I'm Matt. I live in Allston, MA. I like art, making photographs, and collecting records. Steezy menswear is cool too.

~Screamo is for lovers.~
I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away.
- Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via pavorst)


“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.” - e.e. cummings

Does Alice dream of wonderlan? by *jurithedreamer
I’m the kind of person who likes to be by himself. To put a finer point on it, I’m the type of person who doesn’t find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone, as well as four or five hours alone at my desk, to be neither difficult nor boring. I’ve had this tendency ever since I was young, when, given a choice, I much preferred reading books on my own or concentrating on listening to music over being with someone else. I could always think of things to do by myself.
- Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (via the-professional-student)


Reading Rainbow Might Stop the iPad From Ruining the Brains of All Children

For a generation now creating advanced things and placed in corridors of power, LeVar Burton was a god-king: both Star Trek’s Geordi La Forge, and the guy who taught us to like books on Reading Rainbow. Now, the two Burtons are fused—and it’s pretty incredible.
LeVar Burton has an app—it’s available starting today. Sure. Lots of people have apps. But it’s doubtful anyone cares as much about their app as LeVar Burton. I step into an expensive hotel room in Midtown Manhattan, and Burton springs up, greeting me by name, shaking my hand, talking almost immediately about reading. There’s an iPad in front of him.
But this isn’t just any product pitch—which is good, because Burton lacks all the unctuousness of a salesman or marketing player. He just… cares. His enthusiasm for an app designed to encourage little kids to read is almost overwhelming. How many people care about anything this much? And how much can I possibly properly appreciate an app designed for tiny kiddo brains? I can’t—so we brought our own: two boys, 3 and 5-years-old, stuck in that valley of super-hyperactivity spanning the end of school and the beginning of summer camp. As Burton lays out the app’s basics—a free download, a $10 per month subscription for unlimited kid-friendly titles, a vibrant cartoonish interface with hot air balloons and floating islands that capture the original series’ acid trip charm—the kids fidget. The older immediately covers himself in pretzel crumbs, the young starts chirping for mom’s attention. The kids are kids. It’s summer and they’d rather not be in a Midtown Manhattan hotel room on a beautiful day. Nobody would.
But then something incredible happens. We hand the older boy the iPad and fire up the Reading Rainbow app. He’s transfixed. The only word is transfixed. The fussing and pretzel-crunching stops, and his little brother curls next to him. They don’t fight over who gets to hold it. They both know intuitively how to use it—complete naturals. He picks pirates, animals, and space as his three preferred topics to generate recommended books. He starts reading along with Burton’s pre-recorded narration. The Wi-Fi sucks and the download stalls. He doesn’t care. The kids are—patient? Attentive? About a book.
I ask Burton if he thinks this is ultimately good, this sticking of LCDs under the eyes of children. Having seen lots of absentee parenting by way of iOS—kids handed a stray iPhone as they might be handed a pacifier, to shut them up in public—could the ubiquitous computer hurt little heads? Can the touchscreen warp fingers that’ve been flipping (and smearing chocolate on) paper for hundreds of years? “We can try to sequester ourselves from technology,” Burton shakes his head. But this is pointless, he explains. Kids like those two mesmerized by an app are an inevitability—and if we can make them mesmerized by a book instead of a game, we have to take the chance. We must. Burton is emphatic. “Ed[ucational] tech!” Burton grunts, pounding his palm with his fist. It’s imperative to him that we get kids using these everywhere-screens to become readers, writers, and thinkers, before they become something else. “We’ve already lost an entire generation of children. Maybe two,” he laments. This one, for whom touch screens are a given, should be different. It must be different, and you can see in LeVar Burton’s almost crazed eyes that the dude really, really, really wants kids to read more. And it seems like they will—if there’s one young charm you can count on, it’s that a little boy will tell you something is stupid and is bad and smells like poop if he thinks so. They’re a brutally honest lot. But our kindergarten demo team gave shy smiles and thumbs up.
Burton doesn’t act surprised in the slightest. And why should he? He lived this world 30 years ago: “I mean, come on—Geordi was carrying an iPad around the Enterprise!”


Quoting Ray Bradbury (1920-2012), who passed away on Tuesday, at 91-years-old. He wasn’t one for technology and perhaps not electronic tributes either.

But here’s ours anyway. 

Quotes via GoodReads. Click pictures to embiggen.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
- Robert Frost (via virtutes-vitia)

The more intelligent, the less sane
- George Orwell (via ruby-teenagedoom)

(via ruby-teenagedoom-deactivated201)


from the PRESS RELEASE (1999) project, where a London gallery “corrects” language in art show announcements “grammatically and theoretically.” An example of what a recent Triple Canopy essay calls “International Art English”
Boulderpavement: How French Theory Changed Art Speak


The collective project of IAE [International Art English] has become actively global. Acts of linguistic mimicry and one-upmanship now ricochet across the Web. (Usage of the wordspeculative spiked unaccountably in 2009; 2011 saw a sudden rage for rupture; transversal now seems poised…

It was the faintest of smiles, yet he felt the tides start to shift all over the world.
- Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via an-ailsa)

Boston, where you never wanted to live, where you feel you’ve been exiled to, becomes a serious problem. You have trouble adjusting to it full-time; to its trains that stop running at midnight, to the glumness of its inhabitants, to its startling lack of Sichuan food.
- Junot Díaz, This Is How You Lose Her (via trainwrite)

Even if we could turn back, we’d probably never end up where we started.
- Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via 4mbivalent)

(via 4mbivalent-deactivated20130424)

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
- John Keats (via dailydoseofstuf)

what you see is what you see:
madhouses are rarely
on display.

that we still walk about and
scratch ourselves and light

is more than a miracle

than bathing beauties
than roses and the moth.

to sit in a room
and drink a can of beer
and roll a cigarette
while listening to Brahms
on a small radio

is to have come back
from a dozen wars

listening to the sound
of the refrigerator

as bathing beauties rot

and the oranges and apples
roll away.

- Charles Bukowski, “a horse with greenblue eyes” (via shesanargonaut)