"If Hunter Thompson is your favorite author, there's no telling what future encounters you may have with authorities of all sorts. Good luck for the rest of the semester." -Baird Tipson, president of my alma mater

I am Peter W Knox


I'm going to wish I had written more of this down

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Posted on June 15 2009


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The Irish Rover, my favorite bar in Astoria
(taken earlier on my run around the hood)

The Irish Rover, my favorite bar in Astoria

(taken earlier on my run around the hood)



Posted:
on June 15 2009

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a brand new, and now open Brooklyn Bagel on 30th ave & 36th street in Astoria (can you tell I went for a run around the neighborhood tonight?)

a brand new, and now open Brooklyn Bagel on 30th ave & 36th street in Astoria (can you tell I went for a run around the neighborhood tonight?)


Posted:
on June 15 2009

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imkevin:
David Sedaris is asked to sign a Kindle… ‘This Bespells Doom’. (via Gizmodo)
And they said it couldn’t be done.

imkevin:

David Sedaris is asked to sign a Kindle… ‘This Bespells Doom’. (via Gizmodo)

And they said it couldn’t be done.



Posted:
on June 15 2009

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(via bellavita)

(via bellavita)


Posted:
on June 15 2009

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Posted:
on June 15 2009

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think4yourself:notentirely:theoriginaljoefisher: Whoa. - 
Best depiction of today’s protest in Tehran on Twitpic


two things:

i cannot begin to wrap my head around this photo.
the internet changes everything.

think4yourself:notentirely:theoriginaljoefisher: Whoa. -

Best depiction of today’s protest in Tehran on Twitpic

two things:

  1. i cannot begin to wrap my head around this photo.
  2. the internet changes everything.


Posted:
on June 15 2009

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We watched about 30 minutes or so before heading over to see Phoenix, who turned in the festival’s best set on Friday. As much as we like their new LP, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, the group sounded even more dynamic in a live setting. Not only were front man Thomas Mars’s vocals note- and pitch-perfect, but the band wowed the audience by letting songs like “1901” and “Run Run Run” propulsively build over the course of seven or eight minutes each, more than doubling their running times on the album.

New York Magazine’s Bonnaroo recap

this is making me just so damned excited to see Phoenix play this Friday at Terminal 5.


Posted:
on June 15 2009

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Posted:
on June 15 2009

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If we start condemning abortions for reasons we deem casual, if we think of abortion as something that should only happen under conditions we deem appropriately dire, then we, like Dr. McHugh, place ourselves in judgment of women. If we truly want to preserve a woman’s right to choose what to do with her body, we need to accept that sometimes women will abort for reasons we might not agree with. Really, being pro-choice doesn’t mean thinking every abortion is a good idea. It means realizing that the only person who should truly have the right to determine whether it’s a good idea is the mother, and protecting her rights means allowing her to make decisions we might not necessarily support. If “abortion reduction” means teaching people to protect themselves so they don’t get pregnant in the first place, great. But if it means reducing the number of circumstances under which abortion is sanctioned — whether those circumstances include the life of the mother, the health of the fetus, or the duration of the pregnancy — then abortion reduction is really not a pro-choice position, because it takes the choice out of the hands of the mother, where, ultimately, it belongs.

Posted:
on June 15 2009

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What would happen if everybody posting material online suddenly stopped tomorrow? Suppose all the studios quit making movies, musicians stopped putting out songs and publishers stopped printing books? Would there be nothing left for us to read, listen to or watch? Obviously not. The back catalog of art on the planet’s deeper than the Marianas Trench. It stretches thousands of years behind us and if you started absorbing it all today, relentlessly, without sleep, and you lived to be 100, you’d still only ingest a small fraction of what’s available. And yet here we are - almost all of society fixated soley on what came out this week, if not yesterday, this morning or within the last hour.

Posted:
on June 15 2009

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Seeing The Sting tonight in Bryant Park: one of my all time favorite old time movies - the kind you saw as a young kid sitting on the couch next to your dad as you wait your turn for mom to cut your hair in front of the tv - that stays with you forever.

Seeing The Sting tonight in Bryant Park: one of my all time favorite old time movies - the kind you saw as a young kid sitting on the couch next to your dad as you wait your turn for mom to cut your hair in front of the tv - that stays with you forever.


Posted:
on June 15 2009

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Posted:
on June 15 2009

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The Revolution in Iran: A Recap [Foreign Affairs]
A very comprehensive report on what happened over the weekend by Cajun Boy.

The Revolution in Iran: A Recap [Foreign Affairs]

A very comprehensive report on what happened over the weekend by Cajun Boy.



Posted:
on June 15 2009

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The First Straw | Jeffrey McDaniel

howtofightloneliness:smut-to-go:srsly:

I used to think love was two people sucking
on the same straw to see whose thirst was stronger,

but then I whiffed the crushed walnuts of your nape,
traced jackals in the snow-covered tombstones of your teeth.

I used to think love was a non-stop saxophone solo
in the lungs, till I hung with you like a pair of sneakers

from a phone line, and you promised to always smell
the rose in my kerosene. I used to think love was terminal

pelvic ballet, till you let me jog beside while you pedaled
all over hell on the menstrual bicycle, your tongue

ripping through my prairie like a tornado of paper cuts.
I used to think love was an old man smashing a mirror

over his knee, till you helped me carry the barbell
of my spirit back up the stairs after my car pirouetted

in the desert. You are my history book. I used to not believe
in fairy tales till I played the dunce in sheep’s clothing

and felt how perfectly your foot fit in the glass slipper
of my ass. But then duty wrapped its phone cord

around my ankle and yanked me across the continent.
And now there are three thousand miles between the u

and s in esophagus. And being without you is like standing
at a cement-filled wall with a roll of Yugoslavian nickels

and making a wish. Some days I miss you so much
I’d jump off the roof of your office building

just to catch a glimpse of you on the way down. I wish
we could trade left eyeballs, so we could always see

what the other sees. But you’re here, I’m there,
and we have only words, a nightly phone call - one chance

to mix feelings into syllables and pour into the receiver,
hope they don’t disassemble in that calculus of wire.

And lately - with this whole war thing - the language machine
supporting it - I feel betrayed by the alphabet, like they’re

injecting strychnine into my vowels, infecting my consonants,
naming attack helicopters after shattered Indian tribes:

Apache, Blackhawk; and West Bank colonizers are settlers,
so Sharon is Davey Crockett, and Arafat: Geronimo,

and it’s the Wild West all over again. And I imagine Picasso
looking in a mirror, decorating his face in war paint,

washing his brushes in venom. And I think of Jenin
in all that rubble, and I feel like a Cyclops with two eyes,

like an anorexic with three mouths, like a scuba diver
in quicksand, like a shark with plastic vampire teeth,

like I’m the executioner’s fingernail trying to reason
with the hand. And I don’t know how to speak love

when the heart is a busted cup filling with spit and paste,
and the only sexual fantasy I have is busting

into the Pentagon with a bazooka-sized pen and blowing
open the minds of generals. And I comfort myself

with the thought that we’ll name our first child Jenin,
and her middle name will be Terezin, and we’ll teach her

how to glow in the dark, and how to swallow firecrackers,
and to never neglect the first straw; because no one

ever talks about the first straw, it’s always the last straw
that gets all the attention, but by then it’s way too late.


Posted on June 13 2009


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The Boathouse, Forest Park

The Boathouse, Forest Park

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