The New York Times did a piece titled 100 Small Acts of Love and these are some of my favorites 💕

Origami Around
Not today Justin
todays bird

titsay
KIROKAZE

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★

Janaina Medeiros
almost home
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Stranger Things
Keni

Andulka
Three Goblin Art
Peter Solarz
🪼
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Mike Driver
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Jules of Nature

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@farawaywandering
The New York Times did a piece titled 100 Small Acts of Love and these are some of my favorites 💕
made me think of this
[id: x/twitter qrt from user styloshka that says "I read a forum post about art once, that it's a product of the dialectic between the effort of the artist and the friction of the medium. You push on the thing and the thing pushes back on you, it has its own voice. The weight of a piano key, the tension of a guitar string." original post from user colleen_daves says "Don't you want to skip over the mindless drudgery that is making art?" I do six stand embroidery and break like 10 needles a day, would I prefer that activity didn't hurt my hands and make me angry? Sure. But that's what makes having the finished piece after so worth it to me."]
link
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely loved when I got assigned a solo and would dance it over and over as much for pleasure as for the quest for perfection, but I loved the rest of it too.
I loved the slow methodical mediation of the stretches before class. I loved the quiet discipline of the barre exercises, the endless repetition, the feel of me shaping my body into the same forms, closer ever closer to correct.
Most of the others didn't rush onto the floor the moment it cleared to stretch alone.
Most of the others complained endlessly about barre. For me it was part of it. All of it was dancing and I loved dancing in every fiber of my being, pushing ever pushing at the boundaries of what my body can do.
It was never boring to me, not even the most mundane, repetitious parts. I gave no fucks for those few performances in front of the audience; I was dancing for me and that included doing feet positions over and over at the barre. It was doing the thing that mattered and I loved every second of it.
I was the same way with the assorted marital arts styles I studied over the years until my body gave out. The spars are the glamourous bits, but I loved the drills too, repeating, repeating, repeating.
I was the same way with candle wicking and needlepoint, my fingers reading canvas. My fingers mindlessly going in and out or doing the knots over and over.
It is possible to love every part of the thing, the colours unrealing on canvas, the patterns on linen, the repetition of form of drill of motion. Effort and beauty and sweat forever tangled together.
This is what Annie Dilliard said
A well-known writer got collared by a university student who asked, ”Do you think I could be a writer?”
”Well,” the writer said, ”I don’t know. . . . Do you like sentences?”
The writer could see the student’s amazement. Sentences? Do I like sentences? I am 20 years old and do I like sentences? If he had liked sentences, of course, he could begin, like a joyful painter I knew. I asked him how he came to be a painter. He said, ”I liked the smell of the paint.”
My favorite bookstore ever was in Salem, MA and looked like this:
Extremely fucking precarious setup. Afraid to brush against anything. But if you went to the counter and asked for something, the guy there not only somehow knew where to find it, he could yank a book out of any given teetering stack without disturbing the rest.
^ i went to this bookstore once in college, and then years later visited salem again and tried to find it, only to discover, in its place, a very neat and organized conventional bookstore with everything on shelves. i asked one the employees what happened that it underwent such a radical shift and they said, the mold,
thoughts on Katy Perry/Justin Trudeau?
It genuinely doesn't even compute. It gives me a feeling of unreality. Lots of things nowadays make me feel like "we can't be living in the real world, this can't be happening" but this is by far the most lowest stakes thing that makes me feel that way
Sorry to those of you who found out this way
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This is a comment someone appended to a photo of two men apparently having sex in a very fancy room, but it’s also kind of an amazing two-line poem? “His Wife has filled his house with chintz” is a really elegant and beautiful counterbalancing of h, f, and s sounds, and “chintz” is a perfect word choice here—sonically pleasing and good at evoking nouveau riche tackiness. And then “to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” collapses that whole mood with short percussive sounds—but it’s still a perfect iambic pentameter line, robust and a lovely obscene contrast with the chintz in the first line. Well done, tumblr user jjbang8
I hate that my aesthetic sense agrees with this but everything you just said was correct
I went back to dig up this post because I was thinking about poetry.
This is one of those non-poem things that are among my favorite poems.
As the OP stated, the use of alliterative consonants is aesthetically just great, especially the placement of the strongest use at the end: “fuck him on the floor.” The use of “chintz” is indeed great word choice.
Because I’m insane, decided to scan the poem:
Not only is the second sentence, indeed, perfect iambic pentameter, the entire poem is perfectly metered, though the first sentence has four iambs rather than five.
There are further things I love about this poem, though: I like the casual connotations of “keep it real” juxtaposed with “chintz.” It causes me to interpret the “chintz” more strongly as meaning something fake, a facade. There is also of course the coarseness of “fuck,” which is a contrast with “chintz” but a different kind of contrast, gutsy and carnal where “chintz” is flimsy and inanimate.
And then there is the storytelling: there is SO MUCH storytelling in just these two lines. To break it down: The speaker is having sex with a married man, in the house he shares with his wife, which is “filled with chintz”—something that here connotes fakeness, in contrast with “keep it real.”
The illicit encounter in the poem takes place within a house filled with facade, the flimsy construction of the wife’s marriage and domestic sphere, but the encounter itself is a taste of something “real.” That’s a story, and it’s just two lines.
This is EIGHTEEN SYLLABLES, y’all. The amount of meaning condensed into these eighteen syllables is stunning, and it is so elegantly done.
From a technical standpoint (and ive taken 300- and 400-level poetry classes so I can say this) this is damn near flawless as a poem.
Kept thinking about this ever since I saw it and had to do something
there's art now
Ah dang to go further; the floor is framed as a refuge. As if there is literally no other space in this house that hasn't been populated by his wife with flimsy inanimate fakery. There is no space for this man in this house save for the floor. There is no space for him on the sofa, oon the counter tops, and most notably, no space for him in the marital bed.
I’d also like to point out the use of the word “has.” The wife has filled the house with chintz. She isn’t filling the house with chintz. She doesn’t fill the house with chintz. She has filled the house with chintz. Use of the past-tense makes the wife a subtly removed element in the story, someone whose presence we see in the environment, but who is blissfully distant during the actors throes of passion. There is an element of physical as well as emotional separation from the wife that is catalyzed by being fucked on the floor. Use of the past tense is an end to the wife presence in the actors life, a carnal catharsis amid cold fragility and emotional distance.
This is my new favourite post in the world
everyone cheer for the one (1) time tumblr had reading comprehension
professors who have only interacted with other academics for years: “what do you MEAN you don’t know multi-variable calculus yet??”
professors with small kids: “thank you for not putting the lab equipment in your mouths when I turn my back”
Bringing this back to share that one time I slept through part of a zoom meeting with my PhD advisor (who has a toddler) and he told me it was fine, that just meant I was a good sleeper
Professors who work with graduate students: if you finish the multivariate calculus work this week you can put one (1) piece of lab equipment in your mouth
Once had a professor whose previous career was giving educational zoo tours to children, so he’d say stuff like, “now let’s meet our friend, acidic keratin!”
in high school I was in the child development class where we ran the preschool. Class ended and I moved onto the next class, an art class. Sit down next to my friend who was working on a serious piece and casually asked for my thoughts on it, looking for serious critique.
Preschool mode had not turned off so I looked at it, clapped my hands and said “WOW Really great work! Amazing!”, in that same kind of voice you’d say to a toddler who presented you with a random scribble on a piece of paper.
Friend loved the reaction at least lmao.
hey i saw these tags and i think i’m about to kiss you on the mouth rn
being alive is great because there are so many different vegetables you can sauté. but then there are also the horrors
with faith and perseverance, one day we will sauté the horrors
i love this website
reblog to sauté the horrors
word of honor is a comfort show specifically for scenes like when Cheng Ling the accidently adopted child of two mass murderers gets kidnapped by Soft Butch Assassin and her girlfriend High Femme Assassin for a piece of the glazed donut when Zhou Zi Shu shows up like "UNHAND MY CHILD!!" And CL is all "omg I'm your son 🥺🥺" and ZZS is like "I suddenly can't read I don't know mariah carey.gif" meanwhile our lesbian assassins are like "god people have no respect for torture time anymore" and they all have a swirly twirly fight b/c everyone is dressed to the NINES b/c if you're gonna be a murderer in a wuxia show you are also gonna look PEAK FABULOUS thank you very fucking much and then ZZS is like "oh no my nipple nails of cancer are acting up" and whenever his nipples are aching who shows up but Wen Ke Xing busting through the door like the koolaid man with the energy of a queen lip syncing for her life on Rupaul all "HOW DARE YOU HARM MY HUSBAND AND OUR CHILD" and ZZS is like "he's not our child!!" and another swirly twirly fight happens and the lesbians dip so our marital arts family chases them outside only to be confronted by ZOMBIES or crackheads whichever and WKX is like "husband, take our child and run" and ZZS is obviously not gonna do that cause like both a feral cat & a millennial he's always Down to Fight and also lacks general self-preservation so WKX is like "dying alongside you is also a beautiful way to die" meanwhile CL in the back wondering if they could all just not die like he didn't stick a piece of the glazed donut in his stomach and hang out with his boring, beige, busted uncles for 2 weeks just get eaten train to busan style the fuck
and then Scorpion King (not the rock) floats down from the sky in slow mo like a Jrock act floating down onto the stage playing his little guitar like "HELLOOOOOOOO ANCIENT CHINA!! HOW WE FEELING TONIGHT?" and ZZS is like "not a fucking band kid" so he throws smoke bombs naruto style and they all dip
and in the end of all~~~ of this CL is like "so I'm your son right?" and ZZS is like, "fuck it, fine" and signs the adoption papers while wwx is like planning an autumn wedding
how do manatees even survive as a species if they're way too peaceful. somehow nothing wants to eat them. not gators or sharks or whales
it's quite simple, they're their ecosystem's version of a megafauna grazing mammal! they're simply too large for most predators to bother. they are, in fact, fucking huge.
see, manatees don't actually live out in the open ocean. they live in rivers, estuaries, and shallow seagrass bays like this:
so the thing is, large macropredator sharks and superpredators like killer whales don't go here! they stay out in open deep water, so they never really cross paths with manatees in the first place.
there ARE sharks here, but they're small! adult manatees are completely out of their prey size range, and they're more interested in fish anyway.
alligators do live here also, but even a very large alligator can't really dream of preying on an adult manatee! again, they're simply too big.
so, yeah. this is just another case of "this mammal is able to get away with being a gentle giant by simply growing too large for any predator in its area to touch" and I think that's beautiful.
Just the complete opposite of satisfying anime food.
the problem with having a decade old tumblr blog is that there are posts on it from a decade ago
i’ve become a completely different person like 5 separate times since making those posts and there are STILL people finding them somehow
Happy birdie
(via)
Misty lake
You ever have a random thought that's not intrusive, but somehow simultaneously so instinctive and so detached from your regular everyday life, that you vaguely figure it was probably just an ancestral spirit possessing you for a second?
I was baking an apple pie for fun, freehanding cardamom by vibes alone. And a thought pops into my head, must not be wasteful with them, spices are expensive. And I had to halt right there for a second. Why would I feel financial guilt about the amount of seasoning in homemade goods, when I spend money on far more frivolous shit every single day? My own weight in cinnamon would cost less than my rent.
Thank you for your concern, Maarit from the 1600s, but trust me, we're good. I can measure this cardamom with my heart and not the scale.