he won’t bite, he's just playing 😌
oops
$LAYYYTER
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
will byers stan first human second

oozey mess

Origami Around
🪼
Game of Thrones Daily

Love Begins
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document

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occasionally subtle

izzy's playlists!

Kiana Khansmith
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we're not kids anymore.

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bliss lane

seen from Nepal
seen from Jamaica
seen from United States

seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United States
seen from France

seen from Denmark

seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Denmark
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seen from Türkiye
@leavingsofthewolf
he won’t bite, he's just playing 😌
oops
Performance art is good and listening to people who don't understand art talk about performance art is a unique type of torture.
Which is probably a thought that could be the core of a pretty fun, masturbatory piece of performance art.
Oh. Oh actually. Actually.
Okay, so the name of the piece is "It's what you make of it" and you have a setup that's a cross between a zoltar fortune-teller machine and a crank penny press. The room the piece is performed in has a warning about recording the performance and cautions the viewer to only interact with the piece of they consent to being recorded and photographed.
The artist is in the box, made up as a marionette and the viewer can use pulleys and switches to position the artist's limbs and to change the background and lighting of the box and can type a short prompt for the artist to repeat and act out verbatim.
The viewer has to drop a token (provided as part of the piece) into a coin slot and work a crank to complete the prompt. While the artist is acting out the prompt, the prompt is printed on a photo strip that includes a picture of the prompter (taken by a hidden webcam on the booth). One copy of the prompt and photo is spit out along with the cranked token (which has the phrase "it's what you make of it" and an image of a clown pressed into it) for the viewer to keep, one copy of the prompt and photo is spit out inside the booth where the artist can collect it after completing the prompt.
What the artist is going to do with the photo strip is not explained, the artist doesn't speak or move except as a response to a prompt.
People will prompt the artist to say "this is stupid." People will prompt the artist say explicit phrases, or to swear incessantly. People will prompt the artist to say slurs.
And they will walk away with their prompt attributed to them with their photo and a coin they used their energy to mint into a reminder that the art is what they made of it. And their creation is documented in the hands of the artist as well. What did they put into the world? What did they decide to say when they had a chance to say anything? What were they comfortable saying before they realized that someone would quote them on it? What did they make of it, and how would they feel if their photo was attached to their prompt in a book or video or somewhere that people might see it?
How did they approach the piece? How would they approach it a second time?
Also the artist goes hog fucking wild on the prompts. They're acted out *loudly* and melodramatically with as much emotion as the artist can put into the performance.
And whenever the machine is not in motion the artist is still and vacant, but the performance of the prompt involves as much eye contact and emoting as possible.
The piece is dead and meaningless until you approach it, and as soon as you start interacting with it it should become disconcertingly alive with your intention.
I watched the live action version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" on Youtube and I was not ready for the utter lack of emotions from the CGI animals.
Nala looking concerned about Simba hiding something about his past, a comparison:
Also, in CGI this song called "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" does not take place at night.
Also people being obsessed with Greek mythology as kids wasn’t invented by Percy Jackson. My dad read the Iliad and the odyssey in high school because one of his friends was super obsessed with Ancient Greek lit and he was like “well I can’t let him be smarter and more well read than I am I’ve gotta catch up”
Moment of silence for all the centuries of Greek mythology enjoyers who didn’t have online databases of fragments and different translations and had to physically hunt down the texts at libraries.
Also shoutout to Princess Anna Comnena one of the first known woman historians for sneaking into the archives at night to read the epics because her family thought they weren’t appropriate for women. Dedication.
When I was at the movie theatre they were advertising a romcom where the premise was that unmarried people are only legally allowed to have sex once a year and that one, that one made me put my head in my hands.
It’s called One Night Only, it’s a real movie, and yes it’s very heterosexual looking.
That’s like, idk. A premise for a fanfiction porn intro written by a fifteen year old.
Ty Beanie Babies: Batty the Bat (1995)
always some new bullshit in the ocean
Why is it always orcas or dolphins
Why can't a salmon do some bullshit for once
worry not ☝️ they're doing coke
@tunathena
There’s an emotion only unlocked when you live in a house with multiple stories. I call it “the stair emotion” and it’s when you realize the object you need is on the other side of yet another trip up and down those goddamn stairs. It’s the closest I get to transcending the desire for material goods. Maybe I don’t need that notebook. Maybe I don’t need anything.
fuck this. im gonna drive my chevy to the levee
by talos this cant be happening
well at least them good old boys are staying sober
what the fuck
is this gonna get me fired you think
one thing about me is i’m gonna go lay down
that is the face of a man worried he will be next
Good news, he was not next! In fact, she accepted him as her mate, he learned the crane mating dance and now every year, he artificially inseminates her with crane semen to expand the very endangered crane population. True story.
Sorry, he WHAT? Imagine being this man's boss and having to sit him down like. Listen. Brian. We need you to fuck the bird. You have to act like you're excited about it.
crane husband.....
this is the diametric opposite of all those awful swan wife stories and i love it.
(WalWaPo makes you jump through like three separate hoops before you can read the article, so I will share some of the highlights:
Walnut was born in a species-recovery breeding program in the 1980′s. The program had crane chicks hand-raised by human volunteers, and at that time they did not fully understand the measures necessary make sure that the chicks do not imprint on humans and retain their identity as cranes.
As a result, her keepers believe, Walnut does not recognize other cranes as members of her own species.
It has not been proven that Walnut killed her previous suitors; however, there is a persistent rumor in the white-naped-crane-conservation community that she did.
Because this species is highly endangered, and the gene pool of the captive population is small, it’s pretty important for the survival of her species that Walnut A) mate, and B) not kill a bunch of other cranes.
The actual name of the keeper is Chris Crowe.
They both arrived at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute in 2004.
Walnut immediately began paying special attention to Chris--and ignoring the eligible male crane in a nearby enclosure.
Walnut initiated their courtship, performing the opening moves of a mating dance.
Chris realized that if he reciprocated the mating dance, it might be possible to artificially inseminate Walnut with her participation and consent. (The process normally involves restraining the bird.)
It worked!
Chris and Walnut have had five children, who were raised by other crane couples at the facility--sometimes the biological dad and his mate--both because it’s unclear whether Walnut would accept the chicks as her own, and because Chris is not equipped to be a Crane Dad.
However, the Institute provides her with artificial eggs to sit on, and Chris takes his turn looking after them. (This would not work with real eggs because he can’t sit on them properly, but Walnut seems to feel that he is on the job if he just stands over them.)
Chris accepts that he is pretty much married to this bird. White-naped cranes live to be about 60, and they mate for life, so he knows he can’t retire while Walnut is alive. (At the time of the article, Walnut was 36, and Chris 42.)
Legit cannot pick the funniest part of this
she has not been PROVEN to have killed her exes, but there is a PERSISTENT RUMOR (really officers she's simply DEVASTATED, she sobs, wearing a new feather boa unfortunately resembling her most recent deceased husband)
His name is Chris CROWE. (Mrs. Walnut Crane-Crowe?)
the mental images of a whole human man learning and performing the crane mating dance, and "sitting" on artificial eggs so she thinks he's performing his duties as a husband and father (and apparently OBJECTS if he does not?)
"chris, buddy, you gotta marry the possibly-murderous crane lady for the GOOD OF THE SPECIES." (alternately: "chris, my man! good news! we found you a very interested lady! She's 36, she's very spirited and independent, she holds a very important and rare status in her society! ...Is there a downside? WELL...")
chris sits any potential human partners down, like "my love, you must understand before we wed,,, i am already... Attached" (camera drifts wistfully to the above photo) "Lady Walnut and I have an,, Understanding... the relationship is open, but very committed"
just had to explain this post to my father bc he thought my stifled laughter was a signal of illness.
well done, everyone, good game. hit the showers.
Not only is he 'married' to walnut, this has apparently happened SEVERAL times, so he has MULTIPLE crane wives, none of which know about any of his other crane wives. This man is, for some unknown reason, irresistible to cranes
the “this content has been removed for violating Tumblr’s Community Guidelines” notice really adds a lot of flavor to this post and somehow makes it MORE obscene than whatever that actually was
World Heritage Post
I regret being the bearer of bad news, but I thought it should be shared that Walnut passed away in January of this year (2024). There's a lot of mixed info about the lifespan of cranes (due to people misunderstanding what a median is...) but the average for most species I know of is 20-30 years (in the wild if nothing eats them/they don't die young), and 30-45 in captivity, with the oldest known white-naped crane having loved to be 46. Given that she was 42, this old gal did good, and I'm certain she will be missed by folks here.
Fly on forever Walnut Crane-Crowe
Basically what I'm getting from the present "giving 100% at work" Tumblr discourse is that a lot of people have fairly narrow notions of what blue-collar versus white-collar jobs actually entail. There are in fact manual labour jobs where a significant chunk of your average work day consists of Fucking Around, and conversely, there are desk jobs where you crunch eighty-hour weeks for years on end until you suddenly drop dead from heart failure at age 32. It's absolutely true that you're more likely to end up in a No Fucking Around Allowed situation in a blue-collar occupation, but you can't tell whether or not someone is in that position based purely on whether or not they work in an office. Shit, call centre workers are white collar on paper, and the kind of fuckery a lot of call centre workers are subjected to involves genuine human rights violations.
MY STUPID FUCKING CAT WONT STOP TRYING TO TOUCH THE BEEHIVE
ai could simply never create a body of fanfictional work that is so revealing about the author that it borders on humiliating.
Jimoteè Chamameé
Who wants a Jimothy tattoo 🤣
Ohhhh caesar zeppeli you done this again to my wine glasses