September 7th, 2008 | Mos Def & Talib Kweli

From Mos Def and Talib Kweli's "Respiration":

...
So much on my mind that I can't recline
Blastin holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Heard the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I can't take it y'all, I can feel the city breathin
Chest heavin, against the flesh of the evening
Sigh before we die like the last train leaving
...

Here's the video

September 4th, 2008 | Deliver us from Hell

America turns its back on whitey

September 4th, 2008 | David Harvey's Lectures on Marx's Capital

If ever the internet needed justification for its existence...

CUNY professor David Harvey's lectures on Marx's Capital.

September 2nd, 2008 | New Orleans

A New York Times blogger watches New Orleans' "Disaster Industrial Complex" scramble to action

August 30th, 2008 | Baked Alaska

New York Times columnist Gail Collins on McCain's "inspired" VP pick.

August 28th, 2008 | Edouard Lock

A film version of La La La Human Steps choreographer Edouard Lock's Amelia, with music by David Lang.

August 27th, 2008 | Obama Shoots Hoops, Talks Olympics

Obama on the Olympics:

When a host country is violating human rights, I think we have to say something. It would have been an appropriate statement for the president to say, "I will not go to the opening [ceremony of the olympic] games unless we've seen some progress on the issue of Tibet. If all of us are silent all the time, then human beings all across the globe are being silenced and being oppressed in ways that I don't think captures the olympic spirit

August 23rd, 2008 | The Skin of the Dream

Finnish soprano Karita Mattila sings Kaija Saariaho's "Parfum e l'instant" at Esa-Pekka Solonen's 50th birthday gala

August 22nd, 2008 | Warbler Delight

Writer Amy Leach on a peculiar bird that sinks, and flies "from summer to summer to summer"...

August 21st, 2008 | Modernity

Proust, caught in the "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow":

Unhappily those marvelous places, railway stations, from which one sets out for a remote destination, are tragic places also, for in them the miracle is accomplished whereby scenes which hitherto have had no existence save in our minds are about to become the scenes among which we shall be living, for that very reason we must, as we emerge from the waiting-room, abandon any thought of presently finding ourselves once more in the familiar room which but a moment ago still housed us. We must lay aside all hope of going home to sleep in our own bed, once we have decided to penetrate into the pestiferous cavern through which we gain access to the mystery, into one of these vast, glass-roofed sheds, like that of Saint Lazare into which I went to find the train for Balbec, and which extend over the eviscerated city one of those bleak and boundless skies, heavy with an accumulation of dramatic menace, like certain skies painted with an almost Parisian modernity by Mantegna or Veronese, beneath which only some terrible and solemn act could be in process, such as a departure by train or the erection of the Cross.

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