The Cumberland News, Maryland, September 29, 1961
Not today Justin

JBB: An Artblog!
Jules of Nature
đȘŒ
ojovivo
Stranger Things
hello vonnie
todays bird

oozey mess
styofa doing anything

romaâ
RMH

if i look back, i am lost
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available
$LAYYYTER
we're not kids anymore.

titsay
AnasAbdin
Misplaced Lens Cap

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@9987999thplace
The Cumberland News, Maryland, September 29, 1961
Some newer, cheerier Dewey posters. Feel free to use at your library or school, and Iâd love to know if you do!
Your greatest strength is that every man believes he knows the sum and possibility of every woman.
Sexing the Cherry, Jeanette WInterson
Il va me falloir au moins deux posts pour rĂ©sumer tout ce qui m'a plu dans le travail de Camille Dupuis. Je suis littĂ©ralement subjuguĂ©e. Son travail est Ă©voquĂ© dans le n°2 de Flow Magazine, mais c'est surtout grĂące Ă leur site que j'ai vraiment vu (Ă dĂ©faut de toucher, ce dont on rĂȘve instantanĂ©ment quand on voit ses rĂ©alisations), ses crĂ©ations bizarres de feutrine, de tricot et de crochet. Je suis Ă nouveau enrhumĂ©e voyez-vous, et la matiĂšre de ces Ă©tranges objets apporte un rĂ©confort bienvenu. Sur son blog, elle range ses crĂ©ations sous d'Ă©tonnantes appellations : ex voto, trophĂ©es, fossiles⊠En effet, ses tĂ©lĂ©phones de feutrine et de dentelle sont fossilisĂ©s dans leur look rĂ©tro, tout comme les radios kitsch. J'adore ce qu'elle fait car c'est complĂštement inĂ©dit. On sent qu'elle creuse ce qu'elle a en elle, sans chercher Ă dĂ©gager un sens particulier, un message, elle trafique (comme disait ma grand-mĂšre), triture, malaxe, fait bouillir, couds, tricote et de ses mains sortent un bestiaire touchant, des coquilles belles mais cassĂ©es, des tĂ©lĂ©phones jolis mais obsolĂštes⊠Elle rĂ©cupĂšre nos dĂ©chets (du moins ceux de ses copines - vieux bas, collants, linge dont on ne veut plus) et elle le recycle Ă travers le prisme de son esprit crĂ©atif pour aboutir Ă des objets profondĂ©ment poĂ©tiques. Camille, je vous aime. œ
camdup.com
When people of colour are expected to educate white people as to their humanity, when women are expected to educate men, lesbians and gay men are expected to educate the heterosexual world, the oppressors maintain their position and evade their responsibility for their own actions.
Audre Lorde (via stories-yet-to-be-written) (via devintheedudee)
omg Matt, just tell the boy you love him
Agumon: Yamato doesn't talk about Taichi at all.
Agumon: You guys don't get along?
Yamato: Well...
Koshiro: Actually, they get along well.
Yamato: No, we don't.
Agumon: You don't like him?
Yamato: I don't hate him.
Yamato: It's just...
Yamato: I expect too much of him.
Watch: Comedian Adam Conover just obliterated every stereotype about millennials in one presentation.
My father at the dictionary stand Touches the page to fully understand The lamplit answer, tilting in his hand His slowly scanning magnifying lens, A blurry, glistening circle he suspends Above the word 'Carnation.' Then he bends So near his eyes are magnified and blurred, One finger on the miniature word, As if he touched a single key and heard A distant, plucked infinitesimal string, 'The obligation due to every thing That's smaller than the universe.' ...
âSupernatural Loveâ by Gjertrud Schnackenberg
Parent to child at the library: Shhh...remember what we said about being loud in the library?
Child: We'll wake up the books.
Parent: That's right.
thoughts on the friendzone
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didnât know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. Â we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. Â he wasnât the only one. Â there was ben, and mitch, and noahâbut kyleâs the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me âbecause youâre a girl and iâm a boy, shouldnât we like each other?â
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldnât just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. Â we built block towers and sang to my teacherâs lion king soundtracks when sheâd turn the lights off during lunch time. Â one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. Â everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if heâd kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. Â people didnât like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. Â he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him iâd be his best friend because iâd always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. Â he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didnât show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. Â heâd ask me personal invasive questions but i didnât mind because it was attention and i liked attention. Â i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. Â i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? Â but whenever i asked him, he just told me, âgirls only date assholes. Â thereâs no room for nice guys like me.â
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. Â being friendly. Â i thought we were friends. Â but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said âdamnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and sheâs only interested in chicks!â
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. Â beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if iâd ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how heâd never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and heâd talk about all my favourite games with me. Â he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. Â but heâd put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, heâd still come over every day and do it.
âdonât you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? Â donât you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?â
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who donât give ânice guysâ like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. Â and iâm 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesnât love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not âwhat a bitch,â were not âshe just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!â were not âim going to keep pushing her until she dates me,â
they were
âshe is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best sheâs ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.â
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. Â that he just wanted her for a relationship. Â a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. Â a girl whoâs trust youâve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. Â but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
Even if you donât read it all, read the last sentence. Then you will understand so much about me and other girls.
Hello. I am an academic librarian in Milwaukee, and I love these Dewey images! Would we be able to use them for our library by adapting them in Photoshop? We are happy to credit you, if you'd like. Thanks for considering! Dan
Absolutely! Librarians, friends to libraries: please help yourself, print copies, play with colors and sizes, etc. Credit is always nice, but so long as youâre using the images to educate or encourage someone to use their library, not selling them, Iâm totes on board. :)
i want to force like 75% of male nerddom to watch this conversation
always reblog
eddave:
the detriments of parting your hair on the right
my gf is german and she just forgot the word for slug so she asked me âhow do you call snails without homesâÂ
Keizersgracht - Amsterdam, The Netherlands