shapely sugar bowl
wallacepolsom

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Discoholic 🪩
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
cherry valley forever
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Jules of Nature
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

oozey mess

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH

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Kaledo Art
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Peter Solarz
Claire Keane

@theartofmadeline
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA

PR's Tumblrdome

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@ambulant2000
shapely sugar bowl
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, book covers
Joy Sullivan, from "Late Bloomer", Instructions for Traveling West
The first thing you learn is that Lin Manuel Miranda could be anywhere but you won't know until it's already too late
And the next thing you learn is how cold it can get at night
Domanick Stewart, August 7, 2024.
Evan Bryant, August 30, 2024.
Javion Magee, September 11, 2024.
Jacobe Lindsey, September 17, 2024.
Denoris Richardson, September 28, 2024.
Percy Mixon, October 11, 2024.
Mario Kaiser, April 29, 2025.
Earl Smith, June 18th, 2025.
Trey Reed, September 15, 2025.
Police show up on site and say nothing suspicious happened and close the case.
So, you know who's in on it as usual.
A second, independent autopsy will be conducted for De’Martravion “Trey” Reed — whose body was found on the Delta State University campus —
recency bias is worse now than it ever has been before
good morning kings let’s push this boulder
To all my followers
GET RUBE GOLDBERG-HYPNOTIZED
my copy has finally arrived... sixteen old songs from my earnest friends
THE CORONER'S GAMBIT LINER NOTES
TRANSCRIPT:
HE was a guy from California who'd fallen in love with a woman from Iowa. She was working at a water testing lab. They lived in a very small house whose pipes froze every winter. The landlord would come by and put space heaters under the sink. Years later, they retained the memory of the water coming back on - the sudden sound of the shower, the rush from the sink. They slept on a foam mattress in the bedroom in the summer, and on the couch in the living room in the winter, since the house did not have central heating, rendering the bedroom essentially uninhabitable from December through March.
They were not really the kind of people to plan things: they had fun when and where they could on an austere budget. The ice skates they bought used from Play It Again Sports made for fun Christmas mornings on West Indian Creek in Nevada, one town over from where they lived. He learned to cook, and to bake: they didn't go out to eat, because there really wasn't any place to go out and eat, though on occasion they would get a pizza from Casey's, because their town had a Casey's. Under the right circumstances a gas station pizza can be just the thing, and they sometimes found themselves in those circumstances.
He made music which was slowly reaching a wider audience. If he played in New York or Chicago as many as a hundred people might show up. He was idly entertaining the idea of becoming ambitious about it: as a child, he'd been pretty pretentious, and although he was working hard to shake most of that off, a little pretension isn't a bad thing in an artist. Just as a seasoning, as a little extra flavor here or there.
One summer he took a job as a harvest help at the Farmers Cooperative Exchange down the street from the very small house where the pipes froze in winter: getting the corn and soybeans into the grain elevator and into a big Morton building where the beans formed giant mountains, which he sometimes had to climb to knock down the peaks. If you don't knock down the peaks the beans get too hot and might rot. The job didn't pay much, and he wasn't good at it, but during slow stretches he would write song lyrics on scraps of paper or in a small notebook, and when he got home from work and washed off the crop dust, he'd set the lyrics to music. "Elijah" was written like this. So was "The Alphonse Mambo."
He took a Greyhound bus to Omaha to record some of the songs, so that the album would have a nice varied feel to it, but he got very sick, which is not an uncommon thing to have happen after a Greyhound ride, and only a few songs came out the way he wanted. He kept those, and then they got married and moved to Ames because the City of Colo had purchased their home from that landlord and intended to knock it down, which they did do, he affirmed years later: and in Ames he put the album together, and then later they moved to North Carolina and a whole lot of other things happened, too, but the main thing is that this album is a document of a time when two young people in love hadn't yet located the spot on the current that would carry them to their destination, twenty-five years later, parents of two beautiful children, worlds away from Colo, the place where, for better or worse, as the saying goes, all this really began.
Dedicated to my wife, Lalitree, and to the City of Colo, Iowa.
This is the original text of the paper bag that housed the first edition of this album. I am leaving it intact rather than revising it. Stage Bidet's moment comes ever closer: let the people tremble in fear.
Elijah, Baboon, Horseradish Road, Onions, and the Alphonse Mambo recorded in Omaha with Simon Joyner, Chris Deden, Lonnie Methe, Brad Smith, John Kotchen, Steve Micek, and Pat Oakes. All of them are owed money and are to be treated with deference and respect. Five of the remaining songs were recorded at Main St. in Colo, which is a small town in Iowa, and the rest were recorded two blocks north of Emma McCarthy Lee Park in Ames, which is a considerably larger town half and hour west of Colo. Though happy circumstances currently have the Mountain Goats claiming Ames, we continue to straight up represent Colo and will put the slap down on anyone who disrespects it. Transfer and levels by Bob Durkee at FBE in Pomona, California, with Joel Huschle attending. As a result of some regrettable but inevitable conversations that took place during the transfer, Bob, Joel, and the Mountain Goats have formed a new, super-powerful punk rock machine called Stage Bidet, and we urge you to watch for us and clear us a wide berth whenever we're in your town. Instead of thanking all the people I always thank to whom I say, collectively and with no less sincerity: thanks. I am just going to spend the time left us here addressing an absent friend. Rozz: I wish you hadn't've gone and killed yourself. Though I hadn't seen or spoken with you in eight years since that night when, as far as I can tell from the reports I was later able to piece together, you tried, not without reason, to strangle the life out of me out there on the landing of Damien's apartment and I probably never would have ever seen you again anyway, it was still hard to hear that you were gone. All your friends had been predicting your death since the early eighties, and no-one could bear the thought of you growing old, but none of that did anything to soften the blow when I heard. I don't really believe that the dead see or hear what we do out here in the realm of corruptible things and I don't imagine that the anyone reads the scribblings on the backs of album jackets to them, either, so I am really only addressing a memory. To that memory I say: I thought of you now and then when I was writing these songs. I don't suppose they'd do much for you, but I thought of you all the same. All your friends miss you in some way, a little or a lot. The rumors about your final hours are dismal and tawdry: I am sure they would please you immensely. For your sake, I hope that the Christians were wrong and that you were right about whether the faithless are destined for eternal torment. In the event that you are a ghost and are wandering the earth moaning and rattling chains, I moved to Iowa from California four or five years ago, stop by any time. Have a seat on the couch until I get home from work. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, or to the whiskey and sake on top of it. Make yourself right at home.
Album cover design by Tom Hart
The Mountain Goats art by Jeffrey Lewis
I relate to this so much. for years, even after I knew that I was trans, I thought that I didn't really experience gender dysphoria. it was only after I started transitioning that I realized how much it had affected me
“No matter how it was collected, where it was collected, when it was collected, our language belongs to us," said Ray Taken Alive, a Lakota teacher.
@mrchicsaraleo @britomartis @el-shab-hussein @paintedwiththecolorsofthewind @stephanemiroux
this is vile
STANDING ROCK INDIAN RESERVATION, S.D. — Ray Taken Alive had been fighting for this moment for two years: At his urging, the Standing Rock Sioux Tribal Council was about to take the rare and severe step of banishing a nonprofit organization from the tribe’s land.
The Lakota Language Consortium had promised to preserve the tribe’s native language and had spent years gathering recordings of elders, including Taken Alive’s grandmother, to create a new, standardized Lakota dictionary and textbooks.
But when Taken Alive, 35, asked for copies, he was shocked to learn that the consortium, run by a white man, had copyrighted the language materials, which were based on generations of Lakota tradition. The traditional knowledge gathered from the tribe was now being sold back to it in the form of textbooks.
Keep reading
I’m reblogging this again because people in the notes are focusing on the wrong things.
This isn’t about books. This is about an organization founded and led by two white men using the work of indigenous peoples to create resources for their endangered languages and then not giving those people access to those resources. It’s about them literally copywriting the words of Elders and other indigenous people and refusing to let their tribes use them.
People are fighting to have access to the recordings that deceased loved ones gave to this organization and being denied because those recordings are copywrited. These men are literally taking aspects of these communities and saying, “these are ours now, no one else can use them, not even the people who shared them with us.”
And it’s not just one or two people who have issues with this. It’s not just one tribe. It’s multiple accounts of this organization and its founders violating the boundaries of both individuals and tribes and taking what wasn’t theirs to take.
This isn’t acceptable under any circumstances.
The Lakota Language Consortium is trying to strip Ray Taken Alive of his teaching license. His hearing is on June 27th and his wife is on the 29th of this year (2024)!
He is a little less than 50% of his $50,000 goal to fund his legal fees if anyone can donate here.
You can also read the complaint and rebuttal on that same page as well as extra background information.
Change a single letter and change the word game
I want to play a game with you all.
You have to make a new word by changing only one letter of the last word.
Dirt
Dark
bark
Lark
Sure
Serf
Self
Seld
Mold
Mole
Hole
Bole
Soup
Soul
Sour
Soul
Foul
Fowl
Bowl
Bawl
Tall
Fall
fail
Soil
Toil
Fool
Food
wood
woad
toad
road
foam
form
port
porn
Torn
corn
core
Lore
I … I need a moment.
I love this actually