I wonder if we'll ever see a movie monster as artistically fresh as the xenomorph was. Even decades later, every other pop cultire monster still feels derivative of earthly biology, with a natural looking exoskeleton or meaty flesh.
Giger's biomechanical aesthetic managed to make even this humanoid entity look completely foreign to our world. It always looked to me like a midway point between a corpse and a motorcycle. And you definitely get the impression that it's only human shaped because it gestated in a human host.
Any square you could cut from the whole design could still be identified as part of The Alien or at least Giger's work. The same size square from most other monsters is more likely to be a meaningless patch of elephantlike skin or raw meat. Surely there are other unique styles out there though???
I'd love to know more about the material harvesting process. I did a small bird shelter roof with cans, took ages and my edges were a little messy. And I guess I'd love to know more about the edge smoothing and joining there because it looks so good.
Here lately I sneezed and felt something pop incredibly painfully in my lower abdomen. I didn't end up with a ton of pain after and never ran a fever but I did feel run down after and have had an awful lot of bathroom trips (#1), and have been taking ibuprofen for swelling like candy since then. Not one but two gynecological professionals were like huh wonder what that's about. Well I have a beard and a uterus so up until recently the name of the condition (pcos, now pmos) might have been a clue?? (weirdly both agreed that yeah I for sure have pcos/pmos but that's just an item in the ol chartaroonie I guess)
I guess I thought that was medically interesting and might merit an ultrasound to take a look at things but fuck me I guess.
In a bit of ha ha oops, the thing that got me to stay quiet about my relationship status as a matter of habit was actually the ostensibly het relationship I was in previously.
4792 manuals available.
This website is a comprehensive source of government manuals, in PDF format, free to copy, republish and distribute as you want. The goal of this website is to "liberate" government manuals from the dirty hands of CDROM selling mafia. All manuals are offered at no charge.
“Vanilla” the subjective experience can be caused by any one of dozens of aromatic organic compounds. The Vanilla Orchid seed pod (not a bean), when ripened and cured properly, contains over 200 aromatics, many of which contribute to the subjective experience of “Vanilla” to varying degrees. However, Vanilla Orchids are… well, Orchids, which means they’re precious little darlings and a pain in the ass to grow, hence the low supply of the pods. Ripe vanilla fruit accounts for less than 15% of all Vanilla consumed annually.
From whence the rest, you ask?
Enter Vanillin, so named because it is foremost of these compounds in producing the aroma and flavor of the vanilla experience. This tasty little aromatic is actually a metabolic intermediary in all sorts of plant metabolisms, including but not limited to most woody trees.
During the development of Industrial Paper manufacturing, during a step which involves taking the pulverized and pulped wood fibers and washing them of the various compounds a living tree needs but a sheet of paper does not, one of the results was a rich, brown, pleasant-smelling, organic spirit. It was discovered that Vanillin could be mass-produced from this substance, and so Artificial Vanilla was born, which makes up the remaining 5/6ths of the vanilla consumed worldwide each year.
See, here’s the thing. Humans, like most Animals, can’t smell things that have no relevancy to our lives, and there’s correlations between attraction and aversion to certain compound classes and the lived experiences of our Ancestors. Smell is a deeply chemical sense, and we wouldn’t find Vanilla pleasant unless that aroma had some sort of universal relevance to Human Survival. Our ancestral environment was riparian woodlands.
There’s Vanilla in decaying leaf litter.
There’s Vanilla in rich soil.
Old books smell good because one of the products of the decaying wood of the paper is Vanilla.
The Library is an olfactory echo of the Forest Primeval do you see my vision
My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for as low as $2/month on my Patreon or here for free on ao3 and vote in the poll! Here is a guide to get you started, the summaries of each part of the story thus far, the complete collected text, and FAQ, all in one place. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!
✨Read the update on my patreon or ao3 & vote on what happens next!
✨ Excerpt below the cut.
Before Holliday had given her that overly flashy bolo tie for her wedding, Lou’s signet ring had certainly been the most valuable piece of jewelry she owned. And, not just valuable, but special. It had been an award for ten years of service in the Pony Express. It had been the first unsolicited parcel she’d ever received addressed to herself. It had her name on it, engraved inside the band. Lou had been moved to tears when she’d first gotten it. It was special and uniquely hers.
Lou went into her pack and withdrew it from the pocket she kept it in. It was big and silver, with a little chip of a diamond as the star on the Pony Express’s emblem. There was still a little bit of Artie’s blood caked into the engraving, from when Lou had punched her in the face with it at Holliday’s wedding. Lou hoped that didn’t dampen her intended message. She held it out to Artie, who was still distressed from Lou’s previous offer. She reflexively reached out for whatever it was that Lou was handing her, but yanked her hand away when she saw what it was.
“Take this,” Lou said, holding it out to her again.
“I can’t,” Artie said. “It’s your ring. You said it was an award or something.”
“I’m giving it to you,” Lou said. “Come on, give me your hand.”
“It’ll be too small,” Artie said. She kept her hands tightly curled into fists at her side.
“Let’s check,” Lou said. “Be a good sport.”
Artie reluctantly held her left hand out. Lou tried to place the ring on her middle finger, the way she wore it, but it wouldn’t move past Artie’s first knuckle.
“See?” Artie said.
She tried to pull her hand away but Lou grabbed it by the wrist. Lou was able to slip the ring onto Artie’s pinky. She looked up at her for a reaction.
“Too tight,” Artie said, flexing her hand.
“Try the other hand,” Lou said.
Artie put the ring on her right pinky, then held it out in front of herself, looking at it for a moment with an expression that looked almost pained. The ring looked like a good fit to Lou, but Artie shook her head and took it off.
“It doesn’t fit,” she said, handing it back to Lou. “I told you it wouldn’t.”
Lou pushed it back at her. She felt increasingly desperate, but also at the cusp of real annoyance.
“Just keep it in your pocket, then. Anything,” Lou said. “I want you to take it.”
“It’s– you just said its your only nice thing,” Artie said. “I’m not gonna take that from you and leave you with nothing.”
“I want you to have it,” Lou said.
“Give me– I can take one of your little scarves or something, instead. The yellow one,” Artie said, gesturing toward Lou’s pack. “I like you in the yellow one.”
“Have it, too, if you want, but that ain’t nothing. That ain’t worth nothing,” Lou said, exasperated. “That’s just some bullshit I have.”
“Great, then you won’t miss it,” Artie said.
Lou felt herself wanting to become mean and agitated, but paused and closed her eyes to think. She wanted to express what she wanted to express without resorting to cussing or yelling or fighting words. It was a new impulse for her.
“I want you to have this–” she held the ring up, “because it is special. It was made for me, just for me, it has my name on it, and it’s only ever been mine,” she said. “It would mean something– it would mean a whole lot to me for you to take it with you.”
“To the grave?” Artie said, like that was going to make her change her mind.
“To the grave,” Lou said. “If you’d have a piece of me to bring with you.”
Artie’s nostrils flared and her lip twitched, but after a couple of seconds she took it and put it on her right hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the ring on her hand.
“For what?” Lou asked. She felt victorious. Artie had nothing to apologize for.
Artie just shook her head and got to work preparing them for their day’s travel. Lou knew it was stupid– Artie had only taken it so that she would have something to carry into her grave, and only took it under pressure, at that. It didn’t mean anything except for her willingness to give into Lou’s whims. She knew it wasn’t like it was a token of them going steady or anything, but Lou felt unspeakably proud whenever she noticed her ring there, on Artie’s pinky, as they packed up camp. Her girl wearing her ring. Just like how it was supposed to be. Everything else was so weird and wrong, but that was one single little thing that felt right.
vaporwave
ellievsbear
jbbartram-illu
