When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. he sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lampost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it.
When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *acedemical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on.
But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.
And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.
Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit (via nyctaeus)
When I lived in Montana, I heard about a man who was one of those “prep for the end of the world” folks. He had some money from working on an oil refinery in Alberta (apparently it’s pretty lucrative), and he was able to retire early and start prepping. The ironic thing about guys like him is that they all think the end of the world will somehow affect them, when in reality no one lives in or cares about Montana. If you want to prepare for the end of the world in order to have an advantage, maybe pick a nice spot in Florida where you can hang out with the alligators and ride the Disney roller coasters after everyone else is gone.
Anyway, this guy starts building a huge fort in the middle of the forest. There weren’t any pictures of it, but according to the man’s press release, it’s the size of a couple football fields put together, at least three stories high, and had some basement levels, too. This thing was huge, with farms, solar panels, a pool, basically anything you would ever need or want after civilization disappears.
After fifteen years of construction, the complex is finally done, and the guy decides to move in to his new fort. Five days later, he gets pneumonia and dies.
Strength is being able to crush a tomato.
Dexterity is being able to dodge a tomato.
Constitution is being able to eat a bad tomato.
Intelligence is knowing a tomato is a fruit.
Wisdom is knowing not to put a tomato in a fruit salad.
Charisma is being able to sell a tomato based fruit salad.
If I stop reblogging this assume I’m dead
Every time I see this I get tears down my face from laughing.