Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
noise dept.
Peter Solarz
Stranger Things
Monterey Bay Aquarium
official daine visual archive
Love Begins
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
$LAYYYTER
Keni
if i look back, i am lost
JVL
hello vonnie
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Andulka
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
NASA
⁂
KIROKAZE
seen from Iraq
seen from Russia
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from Vietnam
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Germany
seen from Pakistan
seen from Brazil
seen from India
seen from Philippines
seen from Colombia
seen from Canada
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Belarus
seen from United States
seen from Canada
@keef-whoring
George bush truisms
I THINK WE CAN AGREE THAT THE PAST IS OVER
RARELY IS THE QUESTION ASKED, IS OUR CHILDREN LEARNING?
OUR ENEMIES NEVER STOP THINKING OF NEW WAYS TO HARM OUR COUNTRY AND OUR PEOPLE, AND NEITHER DO WE
YOU TEACH A CHILD TO LEARN, AND HE OR HER WILL BE ABLE TO PASS A LITERACY TEST
A HUMAN BEING AND A FISH CAN COEXIST PEACEFULLY
FOOL ME ONCE, SHAME ON…SHAME ON YOU. FOOL ME… YOU CANT GET FOOLED AGAIN.
DON’T MISUNDERESTIMATE ME
woke up this morning, rolled over, and very confidently tried to blow out my alarm clock like a candle. absolutely no precedent for that.
Ebeneezer in 1742 wakes with a start as for some reason he has put out his guttering candle by slapping atop it ith the palm of his hand. His hand is burned and his nightgown and cap are spattered with hot wax.
Fascinated by the perceived necessity of an Equivalent Exchange
“One day there was an anonymous present sitting on my doorstep—Volume One of Capital by Karl Marx, in a brown paper bag. A joke? Serious? And who had sent it? I never found out. Late that night, naked in bed, I leafed through it. The beginning was impenetrable, I couldn’t understand it, but when I came to the part about the lives of the workers—the coal miners, the child laborers—I could feel myself suddenly breathing more slowly. How angry he was. Page after page. Then I turned back to an earlier section, and I came to a phrase that I’d heard before, a strange, upsetting, sort of ugly phrase: this was the section on “commodity fetishism,” “the fetishism of commodities.” I wanted to understand that weird-sounding phrase, but I could tell that, to understand it, your whole life would probably have to change. His explanation was very elusive. He used the example that people say, “Twenty yards of linen are worth two pounds.” People say that about every thing that it has a certain value. This is worth that. This coat, this sweater, this cup of coffee: each thing worth some quantity of money, or some number of other things—one coat, worth three sweaters, or so much money—as if that coat, suddenly appearing on the earth, contained somewhere inside itself an amount of value, like an inner soul, as if the coat were a fetish, a physical object that contains a living spirit. But what really determines the value of a coat? The coat’s price comes from its history, the history of all the people involved in making it and selling it and all the particular relationships they had. And if we buy the coat, we, too, form relationships with all those people, and yet we hide those relationships from our own awareness by pretending we live in a world where coats have no history but just fall down from heaven with prices marked inside. “I like this coat,” we say, “It’s not expensive,” as if that were a fact about the coat and not the end of a story about all the people who made it and sold it, “I like the pictures in this magazine.”A naked woman leans over a fence. A man buys a magazine and stares at her picture. The destinies of these two are linked. The man has paid the woman to take off her clothes, to lean over the fence. The photograph contains its history—the moment the woman unbuttoned her shirt, how she felt, what the photographer said. The price of the magazine is a code that describes the relationships between all these people—the woman, the man, the publisher, the photographer—who commanded, who obeyed. The cup of coffee contains the history of the peasants who picked the beans, how some of them fainted in the heat of the sun, some were beaten, some were kicked.For two days I could see the fetishism of commodities everywhere around me. It was a strange feeling. Then on the third day I lost it, it was gone, I couldn’t see it anymore.”
—
Wallace Shawn, The Fever
(To understand it, your whole life would probably have to change.)
I saw Wallace Shawn at the end of this quote and thought surely it’s a different Wallace Shawn surely it’s not the fucking dinosaur from Toy Story this can’t be the fucking Sicilian from the Princess Bride but it is. It’s the same fucking guy I just read an explanation of commodity fetishism written by Mr. Incredible’s tiny boss at the insurance company
He’s given talks at a Socialist conference too
a selection of the xy mags i'm getting. i'm so excited, the day they arrive will be the highlight of my year
Has a worm ever gotten struck by lightning
by alexbeckett_
cant tell you how many times ive thought of a song name and the living pool toy has already used it
sometimes a story is about gay sex because there is no gay sex. sometimes a story revolves around the gay sex that is not happening
the ancient and noble art of Hating must remain distinct from the dogmatism of the moral crusade. hating has no greater goal. it is not about engineering change or imposing one's will upon others. to hate is a complete act in and of itself
they should give every weird gay person with a niche media interest $1,000,000,000 and a production company
if i lived in an apartment i would always be banging on the wall yelling “why are you doing this to me” to my neighbor for no reason
