Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
≈ Comments Off on sheila take a bow
07 Sunday Apr 2013
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
≈ Comments Off on sheila take a bow
03 Wednesday Apr 2013
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under photograph
≈ Comments Off on skateboarding in kabul
02 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in photograph
≈ Comments Off on ghost bat
Tags
This is not a quoll. It is a ghost bat, Australia’s only carnivorous bat.
Taking a photograph of a ghost bat in near darkness is tricky. Thin depth of field and longish shutter speed are OK for chuditches that sleep a lot, but ghost bats are constantly moving around. This image was just a case of narrowing down the variables (lighting, focus, etc) to something favorable then holding down the shutter release while crossing my fingers.
A bit of backlight would have been nice but you can’t have everything.
taken from Quollism
02 Tuesday Apr 2013
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under photograph
≈ Comments Off on simply beautiful
01 Monday Apr 2013
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under photograph
≈ Comments Off on the runaways, 1976
01 Monday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, photograph
≈ Comments Off on This is Mkrtich. He’s a cobbler/shoe repairer …
On the anniversary of the 1988 earthquake in Armenia, where over 25,000 people were killed Words by me, photos by two awesome photographers and a beautiful short film by independent film maker Talene, aka Vochinch. Excerpt is below, but you can read the entire thing here: 23 Years Later, Gyumri Struggles to Move On
The train from Yerevan to Gyumri took three hours. It was sturdy, but Soviet. Sturdy but Soviet. I sat on its wooden pews, looked at its safety posters with Cyrillic letters I could recognize, but not understand. I imagined myself in one of those grand train scenes in film – the ones filled with smoke, calls from the conductor, long goodbyes and waves from windows that seem to drag on long after the train has left the station.
We rode along Mount Ararat, just miles from the closed Turkish border, passing post offices, small towns, grazing sheep and marshutkas heading back to Yerevan in time for lunch. Then, Gyumri came into view, wearing its heart on its sleeve, and on the buildings still in ruin from a day that changed the course of its history forever. There is something hollow about Gyumri, and yet whole at the same time. The air wafts of tragedy, but the wind reveals its need to go on, despite its sordid circumstances. As I exited the bus station the scenes I had heard about so many times in my head began to play out.
On a winter morning 23 years ago, at 11:41 a.m., Gyumri and neighboring Spitak were hit by a 6.8 magnitude earthquake that killed over 25,000, left 19,000 injured and hundreds of thousands of people homeless. More than 20 towns and 342 villages were affected, and 58 of them were completely destroyed.
Photos above by K. Shamlian/2011
from The Human Journalist
01 Monday Apr 2013
Tags
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under .gif
≈ Comments Off on all praise scary spice
30 Saturday Mar 2013
Posted in .gif, Feminism, Illustration and art
30 Saturday Mar 2013
Tags
* * *
The sister-brother duo of little Haiku and big, clumsy JR, plus my elderly lady, Ma Cat, who will try to make a nest out of anything she can find. It’s good to have family.
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art, photograph, self-portrait
28 Thursday Mar 2013
Tags
a taste like brine, he called me Jah, homoerotic, merman, rasta in the surf, stone and bone thrill
Up there it’s a bastard: rain, tears, spit, piss.
I’ve had it all. Down here, though, each deep breadth
pleases; the sun is a beacon. There’s bliss
in this pressure per square inch. Crushing depth,
they call it. All the sky is full of blue
ripples. There are two-legged boys I know, shy
when they first meet mother. What’s that haiku?
“Mother I never knew,/ every time I
see the ocean/ every time.” Yes. Indeed.
Go down, love, I tell them. They taste like brine.
How odd that things made of bone and stone thrill.
I had a lover who called me “Jah;” smoked weed
floating on the surface. I took what’s mine
“I love you,” he said, as he kissed each gill.