Yearn @caladri - Tumblr Blog

via richardscarrylove

Hey. Why isn’t the moon landing a national holiday in the US. Isn’t that fucked up? Does anyone else think that’s absurd?

alagaisia

It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!

alagaisia

It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.

watermelon-converse

Hey. Hey. Tumblr. Ides of March ppl. We can do this

emi--rose

Hell yeah moon holiday

hello-delicious-tea

Ooh coming up we should celebrate

escuerzoresucitado

inverse-tarot

This is an Inverse Tarot Reading. In an ordinary tarot reading, cards are randomly selected for a particular querent, in the hope they'll be meaningful. This is a particular card shown to randomly selected querents, in the hope that it will be meaningful to one of them.

Autumn of Talons: The Northern Shrike (Lanius borealis)

Northern Shrikes are grey and white songbirds. Like other songbirds, they are small and melodious and lack talons, but unlike other songbirds they are fierce predators. They sit in high places and watch for birds and mice. They skulk through brush. They ambush. They lure other birds by imitating their songs, and they kill birds larger than themselves by driving them into the ground. Because they lack talons to tear open prey, they impale it on thorns or barbed wire instead.

The world will tell you, perhaps, that you are small and melodious. The world will tell you that you do not have talons. The world will tell you that everyone has a proper place and a proper destiny. The Northern Shrike tells you: fuck that.

#choose violence

inverse-tarot

This is a Reverse Tarot Reading. In an ordinary tarot reading, cards are randomly selected for a particular querent, in the hope they'll be meaningful. This is a particular card shown to randomly selected querents, in the hope that it will be meaningful to one of them.

Three of Songs: The Great-Tailed Grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus)

Great-Tailed Grackles are medium-sized iridescent black birds with long tails. Both sexes sing. Their songs are strange and unmusical; they sound like electronic buzzers, rusty hinges, squeaky balloons, and hissing cats. But in the dense brushy habitats where they nest, delicate melodic songs would be distorted and absorbed. A grackle's song has evolved to carry across harsh terrain.

This card is about your Art. This card does not say which Art yours is, only that you contain strange and wonderful things, and sometimes you pull those things through the portal of your breath and bone and into the outside world to share.

They tell you, perhaps, that your Art is strange, harsh, unmusical. The Great-Tailed Grackle tells you: your Art is a song that carries itself to places no other music can reach, and speaks to those who have never heard music before.

me, to my faceblind partner: you post about movies where being faceblind would be extremely plot-relevant partner: "oh no this guy wants to kill me because I never said hello despite seeing him every day, but I never even realized it was the same guy" me: "I quite enjoyed The Usual Suspects but I don't understand the twist everyone was talking about at the end" partner: no, the subtitles give away the twist at the end of The Usual Suspects

#faceblindness

doctordisaster

I have had it with this likescolding. “Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm so likes don’t actually do anything” motherfucker I am not clicking that heart to give some post better ~algorithmic visibility~ I am clicking that heart to help my internet friend microdose on serotonin as god fucking intended

en-futubandera

patricida

Coelacanth plushie btw. if you even care

magdaliny-deactivated20191030

“In college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.”

— Nicholas Rombes, The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)

donttouchmyasymptote

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

(Aaron Freeman, “Planning Ahead Can Make A Difference In The End”)

Made myself utilitarian, heavy-duty hakama for yardwork and hiking, but they clean up alright for a cold day in the city!

#selfists

minouminouminou

Geopolitics.

idziemy-na-skraj-deactivated202

anxietyproblem

intactics-deactivated20211231

grimdr

少年不識愁滋味，愛上層樓，愛上層樓; 為赋新詞強說愁。而今識盡愁滋味，欲說還休，欲說還休; 卻道天凉好個秋。

In youth I knew nothing of the taste of sorrow I liked to climb high towers, I liked to climb high towers To conjure up a bit of sorrow to make new verse.

Now I know only too well the taste of sorrow. I begin to speak yet pause, I begin to speak yet pause And say instead, “My, what a cool and lovely autumn.”

Xin Qiji 辛棄疾 (1140-1207); the translation appears to be by Eileen Chengyin Chow, posted on her Instagram