The video begins humorously as Anthony Carbajal, a photographer, dresses up in a neon bikini top and soaps up a car before being doused with ice water.
Most people give the homeless change or leftovers, Mark Bustos is cutting their hair
For the past few months, New York City hairstylist Mark Bustos — who normally spends his days working at an upscale salon — has been volunteering on his days off to offer haircuts to homeless people he sees on the street. With a simple phrase, “I want to do something nice for you today,” he has been helping people get a fresh, uplifting makeover.
For people who have been trapped in a cycle of poverty, unemployment and homelessness, the makeover can also serve a useful function: looking presentable for a job.
1. In 2nd grade a boy called me fat, there hasn’t been a day since then, when I loved my body
2. At 18 I found myself locked in a restaurant freezer with a boss who was trying to use his hands to convince me that sex with him was part of the job.
3. There were nights after you left, when I filled my bed with everything that you touched, hoping to fill it with something familiar.
4. The moon warned me not to come see you that night, it hung low trying to touch me. When I
left you, it asked me how could I hate myself so much.
5. When you didn’t call I had to delete every memory of you I had, but you still lingered in the cracks of my walls.
6. Someone once told me that my body was a war zone. The day that I finally understood what that meant, I was bleeding from my forearms trying to recreate the crucifixion.
7. West Indian women are known for having children but being too strong to have men. I’ve never understood the fear some people have of women who expect as opposed to women who hope.
8. That night I wanted to drink until my nose bled, but you were best at shaming my sadness.
9. I hated my legs for never being fast enough to escape the cannibalistic hands of clawing men.
10. I am wrinkled from all of the times I’ve folded myself to fit inside someone else.
11. She loved me so deeply, but I could never love her back. I tried though, I promise I did.
12. I haven’t cried in almost two years, and every time I see you, I pray for rain to end this drought, alas, I am still desolate.
13. My dreams sometimes make me physically ill.
14. I am a glass house and you are David.
15. That night I got so high, I hallucinated hell, I promised God that was my last time.
16.I drank so much that night I thought wine was pouring out of my eyes.
17. I’ve searched for God, but he is elusive and I’ve been destroyed by my own hands.
18. I wanted you, but you didn’t want me.
19. I still want you.
20. I don’t know my history, and now I don’t know myself.
21. I wrestled you out of that quarter, and then you wrestled me out of my virginity.
22. Forgiveness exists, now to convince myself that nothing is too great to be forgiven, that is the trick.
23. The late night bus driver asked me why I was so sad, I asked him what he meant, he said “when you got on my bus, you brought sadness with you”
24. You asked me who hurt me so badly, and I was too proud to say it was you.
25. I clamored drunkenly into the back of the cab, the driver was playing Surah Al Mulk, flooded in shame I whispered astaughfirullah to myself beneath my breath. The driver turned to me and said “Allah is forgiving and we are all weak sometimes”..it changed my life.
26. I had a panic attack when I saw you in the mall holding her small perfect hand.
27. There are doors that I’ve closed forever, if they were ever opened, I am almost certain I would die.
28. My mother hates my writing and it reduces me to a sprawling mess on my bedroom floor, often.
29.I have frequently looked up synonyms for broken.
30. I am scared of my own darkness sometimes.
31. How will I teach my daughter to be nothing like her mother?
32. When the winter comes, I am almost always as bare as a forest.
33. I have to learn to forgive myself.
34. I am so many people, all at once, fighting to survive. This is why I am a perpetual civil war.
35. Blood doesn’t scare me, but disappointing my father does, and my God, have I been known to
36. The hundreds of missing indigenous women in my country, make me feel like I’ve lost hundreds of mothers."
- Key Ballah, 36 Flavors of Self Loathing (via keywrites)
Kevin Francis Gray’s 2005 body of work was so hugely appealing: London youths—the freaks and oft-romanticized street tribes of the East End—were cast as towering Rodin-like figures. These figures wore jeans, tanks, and sneakers; their faces obscured by hoodies and veils. It was urban ghetto-gothic street style immortalized in ancient materials like bronze, marble, and black resin. A once fleeting feeling was rendered permanent, mythical almost.