then a phone call. The sting of rejection is greatly lessened by an unreturned e-mail than an awkward face to face meeting and I'll be the first to admit that I'm guilty of this. But in the end aren't we the ones losing out? Things that come out of my mouth are usually too blunt and most often embarrassing but the fact that I can't take ample time to manicure my thoughts and feelings to make myself seem smarter/funnier/sexier makes them more real, right?

I think John Freeman agrees. Which is why I'm going to carve an eloquent letter onto a big clay tablet asking him to have coffee with me.