Welcome to the new Toybox (now free from the constraints of Tuesday). I’m playing around with posting days/methods, so bear with me. Here are some awesome things I’m loving this week.
Luxirare’s last post on an MJ-inspired outfit was jaw-dropping–now check out these homemade potato chips, and tell me she’s not an artist. I love this blog!
Check out this aerial New York alphabet created by British researcher Rachel Young with Google Maps. (Thanks Nubby!)
How great is this fantastically colorful vintage Moschino “Union” jacket at Nasty Gal? I’m green-eyed at whoever buys and pulls that off–j’adore.
Ten things we don’t understand about humans (thanks, Nubby, again). Fascinating!
Uncomfortable Plot Summaries at Postmodern Barney (thanks, Gala). Wow.
Remember the Yellow Bird Project? In addition to their awesome indie rock charity t-shirts, they’ve just released an Indie Rock Coloring Book, “with over 25 hand-illustrated designs dedicated to indie and YBP musicians.” It can be yours for $10, and the proceeds go to YBP and supported charities. Not to mention they’re having an indie rock tour to kick it all off. Definitely check it out!
Stuff White People Like is hilarious. Trust me.
Pizza soap? You bet–whole or by the slice.
The Culture of Sharing: Why Releasing Copyright Will Be the Smartest Thing You Do. Not sure I agree with all of this, but well worth the read.
I adore this Jessica Stam/Gabriel Aubry editorial by Laspata DeCaro: The Chicest Show on Earth.
Joshua Langlais of Denver, CO loves strangers–so much, in fact, that he snaps photos of them and features one every day of the week. Check out his project at I Heart Strangers.
“The Edge” by Bob Hicok:
One day the kid showed up with a tattoo of a stapler
on his shoulder. The others had tattoos of geckos
and fish and the Incredible Hulk, an emerald
Lou Ferrigno against a background of fire. He’d
have been beaten up except they were dazed by it,
not just the precise cursive of the word Swingline
or the luster of the striking plate but the fact
of the stapler itself. He got the last pizza
at lunch and was touched on the wrist by a girl
at the fountain. This made him believe he was real
in a way breathing never had. Over the next
few months he stopped feeling he lived
on the wrong side of the mirror. There
was an election & his name was penciled in
on a few ballots. The guy with the red Camaro
gave him a ride home and let him pick the music.
In second-period French he stood to ask
what Harcourt Brace knew all men wanted to know,
if Monique and Evette would join him Saturday
on the sailboat. First the teacher cried,
then the students sang the Marseillaise
because in four years all he’d ever said
was comment allez-vous? No one questioned the tattoo.
Who’d believe he got up to pee and it was there,
just as the image of the body of Christ
appeared one morning on the thigh
of St. Barthelme of Flours. Otherwise
their stories differ. St. Barthelme was stoned
to death. The kid went to homecoming in a tux
with blue cumulus cuffs and a girl
embarrassed by anything but the slowest dance.
And that’s it! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. It may take me a while to get into my new posting groove, but I’ll be riding the wave regardless; thanks for coming along. Until next time.
