Jessica, by Marco.
Every work of art is one half of a secret handshake, a challenge that seeks a password, a heliograph flashed from a tower window, an act of hopeless optimism in the service of bottomless longing. Every great record or novel or comic book convenes the first meeting of a fan club whose membership stands forever at one but maintains chapters in every city—in every cranium—in the world.
Idea for a blog, Pts. 2 & 3
Wikipedia entries that are way too long in proportion to subject’s relevance. Idea for title: Get a Life, Superfans
The Magnetic Fields last night at the Wilbur Theatre.
Archbuilders describe English as a language of enchanting limitations. The English vocabulary is tens of thousands of words smaller than any language native to their planet. English words seem, to an Archbuilder, garishly overloaded with meaning. One Archbuilder described speaking English as ‘stringing poems into sentences,’ another compares it to ‘speaking hieroglyphs.’
The New Yorker’s 85th anniversary issue featuring four different covers by Chris Ware, Adrian Tomine, Daniel Clowes, and Ivan Brunetti.
inkiworld asked: Hey Justin!!
I love your polaroids! :)
It seems your scans have a lot of texture of the polaroid it self. If I scan mine, the texture of the white border (witch I love) seems to fade away.. Do you edit them in photoshop? or is it just my scanner? :) Hope you can help! Thanks!
Greetings, Alissa
Hi Alissa,
It’s probably your scanner. I auto level using Photoshop but that doesn’t really do anything to the border. You could try and play with your resolution (I scan at 300dpi) and that may solve your problem. My scanner’s not the best in the world (a Canon MP480) but it gets the job done. So it may just be your settings. Good luck!
Justin
My story of a story of a run in with J.D. Salinger
I’d meant to post this last week after his passing but I kept procrastinating until it was out of the news cycle and virtually off topic again. Anyway. When I was in college I briefly dated a girl whose mom met J.D. Salinger. Being a newly-minted English major, this excited me to no end. (At the time, I felt like I had practically met him myself.) She told me that when she was eighteen she worked at a summer camp near Cornish and one day her and some of her female coworkers decided to play old Jerry a visit. Being a group of eighteen year old girls, he let them in, hanging out on the porch, giving them beers and regaling them with the story of a recent interloper who showed up at his door, claiming he was Holden Caulfield. Salinger apparently answered, “Like hell you are!” and drove him to the nearest airport in a fit of anger.
What I always inevitably think about when remembering this story is: those few tales of random people speaking to him at the post office or in town about all the novels he’d written since “Hapworth” may be truer than we think. And that somewhere, there’s another person writing a blog entry about how the father of someone they dated in college crashed Salinger’s house claiming to be Holden Caulfield.
Today my grandmother took me back into school since I no longer have my car on campus. On the way there we discussed my hobby of crocheting and how her mother, my great-grandmother, was the one who started the passed down craft in the family. I never knew too much about my great-grandmother since she died fairly young, but I came to find out today that she was a seamstress in Boston and actually constructed part of Grace Kelly’s wedding dress in 1956. She also worked from home making garments when not in Boston.
It’s nice to hear about my family, and that maybe I am more similar to them than I thought. How come I was never taught to sew!? I wish I could apply both merchandising and design into my major.
How was I unaware of our family’s footnote in fame?
