I feel like after you reach a certain age, that friend, that partner in crime eventually moves on to become someone’s significant other, as perhaps do you.
There is something so admirable about the way we used to stick by one another in our youth. Rock stars in our own right, passionately looking for adventure and riding that wave with the truest of hearts. I miss that kind of reckless devotion, that spirit and reverence of youth. -tM
I don’t know what I would do without music, or what quality of life I would have for that matter if the world fell silent.
It is so intrinsically part of my physical make-up, my genetic code; it moves me through my day and continues to carry me through life. It is my belief that is is the highest form of intangible art, building bridges where none existed, moving the masses toward unity, even if temporary. It is a revolutionary force; music can change the world, because it can change people.
Today I thought about what music means to me: and the only thing that I could come up with was that it is part of my life’s sustenance, connecting us all and reminding us of our belonging even in our loneliness. -tM
“I can chase you, and I can catch you, but there is nothing I can do to make you mine. “ - Morrissey (on music)
3 D textured Wallpaper. The more you look, the deeper you go.-tM
I am unable to read the script, which in this case I think is a good thing because it peaks my curiousity. Optometrist? Herbalist for sight? Aesthetician? A home of a superstitious person who is trying their best to ward off the evil eye? These are all valid possibilities in my mind.
There are even many evil eyes positioned behind the tea kettle. I feel like the tea kettle could be a clue, and it looks like there are cups sitting on the ledge of the other open window. I can’t “see” any further then this without the knowledge of the script.
I give up, pizza parlour? What do you surmise? -tM
I have lived alone, I have shared my space with a partner, and I have to admit that nothing feels (for me) as good as having a space of my own. The peace and freedom that come a long with this luxury are priceless. I thrive creatively, spiritually, and mindfully. I am a better person when enjoying the solitude of my space.
Perhaps some people aren’t meant to share spaces. Perhaps relationships would last longer, even marriages, if we kept separate quarters? Living with someone is tough, at least for me it has always been that way. I think the “problem” is that I enjoy my own company way to much. -tM
I like to view life through a romantic lens; far from the Victorian notions of romance, no grand gestures to be noted or declared here, just through the softness of its curves and the mystery with which it moves. -tM
A smell, a touch, thoughts, moments, feelings, movements, words said, words barely spoken, they all have a distinct taste or fragrance. When we sit at a table, there is more going on then than just simply satisfying hunger. Permit yourself to linger, as there are many spells to be offered by a good meal, the heart, mind, and spirit rarely leave unsatisfied. -tM
This made me laugh. Perhaps it shouldn’t, but it did. I know one could go into a deep analysis of this painting given the title of the series, however, this stands as an obvious reminder to me of all the people I have encountered along the way, who, “underneath” it all have been everything but beautiful.
Inside turned out. This is quite a catastrophe of a piece, and of course I mean that in the best way possible. -tM
p.s. I am still laughing
“Beauty is the mystery of life, we don’t know what is beautiful or not, everyone finds beauty at their own level.” -Pierre Yovanovitch
The style codes woven into American Gigolo’s aesthetics are as timeless as they are androgynous, allowing both women and men to tap into this effortless form of sensuality.
I am newly inspired not only by the style of clothing (the suits are all designed by Armani, as it is also a well known fact this this film launched his career. Impressed with Gere’s representation of the Armani man, it is said that he never needed to pay for a suit again) but also by the interior design; relaxed, elegant, and refined. It is poetry in motion. I couldn’t have asked for a way to spend a Saturday Night. -tM
We all know someone or have known someone who hears and see’s everything, who either “claim” to have overheard the juicy details or were privy to being at the right place at the right time. This is otherwise known as the snoop or the town gossip; big ears, and even bigger mouth.
If they talk about someone else, they will most definitely talk about you. So I stay clear. I don’t want to know peoples dirty laundry, I do not want to participate in bringing someone down, in helping spread word about a situation or current life struggle. And as of lately if and when I begin to judge someone on their behaviour, dress, or otherwise, I stop myself, and that little voice in my head tells me to shut the f*&$ up, because in reality, I need to divert that energy toward me, toward bettering myself, fixing what I believe needs fixing.
I understand the human draw toward these types of headlines, what else was there to do when people didn’t have t.v., lived in a town of a few hundred, and needed some form of entertainment. People are people, and although still entertaining, gossip can also be incredibly damaging.
There has got to be another way for all of us to feel accepted by others without the spread of such tales.
So the moral of this story friends is: steer clear of those with a big mouth and big ears, for like the wolf in “The Little Red Riding Hood” they may be charming but they too will eventually come for you. Trust your instincts and keep moving on. -tM
I like when confronted with the unexpected in design and in people.
It’s in those moments that I am reminded of the creative forces in life, of making a space your own, not what the latest Pottery Barn suggests you do. And in person, I appreciate the courage of those who choose not to conform to anyone else’s standards but their own. It's translates into a beautiful self-assurance, a confidence so engagingly unconventional, that in my opinion lights up the world.
But then again, I have always been drawn to the unconventional, in people and in place, it’s just who I am. -tM
I used to watch my mom sit and talk sometimes for hours late in the evening at her telephone seat with coffee in hand, and an occasional cigarette. Our telephone seat was nestled in a corner of our long hallway, situated close to the piano. The piano was an upright, allowing for some privacy if necessary.
I have always liked the idea of a place solely made for talking, a place that became an island of alone time. Once that receiver was in hand, the world would fall away, or at least that was what I felt I bore witness too, as we were not to disturb my mother when on call, for all intensive purposes my sister and I ceased to exist in those moments.
There was something so organic about the connections made over those wires, it was the next best thing to seeing her friends in person. It was a moment that didn’t require multi tasking (walking with your cell, or folding laundry with your cordless) the telephone seat and landline rotary phone plugged into the wall made certain of that. They were simpler times made more beautiful by the furniture designed for its utilitarian purpose.
I don’t recall the actual year or day that my parents got rid of the telephone seat (it was taking up too much space) and replaced it with just a telephone table whose perimeter would eventually come to be known as our shoe dispensary, but I remember that soon after that, our telephone cords were extended, doors were closed for privacy, and conversations no longer came with coffee, or cigarette rituals.
Change is inevitable, and design is consistently reinventing itself, but with every technological advance comes a loss of a simpler time.
I still have that rotary phone, sitting in my closet. I keep it as a memento of what once was and no longer is.
Ah, nostalgia, it can be so bittersweet. -tM
It’s back, and has been for a year or so, the oversized details of art, fashion, and design. They are inseparable. One rides on the coat tails of the other. Back to the 80’s with a twist of course. -tM
Photography & Deisgn: Unknown
“Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration's shove or society's kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It's all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.”
― Susan Sontag
I know many women who want to wear this “crown,” that refuse to be treated any less then the “Queen” they are in life and in relationships.
I will personally never understand this attitude of better than, of needing to be put up on a pedestal. In life I would hate the attention, not to mention that I really believe that as human beings no one is above or beneath anyone, no matter their position in life. Also, putting one on a pedestal can be a very dangerous thing, as even the slightest resemblance to being human with faults, may cause you to fall from grace and result in the dissolve and unravelling of that said relationship. I feel that in relationships NO ONE should be put on a pedestal, or given a title.
I am not adverse to some special treatment and I believe in giving the same in return, as this is your person, however, the idea of being put on a pedestal, met with certain expectations is an invitation for disaster, not to mention the pressure that comes along with fitting into that predetermined role.
Perhaps I am wrong, but being someone’s “King” of “Queen” doesn’t leave much room for personal growth or mistakes in my opinion. However, maybe I am reading too much into the actual title. And maybe it’s just the title that people crave, the feeling of being treated extra special, like a royal without any expectations to follow suit.
I could go on analyzing this need but I will stop here. Just some Saturday morning musings to get the blood flowing while the coffee is brewing. -tM