A top-secret handbook takes viewers on an undercover journey to Titanpointe, the site of a hidden partnership. Narrated by Rami Malek and Michelle Williams, and based on classified NSA documents, Project X reveals the inner workings of a windowless skyscraper in downtown Manhattan.
This film is the product of a joint reporting project between Field of Vision and The Intercept.
Limited prints of this original artwork by Vladimir Zimakov, with *all proceeds* benefitting PEN america (an organization that defends and protects the rights writers and journalists, sorely needed in the upcoming era of Trump) available here:shop.amandapalmer.net/products/limited-edition-cohen-print
and it was political. I made coffee and the coffee was political. I took a shower and the water was. I walked down the street in short shorts and a Bob Mizer tank top and they were political, the walking and the shorts and the beefcake silkscreen of the man posing in a G-string. I forgot my sunglasses and later, on the train, that was political, when I studied every handsome man in the car. Who I thought was handsome was political. I went to work at the university and everything was very obviously political, the department and the institution. All the cigarettes I smoked between classes were political, where I threw them when I was through. I was blond and it was political. So was the difference between “blond” and “blonde.” I had long hair and it was political. I shaved my head and it was. That I didn’t know how to grieve when another person was killed in America was political, and it was political when America killed another person, who they were and what color and gender and who I am in relation. I couldn’t think about it for too long without feeling a helplessness like childhood. I was a child and it was political, being a boy who was bad at it. I couldn’t catch and so the ball became political. My mother read to me almost every night and the conditions that enabled her to do so were political. That my father’s money was new was political, that it was proving something. Someone called me faggot and it was political. I called myself a faggot and it was political. How difficult my life felt relative to how difficult it was was political. I thought I could become a writer and it was political that I could imagine it. I thought I was not a political poet and still my imagination was political. It had been, this whole time I was asleep.
Thomas Bartlett (born October 13, 1981), also known as Doveman, is an American pianist, singer, and producer, best known for his work with Sufjan Stevens, Glen Hansard, The National, Sam Amidon, Nico Muhly, The Gloaming.
Prequel's back with more of the soulful, jazz-tinged productions that got our attention first time round with his debut EP, our 3rd release: 'POLITE STRANGERS'. The record proved a hit with the likes of Gilles Peterson, Osunlade, Recloose, Mister Saturday Night, Ben UFO and garnered a cult following amongst music lovers, spreading the word of the label farther afield in the process. Holding the fort as Rhythm Section ambassador down under, Prequel has stepped things up for his sophomore EP, incorporating spoken word, subtle vocal lines and the same instrumental flourishes that drew us in the first time round. This is a record with a message, a record that speaks from the soul, an homage and above all a very serious artistic statement. We are proud to present Freedom Jazz Dance as our 13th offering on RS INTL.
LETRA: Ouve o que eu te digo, vou-te contar um segredo, é muito lucrativo que o mundo tenha medo, medo da gripe, são mais uns medicamentos, vem outra estirpe reforçar os dividendos, medo da crise e do crime como já vimos no filme, medo de ti e de mim, medo dos tempos, medo que seja tarde, medo que seja cedo e medo de assustar-me se me apontares o dedo, medo de cães e de insectos, medo da multidão, medo do chão e do tecto, medo da solidão, medo de andar de carro, medo do avião, medo de ficar gordo velho e sem um tostão, medo do olho da rua e do olhar do patrão e medo de morrer mais cedo do que a prestação, medo de não ser homem e de não ser jovem, medo dos que morrem e medo do não!
Medo de Deus e medo da polícia, medo de não ir para o céu e medo da justiça, medo do escuro, do novo e do desconhecido, medo do caos e do povo e de ficar perdido, sozinho, sem guito e bem longe do ninho, medo do vinho, do grito e medo do vizinho, medo do fumo, do fogo, da água do mar, medo do fundo do poço, do louco e do ar, medo do medo, medo do medicamento, medo do raio, do trovão e do tormento, medo pelos meus e medo de acidentes, medo de judeus, negros, árabes, chineses, medo do "eu bem te disse", medo de dizer tolice, medo da verdade, da cidade e do apocalipse, o medo da bancarrota e o medo do abismo, o medo de abrir a boca e do terrorismo.
Medo da doença, das agulhas e dos hospitais, medo de abusar, de ser chato e de pedir demais, de não sermos normais, de sermos poucos, medo dos roubos dos outros e de sermos loucos, medo da rotina e da responsabilidade, medo de ficar para tia e medo da idade, com isto compro mais cremes e ponho um alarme, com isto passo mais cheques e adormeço tarde, se não tomar a pastilha, se não ligar à família, se não tiver um gorila à porta de vigília, compro uma arma, agarro a mala, fecho o condomínio, olho por cima do ombro, defendo o meu domínio, protejo a propriedade que é privada e invade-me a vontade de por grade à volta da realidade, do país e da cidade, do meu corpo e identidade, da casa e da sociedade, família e cara-metade... tenho tanto medo... nós temos tanto medo... tenho tanto medo...
o medo paga a farmácia, aceita a vigilância, o medo paga à máfia pela segurança, o medo teme de tudo por isso paga o seguro, por isso constrói o muro e mantém a distância!