Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
oh man this post has length get excited
i made some repeat patterns for an illustration class that i did some illustrations for. then i said i would make them into shirts. i would probably do this is i could, but i can't so i'm probably not ever going to. or whatever, who knows, buy it from me when i do!!!!!
there is a buttload of variety so you get to choose, depending on how intense a person you are!!!
the three patterns were based on the three last stanzas in katrina vandenberg's poem, tulipomania. and also the entire poem, really, and some of her other poems too. look, it's all free stuff. it's like cattle and an open gate. whatever, just take it. okay, what is this. what is a blog. what are words, who is talking, what are you doing
But aren’t you sorry you will never see
a tulip that would make you offer all
you own for the layered, translucent promise
in its brown paper wrapper? Aren’t you sorry
you never saw John Keats in his dressing gown,
scribbling an ode beneath his flowering plum,
will never know the ten thousand men with hemophilia
infected with HIV two decades ago,
and the purpose that briefly lit their brilliant veins?
i'm no john green
there is a buttload of variety so you get to choose, depending on how intense a person you are!!!
the three patterns were based on the three last stanzas in katrina vandenberg's poem, tulipomania. and also the entire poem, really, and some of her other poems too. look, it's all free stuff. it's like cattle and an open gate. whatever, just take it. okay, what is this. what is a blog. what are words, who is talking, what are you doing
But aren’t you sorry you will never see
a tulip that would make you offer all
you own for the layered, translucent promise
in its brown paper wrapper? Aren’t you sorry
you never saw John Keats in his dressing gown,
scribbling an ode beneath his flowering plum,
will never know the ten thousand men with hemophilia
infected with HIV two decades ago,
and the purpose that briefly lit their brilliant veins?
i'm no john green
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