I know I don’t really NEED yet another blank book. (I have, um, some. Yes. Let’s call it “some” and leave it at that.) But oh! How I covet this one. I don’t need to explain why, do I? I didn’t think so.
Dead Leader of the Day: Snow fell on Pyongyang as the funeral procession of North Korea’s “Dear Leader” Kim Jong-il snaked its way from the Kumsusan Memorial Palace to Kim Il Sung Square and back again during today’s three-hour-long official state ceremony.
Leading the cortege was Kim’s “great successor,” his son Kim Jong Un, who was accompanied by senior officials.
More notable, however, were the vehicles by their side: The three jet-black, American-made, Lincoln Continental limos carrying Kim’s body, his official portrait, and an elaborate funeral wreath.
The mid-70’s models apparently belonged to Kim’s father, North Korea’s founder Kim Il-sung. According to experts, one of them may be the very same vehicle used to transport the elder Kim’s corpse after his passing in 1994.
North Koreans gathered around Kim Jong-il’s hearse and wailed as loud as they could as the procession passed by.
“All streets in Pyongyang and all towns and villages throughout the country are now inundated with people sweeping away snow before bidding their last farewell to the leader,” reported North Korea’s news agency, KCNA. “They, who spent a sleepless night, missing him, have turned out in all roads covered by him in his lifetime.”
Watch the mourners express their ostensible grief below:
I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time. Banksy (via saddest-summer)
My first attempt at turning a book into an art piece, to show it has not been used or read for a while. For this book I brushed the pages with buttermilk, and then spread over a ground up mixture of moss and buttermilk, and placed it outside. The moss began to grow on the pages, and the pages began to change and decay. (The pic is taken after 4 days, after several weeks the moss died when a storm battered the book! the book is still outside and changing and decaying with things growing around and over it)
When you’re dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody. J.D. Salinger (via venebelle)