JubileeThefifthelemental
New post from A Few Words
from http://bit.ly/N72Tdj
Weekend Hashtag Project: #watchingwatchers
Weekend Hashtag Project: #watchingwatchers
The goal this weekend is to capture photographs of surveillance cameras. Be on the lookout for closed-circuit television cameras, traffic cameras, and nests of surveillance cameras.
PROJECT RULES: Please only submit photos you yourself have taken over this weekend. Any image taken then tagged over the weekend is eligible to be featured here on Monday morning!
A Body Of Work
Anyone else conduct an imaginary belly chat with themselves
in the final breathing pose? It’s just me then? Imagining my belly button mouthing numbers in a muffled Antonio Banderas Spanish, ocho! nueve! The two dimples on my abs are eyes, tightly closed in emoticon joy :0 and as i pant my way to 60 i am silently amused. But seriously. Joy! I made it back to The Room this week, had my first pain free class in four months. I feel a lil sheepish about this, but the first few weeks of my trapped nerve I kept on going to Bikram. I couldn’t not go. It took me a while to appreciate that I needed to back off and stop. I kept going because the routine of going every day feels right for me, I kept going because everything feels better to me when I feel fit, I kept going because not progressing towards my goal feels worse than the physical pain of an injury. So to work with it, I got a good set of modifications from a teacher, still it didn’t get any better. I was sitting out sets and with the most aggravating poses missing out postures completely. These weren’t pauses to regain my composure it was definitely pain i couldn’t work through. Typically for me, when I stopped going it was the Flu that forced me to stay home. Who gets Flu in the balls of their feet? Me. What is the function of that? To make me respect my body obviously and let go of any attachment to what I think i should be doing. I began to fret and get antsy by week 3 & I managed a week of classes before I went down again. This time I stayed away until I was completely back on form. The interesting thing for me, was how i felt so strong after all that time away. I expected to feel like a newbie again on my first day back, but I was discounting the fact that I have four years of practice that can’t be undone by a few weeks away. Talking it through with D after his class I pinpointed how each time I’ve gone to the ‘next level’ with Bikram over the years I’ve been quite unwell. It’s as though going deeper with it shakes my body up, releases some unnecessary stuff that floors me for a bit and i just have to ride it out. I’ve heard that Bikram believes the spinal column functions like a containment field for illness and that going deeper with back bends is like opening a release valve, I don’t know enough about that yet but I do feel that being ill can be strengthening. Stepping away from the routine of classes gives the body time to relax.I like the comfort of knowing I have a body of work to return too when I do step away.![redlightpolitics:
rosa—sparks:
madamethursday:
[Image: A picture of a tall, very thin Black woman with her shoulder over a shorter, older white man wearing traditional Orthodox Jewish clothing on a New York sideway.]
staghunts:
“This one is very serious, guys:
I came upon these two on the sidewalk. They were having a conversation. “Excuse me,” I said, addressing the girl: “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is there anyway I can take your photo?”
“Why would you want my photo?” she asked.
“Because you look beautiful,” I said. And she did. She was Sudanese. There is a very distinct beauty among people from the Sudan, and she was filled up with it. Suddenly the man cut in:
“I was just telling her she was beautiful,” he said.
Naively, I assumed I had just walked up on one stranger giving a compliment to another. I wanted to capture the moment. “Let me take your photograph together,” I said. The man seemed reluctant, he started smiling nervously and inching away. But the girl called him back.
“Come take a picture with me,” she said. Encouraged by her attention, he returned. She put her arm around him, and I took the photo.
As I examined the photos on my camera, the man started whispering to the girl. She answered him in a loud voice: “I told you! I’m not that kind of girl.” She seemed agitated now. Finally sensing that I had misread the situation, I stepped between them. The man began hurrying down the sidewalk.
When the man left, the girl’s demeanor changed completely. She seemed shaken. Her eyes were tearing up. “He just offered me five hundred dollars to go out with him,” she said. “And then when I said ‘no,’ he offered me one thousand. Why does this always happen to me?”
“It happens a lot?” I asked.
“All the time,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m getting emotional. I just can’t go out of my house without this kind of thing happening. I have a son. I’m a mother. I would never degrade myself like that. I just don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
“Do you mind if I tell this story?” I asked.
“Please,” she said. “Tell it.”
Let’s hope this man, and all men, realize the emotional damage they are inflicting on the women they try to buy. In the meantime, feel free to SHARE.*
Dear Tumblr, fuck you for trying to erase this.
I’m saving this post because as many times as Tumblr tries to erase this woman’s story and act like anything about this was okay, that’s as many times as I’m reposting it. They can either cut me off or stop being assnuggets about this. whichEVER.
Do not forget this.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3v4ahIMJ41qlxu8ho1_500.jpg)
[Image: A picture of a tall, very thin Black woman with her shoulder over a shorter, older white man wearing traditional Orthodox Jewish clothing on a New York sideway.]
“This one is very serious, guys:
I came upon these two on the sidewalk. They were having a conversation. “Excuse me,” I said, addressing the girl: “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is there anyway I can take your photo?”
“Why would you want my photo?” she asked.
“Because you look beautiful,” I said. And she did. She was Sudanese. There is a very distinct beauty among people from the Sudan, and she was filled up with it. Suddenly the man cut in:
“I was just telling her she was beautiful,” he said.
Naively, I assumed I had just walked up on one stranger giving a compliment to another. I wanted to capture the moment. “Let me take your photograph together,” I said. The man seemed reluctant, he started smiling nervously and inching away. But the girl called him back.
“Come take a picture with me,” she said. Encouraged by her attention, he returned. She put her arm around him, and I took the photo.
As I examined the photos on my camera, the man started whispering to the girl. She answered him in a loud voice: “I told you! I’m not that kind of girl.” She seemed agitated now. Finally sensing that I had misread the situation, I stepped between them. The man began hurrying down the sidewalk.
When the man left, the girl’s demeanor changed completely. She seemed shaken. Her eyes were tearing up. “He just offered me five hundred dollars to go out with him,” she said. “And then when I said ‘no,’ he offered me one thousand. Why does this always happen to me?”
“It happens a lot?” I asked.
“All the time,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m getting emotional. I just can’t go out of my house without this kind of thing happening. I have a son. I’m a mother. I would never degrade myself like that. I just don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
“Do you mind if I tell this story?” I asked.
“Please,” she said. “Tell it.”
Let’s hope this man, and all men, realize the emotional damage they are inflicting on the women they try to buy. In the meantime, feel free to SHARE.*
Dear Tumblr, fuck you for trying to erase this.
I’m saving this post because as many times as Tumblr tries to erase this woman’s story and act like anything about this was okay, that’s as many times as I’m reposting it. They can either cut me off or stop being assnuggets about this. whichEVER.
Do not forget this.
