timeshaiku:

A haiku from the article:  Ariana Grande Prepares ‘My Everything’

Yes…

timeshaiku:

A haiku from the article: Ariana Grande Prepares ‘My Everything’

Yes…

Geometry…

Geometry…

(Source: strankowski, via architectureofdoom)

freeindie:

Sobelman’s Pub & Grill, a bar in Milwaukee, now serves a Bloody Mary with a full fried chicken as a garnish.

Oh my…

freeindie:

Sobelman’s Pub & Grill, a bar in Milwaukee, now serves a Bloody Mary with a full fried chicken as a garnish.

Oh my…

newsweek:

BRIDGEHAMPTON, N.Y. — Richard G. Hendrickson dials a certain telephone number by 10 a.m. every day. “Bridgehampton,” he says into the receiver. “Good morning.” 

They know his voice at the National Weather Service. “I don’t say Hendrickson,” he said. “Sometimes if they’ve got a new one” — a new meteorologist answering the phone at the New York-area forecast office in Upton, N.Y., about 40 miles away — “they’ll say, ‘Who is this?’ ” 

Who this is is not some nicely tanned surfer checking a thermometer when he is not catching a wave, as one might expect in the Hamptons, but a 101-year-old volunteer who has taken weather readings for 84 years. 

Twice a day, every day, he has recorded the temperature, precipitation and wind from the same area of Bridgehampton. He has been at it through 14 presidencies, 13 New York governorships and 14 mayoralties in that city 96 miles away. 

The Weather Service says he has taken more than 150,000 individual readings. His is the longest continuous streak in the history of the Weather Service, which has 8,700 such volunteers nationwide, including 55 in the New York area. The agency says he is the first to serve for more than eight decades. And to answer the obvious question, yes, he has been known to take the occasional vacation. 

In his 20s, he went to New Zealand — “as far away as you can get,” he said. His mother filled in at the weather station. 

Long Island Weather Observer Sets U.S. Record With 84-Year Streak - NYTimes.com

Very cool…

newsweek:

BRIDGEHAMPTON, N.Y. — Richard G. Hendrickson dials a certain telephone number by 10 a.m. every day. “Bridgehampton,” he says into the receiver. “Good morning.”

They know his voice at the National Weather Service. “I don’t say Hendrickson,” he said. “Sometimes if they’ve got a new one” — a new meteorologist answering the phone at the New York-area forecast office in Upton, N.Y., about 40 miles away — “they’ll say, ‘Who is this?’ ”

Who this is is not some nicely tanned surfer checking a thermometer when he is not catching a wave, as one might expect in the Hamptons, but a 101-year-old volunteer who has taken weather readings for 84 years.

Twice a day, every day, he has recorded the temperature, precipitation and wind from the same area of Bridgehampton. He has been at it through 14 presidencies, 13 New York governorships and 14 mayoralties in that city 96 miles away.

The Weather Service says he has taken more than 150,000 individual readings. His is the longest continuous streak in the history of the Weather Service, which has 8,700 such volunteers nationwide, including 55 in the New York area. The agency says he is the first to serve for more than eight decades. And to answer the obvious question, yes, he has been known to take the occasional vacation.

In his 20s, he went to New Zealand — “as far away as you can get,” he said. His mother filled in at the weather station.

Long Island Weather Observer Sets U.S. Record With 84-Year Streak - NYTimes.com

Very cool…

socialistmodernism:

Cable Car Station, Chisinau, Moldova


Concrete…

socialistmodernism:

Cable Car Station, Chisinau, Moldova

Concrete…

(via architectureofdoom)

likeafieldmouse:

Siza Vieira

Disorienting…

likeafieldmouse:

Siza Vieira

Disorienting…

Sounds from Friday evening

Weather
by George Bilgere
My father would lift me
to the ceiling in his big hands
and ask, How’s the weather up there?
And it was good, the weather
of being in his hands, his breath
of scotch and cigarettes, his face
smiling from the world below.
O daddy, was the lullaby I sang
back down to him as he stood on earth,
my great, white-shirted father, home
from work, his gold wristwatch
and wedding band gleaming
as he held me above him
for as long as he could,
before his strength failed
down there in the world I find myself
standing in tonight, my little boy
looking down from his flight
below the ceiling, cradled in my hands,
his eyes wide and already staring
into the distance beyond the man
asking him again and again,
How’s the weather up there?

The Reunion
by Jack Ridl
The last time I saw them we were young.
Ginny was a cheerleader. Ben was getting
A’s in trig. Tonight we glance at nametags.
Around the cheese tray, we say, “Of course I remember you.” “Yes, four years ago.
Things are better now.” “No, she never
graduated, moved. I don’t know where.” We look good. The food is just fine. The music
brings it all back, and we dance the latest steps
across our brain’s prom floor. It’s all the same. And nothing is. We’re still dumb kids, just gray
and tame. If we had it to do again, we’d get it
right. Some are sure they got it right the first time. They ask for another Manhattan, dry
martini, scotch on the rocks. They glisten
in their tans. They watch the rest of us, the ones with comb-overs, two divorces,
the ones who look for lower gas prices,
a good night’s sleep, group tours.
“The Reunion” by Jack Ridl from Practicing to Walk Like a Heron. © Wayne State University Press, 2013. Reprinted with permission.

Mindful by Mary Oliver

Everyday
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

"Mindful" by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early. © Beacon Press, 2005.