the-long-journey @envee-vow - Tumblr Blog

In my humble opinion those interested in writing anything about eridians should study up on andy weir’s eridian lore document that is available publicly and for free to download there is so much fucking interesting stuff there. If you are writing a fic and you have a question about an Eridian function or if something was brought up in the book/movie then consult this. I know for a fact when i start writing a fic i have been thinking of that i will be taking notes on all of this

heavensghost

wood engraving today

kafk-a

link to pdf

can-i-make-image-descriptions

[Image IDs: Image #1: Book cover reading: A Field Guide to Roadside Wildflowers At Full Speed

Very blurry picture of wildflowers and grass.

Chris Helzer

The Prairie Ecologist PrarieEcologist.com

Image #2: Text reading: A Field Guide to Roadside Wildflowers At Full Speed

Introduction We all know the best opportunities to see wildflowers come while on the road. Whether along an interstate highway or a remote country road, flowers of all colors and shapes are there to add beauty to our trip. Unfortunately, most wildflower field guides are nearly useless for roadside flower viewing, written for the eccentric botanical enthusiast who wanders slowly through prairies, stooping low to determine whether the sepals of a flower or hispid or hirsute.

This book is written for the silent majority of people who have important places to go, but want to enjoy and learn about nature as they travel. What good is field guide that relies upon the characteristics of tiny hairs or even minute differences in leaf or petal shape when a flower is seen from a car traveling 70 miles per hour? The world desperately needs a guide that illustrates and identifies characteristics of wildflowers as most people actually experience them. This is that guide. /End IDs]

targetedknowledge

madeofklay

I just had to draw them

alexaloraetheris

Face of a little guy who didn't think he was the problem either😂😂😂

the-haiku-bot

Face of a little

guy who didn’t think he was

the problem either😂😂😂

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

rozzed

why not have the reader re-read a sentence now and then? it won't hurt him....

sparrowlucero

all bark no bite

(available on my kofi as adoptables!)

cithaerons

Leila Chatti, Night Lament in Hergla

11990904

why isn’t anyone allowed to be wrong anymore? it’s okay to be wrong. being wrong, and realizing you were wrong, is how you learn and grow.

firstfullmoon

hi!! if you could only read 10 poems again, which would those poems be? I just went through all of my collected poetry and created a top 10 list of poems that mean the most to me, and i thought it was a really fun and challenging exercise! i'm curious if we have any poems in common <3

OUGH. okay hardest question ever. keeping in mind those would be the only 10 poems I could ever read, I picked ones that are seminal to me & my relationship with poetry

“The Same City” by Terrance Hayes

“Magdalene—The Seven Devils” by Marie Howe

“October” by Louise Glück

“Having a Coke with You” by Frank O’Hara

“Intifada Incantation: Poem #8 for b.b.L.” by June Jordan

“[I aborted two daughters]” by Diane Seuss

“Snow and Dirty Rain” by Richard Siken

“Late Poem to My Father” by Sharon Olds

“The Colonel” by Carolyn Forché

“Turtle, Swan” by Mark Doty

letterful

In Orwell’s essay “A Hanging,” the writer watches the condemned man, walking toward the gallows, swerve to avoid a puddle. For Orwell, this represents precisely what he calls the “mystery” of the life that is about to be taken: when there is no good reason for it, the condemned man is still thinking about keeping his shoes clean. It is an “irrelevant” act (and a marvelous bit of noticing on Orwell’s part). Now suppose this were not an essay but a piece of fiction. And indeed there has been a fair amount of speculation about the proportion of fact to fiction in such essays of Orwell’s.

The avoidance of the puddle would be precisely the kind of superb detail that, say, Tolstoy might flourish; War and Peace has an execution scene very close in spirit to Orwell’s essay, and it may well be that Orwell basically cribbed the detail from Tolstoy. In War and Peace, Pierre witnesses a man being executed by the French, and notices that, just before death, the man adjusts the blindfold at the back of his head, because it is uncomfortably tight. The avoidance of the puddle, the fiddling with the blindfold—these are what might be called irrelevant or superfluous details. They are not explicable; in fiction, they exist to denote precisely the inexplicable. This is one of the “effects” of realism, of “realistic” style.

But Orwell’s essay, assuming it records an actual occurrence, shows us that such fictional effects are not merely conventionally irrelevant, or formally arbitrary, but have something to tell us about the irrelevance of reality itself (…) There was no logical reason for the condemned man to avoid the puddle. It was pure remembered habit. Life, then, will always contain an inevitable surplus, a margin of the gratuitous, a realm in which there is always more than we need: more things, more impressions, more memories, more habits, more words, more happiness, more unhappiness.

— JAMES WOOD, from How Fiction Works.

letterful

What exactly do these irrational standards mean? They mean the supremacy of the detail over the general, of the part that is more alive than the whole, of the little thing which a man observes and greets with a friendly nod of the spirit while the crowd around him is being driven by some common impulse to some common goal. I take my hat off to the hero who dashes into a burning house and saves his neighbor’s child; but I shake his hand if he has risked squandering a precious five seconds to find and save, together with the child, its favorite toy. I remember a cartoon depicting a chimney sweep falling from the roof of a tall building and noticing on the way that a sign-board had one word spelled wrong, and wondering in his headlong flight why nobody had thought of correcting it. In a sense, we all are crashing to our death from the top story of our birth to the flat stones of the churchyard and wondering with an immortal Alice in Wonderland at the patterns of the passing wall. This capacity to wonder at trifles — no matter the imminent peril — these asides of the spirit, these footnotes in the volume of life are the highest forms of consciousness, and it is in this childishly speculative state of mind, so different from commonsense and its logic, that we know the world to be good.

— VLADIMIR NABOKOV, from Lectures on Literature.