not my circus however the monkeys appear to be holding me hostage
Today's Document
almost home

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@skirmiche
not my circus however the monkeys appear to be holding me hostage
link to tweet: (x)
grandad will always be thereâŠ.
This is what âbeauty drawn from and in the midst of cyberpunk dystopiaâ looks like, Black Mirror WISHES-
Item: bird-mounted knife holster
Me with every fucking single kids movie.
Quick costume change
(via)
this ask polly comment..
we are not born to die!! what are you talking about!! do you think a book begins just to finish? do you think a song opens with a beautiful chord just for it to end? you donât read the book to finish it, you read the book to eat up the excitement and the emotions it evokes!! to learn and to digest and to fall in love and be heartbroken!! you listen to the song to dance and dance and sing your throat raw!!! to cry and smile and swell with the harmonies!! yes, we are born with the inevitable fate of death, we are mortal after all, but that is merely the finale of the play!! the final act, the closing of the curtains - we are not born to take a bow and exit stage left!! we are born to love and be joyous and yell and move and learn and cry and feelfeelfeel!!! we are not born to die, silly, weâre born to live!!!
This is so violently hopeful and uplifting everyone needs to see it
sidon is baby
Two identical infants lay in the cradle. âOne you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,â the Faeâs voice echoed from the shadows. âIâm taking both my children,â the mother said defiantly.
Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things â her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.
She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.
So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummerâs Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.
âYou know,â a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, âthat there will be a price to pay later.â
She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. âI know it,â she said, still staring into the well. âAnd I also know that I may set conditions.â
âThat is true,â the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasnât pleased that she knew that. âWhat condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?â
âThat the child will come to no harm,â she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. âWhether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.â
âAhhhhh.â The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. âYes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.â A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. âEat this,â the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. âAll of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.â
Keep reading
(source)
Diane di Prima
ursula k. le guin, the lathe of heaven
Nick and Judy from zootopia technically don't have an interspecies relationship because by the end of the movie, they're both pigs
Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.
Carpathia received Titanicâs distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.
(Californianâs exact position at the time isâŠcontroversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanicâs distress rockets. Itâs uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)
Carpathiaâs Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanicâs aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.
All of Carpathiaâs lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.
I donât know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.
Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awakeâprepping a ship for disaster relief isnât quietâand all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.
And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.
Hereâs the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining roomsâwhich, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when sheâd done that, he asked her to go faster.
I need you to understand that you simply canât push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only recklessâitâs difficult to maneuverâbut it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They canât do it. It canât be done.
Carpathiaâs absolute do-or-die, the-engines-canât-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.
No one would have asked this of them. It wasnât expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.
They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.
This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanicâs last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.
In total, 705 people of Titanicâs original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.
At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.
I think the least we can do is remember them for it.
wow okay iâm crying now
âAnd even as he watched the rescue unfolding that morning, he would have understood that for the living, everything which could have been done had been done: not a single survivor was lost or injured being brought aboard the Carpathia. For those who had gone down with the Titanic, save for reverencing their memory at the service later that day, there was nothing more that he or anyone could do. Rostronâs duty now was as he always saw it: to the living.â
I looked up a bit about this because the post is so movingly written that when I read it aloud to my husband and mother they both wept like babies, and something else really struck me about this story.
So Carpathia was not a top-end luxury liner. Her reputation was for being Jolly Comfortable - she was very broad in her proportions, and not super-duper fast, and the result was that she didnât rock so much on the waves and you couldnât particularly hear/feel the engines. She was solid and dependable, and lots of people liked using her, but she therefore occupied a lesser niche than Titanic or Olympian or whatever - and crucially, as a result of that, she only had one radio operator on board. This means she only had radio ops for a certain window in the day, unlike Titanic, which had 24 hour radio ops.
So on that night, when Titanic went down, Carpathiaâs wireless operator - one Harold Cottam - clocked off his shift at midnight, and went to bed. While he was getting ready for bed, though, he left the transmitter on for the hell of it, and therefore picked up a transmission from Cape Race in Newfoundland, the closest transmitting tower sending messages to the ships. They told him that they had a backlog of private traffic for Titanic that wasnât getting through. So, even though his shift was over, and it was now 11 minutes past bloody midnight, and he just wanted to go to bed, Harold Cottam decided that nonetheless, heâd be helpful, and let the Titanic know they had messages waiting.
And thatâs how he received the Titanicâs distress signal. In spite of no longer being on shift to receive it, and therefore in order to send Carpathia galloping to Titanicâs rescue, and thus saving 705 people.
All because Harold Cottam decided one night to be kind.Â
I dunno. Thatâs just really stuck with me.
Cottam also ended up staying awake for something like 48 hours straight trying to send survivors messages and a list of survivors home, but due to Carpathiaâs limited radio frequency range and with no other ships to act as a relay, this was rather patchy. However, he tried his damn best to make sure the survivorâs messages got home, and was also bombarded with incoming messages of bribes to spill the details of the disaster to the press.
Rostrum had ordered that no messages to the press be sent out of respect to the survivors, for they would have their privacy destroyed as soon as they reached New York. Cottam respected this order, even under extreme duress of fatigue, stress, and the knowledge that in some cases the bribes were almost three times his annual salary.
He eventually went to bed but not before working with one of the rescued Titanicâs radio operators, Harold Bride, to transmit as many messages as possible. Bride was injured (his feet had been crushed in a lifeboat) and had just passed the body of the second of Titanicâs radio operators aboard (Jack Phillips), so neither of them were really in the best shape to keep working, but they did.
In the face of extreme adversity, both men refused to do anything but their duty (and exceeding their duty) not just because Rostrum had ordered it, but because it was the right thing to do. They could have profited considerably from the disaster and they refused for the dignity of the survivors.
This is hopepunk. This is what we can be, what we are, when instinct takes over. This is what we are when we choose to care about each other. Weâre not profit machines or units of production or lone fierce wolves in a bitter wilderness. We are people, and we care about people.
This is human nature. Donât give up on it.
Hopepunk is best punk.
this always leaves me sobbing. fuck.
I wrote a post a couple of years ago, wondering why there hadnât been a documentary or docu-drama about the âCarpathiaâ rescue run.
There are probably sound reasons why not, one of which is probably that getting yet another âTitanicâ project greenlit is far easier - name recognition, pre-sold property, multiple conspiracy theories to play with (all discredited, but when did that stop the âHistoryâ Channel?)
Here are a couple of stories about âCarpathiaâ:
As @mylordshesacactus has already said, her boilers and engines were rated for no more than 14 knots and, when she managed 17.5 for the only time in her life itâs said (I hate the phrase but I have to use it) that the Chief Engineer hung his hat over the main pressure gauge so no-one - including himself - could see how far its needle was into the red.
Captain Rostron, a religious man, was seen on several occasions standing privately on the exposed bridge wing with his own hat raised and his mouth moving in silent prayer, and when daylight revealed the extent of the ice-field his ship had passed without harm, he only said âThere must have been another Hand on the wheel than mineâŠâ
Thereâs another problem-of-sorts about a screenplay set aboard âCarpathiaâ - an astonishing lack of that easy dramatic tool, conflict. Captain Rostron decided he was going to the âTitanicâs assistance, and that was that. AFAIK not a single passenger or crewman - not one - questioned the wisdom of his decision either then or afterwards, even whenâŠ
âŠâCarpathiaâ headed at more than full speed, in the dark, through dangerous waters where an iceberg had apparently just sunk an âunsinkableâ ship.
Itâs easier to write - and sell - a story about pride, arrogance, stupidity, rich against poor and lives lost through hubris, than it is to write one about people who rallied round and did the right thing at the right time, not for reward but because it was the right thing to do.
Hereâs Rostron and his officersâŠ
âŠthe âCarpathiaâ stewards and cabin crewâŠ.
âŠsome of her passengersâŠ
âŠand some of the people they helped.
I will always reblog one of the few posts to GUARANTEE leaving me in an ugly sobbing heartfelt mess.
Godspeed Carpathia and your crew, your memories live on.
CT, have you ever played D&D? and what class do you play/think you would play?
I enjoy D&D. I play human fighters.
Listen. All of my friends are gay. They all play slutty tiefling bards or Goliath berserkers that are soft uwu beans or edgy half-elf oathbreaker paladins. None of you understand the true comedy potential of being the Regular Guy.
My last character was a Human Fighter named Gavin who made a humble living killing boars with a spear. His father was a boar Hunter. His wife Myrna runs the farm and sells beer out of their cottage and he loves her a lot. They have two kids. Tiffany wants to be a seamstress and Arthur wants to become a scribe.
Gavin just wants to kill things with a spear so he can go home and kiss his wife. He's a dad out of water. He hates being part of a prophecy so much. He hates quests. He hates mystical riddles so fucking much. He doesn't understand these weird gay demons but he's doing his best and they remind him of his kids. He's practical. He knows how to camp. He knows how to dress wounds. He grounds the group. He's what keeps the narrative human.
This weekend I was schmoozing at an event when some guy asked me what kind of history I study. I said âIâm currently researching the role of gender in Jewish emigration out of the Third Reich,â and he replied âoh you just threw gender in there for fun, huh?â and shot me what he clearly thought to be a charming smile.
The reality is that most of our understandings of history revolve around what men were doing. But by paying attention to the other half of humanity our understanding of history can be radically altered.
For example, with Jewish emigration out of the Third Reich it is just kind of assumed that it was a decision made by a man, and the rest of his family just followed him out of danger. But that is completely inaccurate. Women, constrained to the private social sphere to varying extents, were the first to notice the rise in social anti-Semitism in the beginning of Hitlerâs rule. They were the ones to notice their friends pulling away and their social networks coming apart. They were the first to sense the danger.
German Jewish men tended to work in industries which were historically heavily Jewish, thus keeping them from directly experiencing this âsocial death.â These women would warn their husbands and urge them to begin the emigration process, and often their husbands would overlook or undervalue their concerns (âyouâre just being hystericalâ etc). After the Nuremberg Laws were passed, and after even more so after Kristallnacht, it fell to women to free their husbands from concentration camps, to run businesses, and to wade through the emigration process.
The fact that the Nazis initially focused their efforts on Jewish men meant that it fell to Jewish women to take charge of the family and plan their escape. In one case, a woman had her husband freed from a camp (to do so, she had to present emigration papers which were not easy to procure), and casually informed him that she had arranged their transport to Shanghai. Her husbandâso traumatized from the campâmade no argument. Just by looking at what women were doing, our understanding of this era of Jewish history is changed.
I have read an article arguing that the Renaissance only existed for men, and that women did not undergo this cultural change. The writings of female loyalists in the American Revolutionary period add much needed nuance to our understanding of this period. The character of Jewish liberalism in the first half of the twentieth century is a direct result of the education and socialization of Jewish women. I can give you more examples, but I think you get the point.
So, you wanna understand history? Then you gotta remember the ladies (and not just the privileged ones).
ask historicity-was-already-taken a question
Holy fuck. I was raised Jewishâ with female Rabbis, even!â and I did not hear about any of this. Gender studies are important.Â
Why Gender History is Important (Asshole)
âso you just threw gender in there for funâ ffs i hope you poured his drink down his pants
I actually studied this in one of my classes last semester. It was beyond fascinating.Â
There was one woman who begged her husband for months to leave Germany. When he refused to listen to her, she refused to get into bed with him at night, instead kneeling down in front of him and begging him to listen to her, or if he wouldnât listen to her, to at least tell her who he would listen to. He gave her the name of a close, trusted male friend. She went and found that friend, convinced him of the need to get the hell out of Europe, and then brought him home. Thankfully, her husband finally saw sense and moved their family to Palestine.
Another woman had a bit more control over her own situation (she was a lawyer). She had read Mein Kampf when it was first published and saw the writing on the wall. She asked her husband to leave Europe, but he didnât want to leave his (very good) job and told her that he had faith in his countrymen not to allow an evil man to have his way. She sent their children to a boarding school in England, but stayed in Germany by her husbandâs side. Once it was clear that if they stayed in Germany they were going to die, he fled to France but was quickly captured and killed. His wife, however, joined the French Resistance and was active for over a year before being captured and sent to Auschwitz.
(This is probably my favorite of these stories) The third story is about a young woman who saved her fiance and his father after Kristallnacht. She was at home when the soldiers came, but her fiance was working late in his shop. Worried for him, she snuck out (in the middle of all the chaos) to make sure he was alright. She found him cowering (quite understandably) in the back of his shop and then dragged him out, hoping to escape the violence. Unfortunately, they were stopped and he, along with hundreds of other men, was taken to a concentration camp. She was eventually told that she would have to go to the camp in person to free him, and so she did. Unfortunately, the only way she could get there was on a bus that was filled with SS men; she spent the entire trip smiling and flirting with them so that they would never suspect that she wasnât supposed to be there. When she got to the camp, she convinced whoever was in charge to release her fiance. She then took him to another camp and managed to get her father-in-law to be released. Her father-in-law was a rabbi, so she grabbed a couple or witnesses and made him perform their marriage ceremony right then and there so that it would be easier for her to get her now-husband out of the country, which she did withing a few months. This woman was so bad ass that not only was her story passed around resistance circles, even the SS men told it to each other and honoured her courage.Â
The moral of these stories is that men tend to trust their governments to take care of them because they always have; women know that our governments will screw us over because they always have.Â
Another interesting tidbit is that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that Kristallnacht is a term that historians came up with after the fact, and was not what the event was actually called at the time. Itâs likely that the event was actually called was (Iâm sorry that I canât remember the German word for it but it translates to) night of the feathers, because that, instead of broken glass, is the image that stuck in peopleâs minds because the soldiers also went into peopleâs homes and destroyed their bedding, throwing the feathers from pillows and blankets into the air. What does it say that in our history we have taken away the focus of the event from the more domestic, traditionally feminine, realms, and placed it in the business, traditionally masculine, realms?
Badass women and interesting commentary. Though I would argue that âNight of Broken Glass" includes both the personal and the private spheres. It was called Kristallnacht by the Nazis, which led to Jewish survivors referring to it as the November Pogrom until the term âKristallnacht" was reclaimed, as such.
None of this runs directly counter to your fascinating commentary, though.
READ THIS.
If anyone has books or articles related to these accounts or ones like them, please let me know. These stories need to be told.Â
@the-waters-and-the-wild hi! Iâm (OP) actually writing a book on these themes. If youâre interested in learning more or helping me out with access, please check out this page: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/women-in-the-warsaw-jewish-underground-project#/
Help me pay for the translators, books, reproductions of archival materials, and editors I need. | Check out 'Women in the Warsaw Jewish Und