No title available
AnasAbdin
Kaledo Art
Not today Justin
RMH
cherry valley forever
JBB: An Artblog!
pixel skylines
🪼
No title available
Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
DEAR READER
Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
Monterey Bay Aquarium
YOU ARE THE REASON
⁂
$LAYYYTER
izzy's playlists!
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Kenya
seen from Bangladesh
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Yemen
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Canada
@apocalypsolollipop
The Box of Sorrows
With all my sadness spent
I built a ten feet cubic box
of finest crisp papier machée
around it a cage of finest clay
then came brick and stone
tears, blood, flesh and bone
hard concrete, steel and lead
tight chains forged by regret
bound by eternal magic spells
In the box I tossed all in again
hopes, wishes, desires, pain
put fire on the wretched box
so that not even ash remains
What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless
FOOD
Find your nearest food bank or mission, for food
grocery stores with free samples, bakeries + stores with day-old bread
different fast food outlets have cheaper food and will generally let you hang out for a while.
some dollar stores carry food like cans of beans or fruit
SHELTER
Sleeping at beaches during the day is a good way to avoid suspicion and harassment
sleep with your bag strapped to you, so someone can’t steal it
Some churches offer short term residence
Find your nearest homeless shelter
Look for places that are open to the public
A large dumpster near a wall can often be moved so that flipping up the lids creates an angled shelter to stay dry
HYGIENE
A membership to the YMCA is usually only 10$, which has a shower, and sometimes laundry machines and lockers.
Public libraries have bathrooms you can use
Dollar stores carry low-end soaps and deodorant etc.
Wet wipes are all purpose and a life saver
Local beaches, go for a quick swim
Some truck stops have showers you can pay for
Staying clean is the best way to prevent disease, and potentially get a job to get back on your feet
Pack 7 pairs of socks/undies, 2 outfits, and one hooded rain jacket
OTHER
first aid kit
sunscreen
a travel alarm clock or watch
mylar emergency blanket
a backpack is a must
downgrade your cellphone to a pay as you go with top-up cards
sleeping bag
travel kit of toothbrush, hair brush/comb, mirror
swiss army knife
can opener
Reblog to literally save a life
if there is a Dollar Tree near you, they have entire food aisles
Planet Fitness also has $10 memberships. you can shower and they have free food days! pizza night 1st monday every month, bagel tuesday the 2nd tuesday every month.
Save a life reblog
i am so glad that i renblogged this however so long ago. i saw this post and shared it with others in mind, but now i am the one who really needs this. id like to think of this as good karma i guess
also a good list if anyone ever needs to run away from home for whatever reason.
Check this one out!
Publishing original weird flash fiction four times a year!
Support your indie and nb and trans authors! 60 flash fiction tales from writers from all over the world.
I feel I see I do I grow
by me
White chalk and gel pen, coal on black cardboard
All witches unite.
Tonight we fly.
Swords drawn.
Listen and lift up.
being abused or neglected really makes it clear how many things are skills that nobody really treats as. skills. exercising autonomy is a skill. listening to your body is a skill. resting is a skill. being liked and being loved are skills. nobody tells you how to do this shit because nobody even told me I was supposed to have learnt these things when I was a kid. I kind of just have to manually figure out what makes me freak out and work from there. unfair as shit
I feel I see I do I grow
by me
White chalk and gel pen, coal on black cardboard
Revelation by malamila
Electron microscope video of a needle on a vinyl record.
H O W
like you can tell me all you want how the sound is stored in the grooves but fucking H O W
HOW DOES THAT GET INTO THE NEEDLE
HOW ARE THE VIBRATIONS TURNED INTO MUSIC THAT YOU CAN HEAR???
H O W
The vibrations aren’t “turned into” music, they are music. When vibrations occur inside your inner ear, your brain processes this as sound.
The grooves in a record are an analogy for these vibrations, a method of remembering them so that they can be recreated later on.
Put your hand on a speaker while loud music is playing and you’ll feel the vibrations. Those are exactly the same vibrations happening inside your ear when you hear the music.
But how do you capture that?
Take a surface that vibrates strongly when a sound is played, like the skin of a drumhead for example. Connect that surface to a little tool - when sound causes the surface to vibrate, the tool digs a little bit into some wax, leaving behind a pattern that matches - in proportion - the vibrations of the surface caused by the sound. This is your analogy (hence: analog music).
Now, when there’s no sound playing, you run that little tool back over the pattern. This causes the skin to vibrate again, this time in response to the tool running over the pattern instead of because of an external sound. The vibrations should match, proportionally, the original vibrations of the music.. and thus these new vibrations, if you were to amplify them, would be a recreation or “recording” of the original music.
That’s oversimplified of course and things have changed a lot since the days of wax, but that is very basically how the process of recording music worked at first, and the general idea of how sound gets from a groove in a record into your brain.
(reblogging for Disparition commentary)
Thank you Science side of tumblr
I hugely appreciate people taking to the time explain stuff like this, as it helps put an end to the “wow, science is magic!” trope that’s become far too common.
I actually got to do this in a music class in college. we basically made a rudimentary gramophone using a pin for a needle, connecting it to string and that string piercing a paper horn. Had something spinning the record against the pin and out came the music. Granted it came out extremely distorted and at a low volume, but it really was that simple.
Its wild.
Publishing original weird flash fiction four times a year!
Support your indie and nb and trans authors! 60 flash fiction tales from writers from all over the world.
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
I reblogged this once with the first story. Now the story has grown and I’m crying. This is gorgeous, guys. This is what dreams are made of.
This is amazing!
What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless
FOOD
Find your nearest food bank or mission, for food
grocery stores with free samples, bakeries + stores with day-old bread
different fast food outlets have cheaper food and will generally let you hang out for a while.
some dollar stores carry food like cans of beans or fruit
SHELTER
Sleeping at beaches during the day is a good way to avoid suspicion and harassment
sleep with your bag strapped to you, so someone can’t steal it
Some churches offer short term residence
Find your nearest homeless shelter
Look for places that are open to the public
A large dumpster near a wall can often be moved so that flipping up the lids creates an angled shelter to stay dry
HYGIENE
A membership to the YMCA is usually only 10$, which has a shower, and sometimes laundry machines and lockers.
Public libraries have bathrooms you can use
Dollar stores carry low-end soaps and deodorant etc.
Wet wipes are all purpose and a life saver
Local beaches, go for a quick swim
Some truck stops have showers you can pay for
Staying clean is the best way to prevent disease, and potentially get a job to get back on your feet
Pack 7 pairs of socks/undies, 2 outfits, and one hooded rain jacket
OTHER
first aid kit
sunscreen
a travel alarm clock or watch
mylar emergency blanket
a backpack is a must
downgrade your cellphone to a pay as you go with top-up cards
sleeping bag
travel kit of toothbrush, hair brush/comb, mirror
swiss army knife
can opener
Reblog to literally save a life
if there is a Dollar Tree near you, they have entire food aisles
Planet Fitness also has $10 memberships. you can shower and they have free food days! pizza night 1st monday every month, bagel tuesday the 2nd tuesday every month.
Save a life reblog
i am so glad that i renblogged this however so long ago. i saw this post and shared it with others in mind, but now i am the one who really needs this. id like to think of this as good karma i guess
also a good list if anyone ever needs to run away from home for whatever reason.
Reading a book about slavery in the middle-ages, and as the author sorts through different source materials from different eras, I am starting to understand why so many completely fantastical accounts of "faraway lands" went without as much as a shrug. The world is such a weird place that you can either refuse to believe any of it or just go "yeah that might as well happen" and carry on with your day.
There was this 10th century arab traveller who wrote into an account that the fine trade furs come from a land where the night only lasts one hour in the summer and the sun doesn't rise at all in the winter, people use dogs to travel, and where children have white hair. I don't think I'd believe something like that either if I didn't live here.
If you only knew
I fear that you do
I fear I will hurt you
hence I’m hiding from you
I want to to be near
I hold you so dear
I root for you always
delight you with my cheers
alone in the darkness
just you and my tears
