FTFY, National Monitor
Still relevant, 7 years later.
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
$LAYYYTER
noise dept.

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
Three Goblin Art
AnasAbdin

#extradirty
DEAR READER
cherry valley forever
sheepfilms
seen from T1

seen from Ukraine

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan

seen from Belgium

seen from Azerbaijan

seen from Singapore

seen from Türkiye
seen from Oman
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from United States
@orderednothingness
FTFY, National Monitor
Still relevant, 7 years later.
I think I would've been way worse off this week if I hadn't spent the previous week reading The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt. Also if my early twenties hadn't taught me how to walk around day after day with the inside of my chest feeling like jangling glass all the time. Preparation notwithstanding, turns out that what I can't do is go shopping for dinner and interact with all the PoC at my local market and get to my car before the ugly crying begins. I guess tonight I will try to park closer to the entrance.
In the books, District 11 rises in protest against fascism. In reality, they vote Trump.
In this context, every day at Hooters is a poem. As a daily poem, Hooters captures a state of being. This is the state of being an object, or subaltern, without wings. Wings surround the subaltern, she might even be wearing a panty liner with wings, but, ultimately, these wings are not hers. Furthermore, unless she’s bleeding on them, wings are fried and battered. Honeyed and chipotlaid. Men eat these things which represent flight. They suck the marrow out of these things which represent departure. Wings are dead. Mutilated. The goose is cooked. Escape is, symbolically, impossible. The restaurant functions as birdcage.
AMERICAN ABJECT: CALIFORNIA GIRL AS ABJECT OR THE THEATRE OF THE BOOBSURD
The thought arrives, resolves, unbidden: I should place my forehead against the desk and press. Press. Harder. Press until my head sinks into the desk itself, me and desk intermingled.
Of course this is impossible, borderline nihilistic, poetic, and frightening thinking.
Medical science often invoked on either side of the abortion debate. So what is the scientific evidence for some of the main claims around abortion?
Okay, lexicography friends, here are some words I need.
A word for the unease after reading a close-minded facebook status posted by a close family member.
A word for the unease arising from not being able to find the words to engage said family member on said topic.
A word for the discomfort of not being able to work up the energy to engage said family member on said topic.
A word for feeling of not exactly tiptoeing around but definitely actively avoiding said topic when next you have an unrelated conversation with said family member.
To paraphrase Terry Pratchett, my biggest problem is trying to understand hopelessly complicated and nuanced social systems using a language devised for telling one another where the best fruit is.
The murder of three men and six women at a church in Charleston is a national tragedy, but in America, the killing of black people is an unending spectacle.
Blaming "mental illness" is a cop-out -- and one that lets us avoid talking about race, guns, hatred and terrorism
“We’ve successfully created a world so topsy-turvy that seeking medical help for depression or anxiety is apparently stronger evidence of violent tendencies than going out and purchasing a weapon whose only purpose is committing acts of violence.”
2:25 pm not comfortable on floor -- peacock blue pencil acting like a off the younger pencil than he is. floor! that’s where people aught ought to be!
1:57 pm peach tea happened. not now, but in the past in Tennessee i am fascinated by
Oh god, please let this showdown become a print.
Movies! Robots! Bad Time Travel!
This weekend past I finally saw Ex Machina, which is currently sitting top tier for my favorite movie this year, even with its missed trick in the first five minutes re: Turing tests. Also saw the new Mad Max film, which was outrageous and fun.
Oh right, also saw Looper for the first time, but ugh, probably my least favorite kind of time travel implementation representation in film. It was fine.
But speaking of androids and dystopian futures! This coming weekend is Regional Netrunner tournament in Michigan, which I am registered to attend. I will spend all week playing through the permutations of the four decks I want to take until I settle on two. The current leaning is Hayley/Jinteki Biotech, with a preference for running first. The idea being that Hayley takes time to set up (which matches the slow pace of Replicating Perfection, which should be out in spades), followed up by my Biotech deck which aims to score out a Nisei Mk II second turn, putting me well ahead of the curve for winning a timed win if the first game goes long. The other standouts would be MaxX (for crazy-brained fun fast running) and Near Earth Hub death of a thousand remotes, which would probably just die to Shaper RDI locks. Feh.
Whatever happens, it will be a loooong day with lots of crushing defeats and I’m sure I’ll have a report later.
Usually I like to listen to music while I’m traveling, but there really isn’t any that feels appropriate for this particular situation. Nobody writes songs called “LOL I Failed Life (So I’m Going To A Place I Hate).” Coming home is supposed to be a happy thing! But for most people, home isn’t Dayton.
I’m unconvinced a simple song could convey the shittiness of Dayton ‘burbs. Maybe a concept album. Maybe the worst concept album.
If reading great literature traumatizes you, wait until you get a taste of adult life, Peggy Noonan writes.
“If reading great literature traumatizes you, wait until you get a taste of adult life.”
You mean like when I was sexually assaulted at 16? That sort of adult life? Or when I was assaulted again at 19? Do I have my adulthood card yet, or do I need to be assaulted a few more times?
Seriously though : fuck Peggy Noonan.
People who rage against “oversensitivity” always leap to the very bottom of an imaginary slippery slope, where college professors have to include trigger warnings for everything from apples to zebras and nobody is permitted to speak to anybody ever lest they commit a microaggression against them and people who want to have sex with each other must submit signed and notarized consent forms, but don’t worry—that’s not where we’re headed. It makes for a shareable opinion piece, but it’s a distraction from the larger point: The Internet is helping us see that our words and actions impact others, sometimes negatively, sometimes preventably. It’s helping remind us that other people are real people, with real feelings and real stories to tell. That’s a good thing.
What’s behind the backlash against ‘over-sensitivity’ on the Internet?
My latest for the Daily Dot.
(via brutereason)