Art in a book. Katharina Gaenssler via This Isn’t Happiness.

David Lebovitz makes a meatball sandwich.

Two for Toozday.

[Photo by Burt Glinn via Je Suis Perdu]

Sad news to report. Steve Sabol has died. He was 69. To me, NFL Films is the best thing that ever happened to pro football.

Here is a terrific piece on Sabol by Rich Cohen over at the Atlantic.

Sabol will be missed.

A British friend of my mother’s once clipped out an article on the British food shop Myers of Keswick that appeared in Parade Magazine. Must have be in the mid-’80s. It was a home away from home for my mom’s friend and for years it was the only place I could find HP or Daddies sauce here in New York.

It’s still here–which is no small achievement–and worth a visit. Check out the Serious Eats tour.

[Photo Credit: Off the Broiler]

Self-Portrait by Francis Bacon.

Don’t worry…’bout a thing.

[Photo Credit: Bags]

When I was 13 I was eager to see Amadeus so I went to the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas one Saturday afternoon to catch it. But it was sold out. Instead, I saw Stop Making Sense. It remains one of the most exciting experiences I’ve ever had in a movie theater.

From P. Kael’s review:

“Stop Making Sense” makes wonderful sense. A concert film by the New York new-wave rock band Talking Heads, it was shot during three performances at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre in December, 1983, and the footage has been put together without interviews and with very few cutaways. The director, Jonathan Demme, offers us a continuous rock experience that keeps building, becoming ever more intense and euphoric. This has not been a year when American movies overflowed with happiness; there was some in “Splash”, and there’s quite a lot in “All of Me”—especially in its last, dancing minutes. “Stop Making Sense” is the only current movie that’s a dose of happiness from beginning to end. The lead singer, David Byrne, designed the stage lighting and the elegantly plain performance-art environments (three screens used for backlit side projections); there’s no glitter, no sleaze. The musicians aren’t trying to show us how hot they are; the women in the group aren’t there to show us some skin. Seeing the movie is like going to an austere orgy—which turns out to be just what you wanted.

Hey, sweet baby, don’t ya think maybe…

[Photo Via: Leaving Eden]

House to Haus on artichokes and aging.

Here’s Jason Bailey over at the Atlantic on Do The Right Thing.

Dig this gallery of collages by Laura Redburn over at Flavorwire.

“Figure in Shadows,” By Edouard Vysekal (1927)

It’s always a good time for Hank.

Long Gone Lonesome Blues (Single Version)

[Photo Via: Lovely Derriere]

One Step Beyond.

Good, long profile by Alexsandar Hemon on the Wachowskis and their new movie Cloud Atlas in the New Yorker. I wasn’t riveted by the Matrix-and I think I only saw the first one–but I’m curious to see Cloud Atlas after reading this piece.

Saveur pairs ’em up for lunch.

Jazz Portraits by Garth Glazier.

Grand Groove.

[Photo Via: Porn For Blind]

Blend of the Year. Download Now.

The Best Word Ever? Click here.