wallacepolsom
Keni
Xuebing Du
DEAR READER
tumblr dot com
h
Jules of Nature
I'd rather be in outer space šø
art blog(derogatory)
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
romaā
One Nice Bug Per Day
ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
blake kathryn
Claire Keane
ojovivo
No title available
šŖ¼
ā£ Chile in a Photography ā£
Andulka
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@tfrohock
Iām always on the hunt for a good vampire movie. Some of my favoritesāand by favorites, I mean movies Iām willing to watch more than onceāare Nosferatu, Near Dark, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, Vampyr, Ganja & Hess, Let the Right One In, and now, El Conde.
Women werenāt always told to fear trans women. Prior to trans women, the monster used to be black men or Jewish men, or any minority, becaus
Women werenāt always told to fear trans women. Prior to trans women, the monster used to be black men or Jewish men, or any minority, becauseāIām sure you can see where this is goingāthese minority men are after one thing: women. Not all men, mind you, just minority men, so women should be scared of minority men ...
In reality, none of these people are the least bit concerned for women (or children, for that matter) ... Their real campaign is hate, and they use fear to constrict peopleās interactions with persons determined to be the āother,ā the monsters weāre supposed to fear.
Rather than having emotionally intelligent discussions that might make us smarter and more empathic toward one another, weāre dumbing down i
I talk about censorship and how the hate you give is making us all dumb.
With other notes then to th' Orphean Lyre / I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, / Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down / The dark desc
It seems Iāve quite unintentionally disappeared from sight again, but rather than being sucked into the mainstream of life, I was sick this
I see it a lot in my students that the ONLY mode they can engage with literature on is one in which they either say it's good because it's "relatable" or it's bad because they "can't relate to it" as well, and I feel like this is a symptom of the same problem. An unwillingness to engage with fiction outside of its ability to be a mirror to your specific worldview and set of morals. But art doesn't exist to give you moral purity badges--it's a mode of expression that produces conversations between artists and readers. And to engage in those converesations on an adult level you need to learn to process the discomfort of flawed human realities productively.
On not liking the thing ...
Once, I said I did not like a thing (it was a book). And someone who LOVED that book told me all the beautiful things about the story. Then I reexamined the book through the other person's eyes, and I saw a thing I, too, could love.
Sometimes not liking a thing means the inability to see the nuances of the work until it's viewed through the eyes of others, and then we understand. So when someone says they don't like a thing, don't necessarily be dismissive of the individual. It could be they don't understand the art you love so passionately, and even if they still don't enjoy the thing after you explain your love for it, the individual will have a deeper understand of YOU.
My very first [cheesy] book trailer for Where Oblivion Lives.
Artificial Intelligence is just that: artificial. There is nothing intelligent about it. I donāt fear A.I. bots writing fiction. I fear huma
Iāve been following the A.I. fad as itās developed, and Iāve discovered a whole new reason to fear our robot overlords, because they are, after all, us.
Let me explain:
Take a break from the romance and candy hearts to tap into your darker side. February is full of thrilling and chilling new horror reads!
Killing Bots
Sing to the tune of Killing Butterflies (with apologies to Lewis Blissett):
Killing Bots on Tumblr
All the bots we've seen They just make us scream Now they're in our dreams Open up Tumblr Now it never stops Full of little bots
Bots, scams, some things are meant to be torn apart Links, malware, some things are meant to be broke
Killing, killing, killing, killing, killing, killing bots Killing, killing, killing, killing, killing, killing bots Killing, killing, killing, killing, killing, killing bots We stay up all night killing bots (I'm killing, I'm killing, I'm killing, I'm killing)
/end
This week's score of dead bots: 8 and counting.
I genuinely think @staff should give us an official Bot Kill Count where it ticks up every time a bot you reported is officially taken off by the tumblr team and when you hit a certain number you get gruesome little trophies. Gamification can be of the devil but in this particular case I need a little treat for doing my daily chore of taking out the trash
From Chinquapin Hill:
An excerpt from a new novel I'm working on:
I knew Rebekah Barrow was dead long before I saw the hearseās brake lights flash. My house was a half mile from her driveway, but the road was straight; all that stood between us was the camelback bridge crossing the Dan River. The drive itself was tucked between a thick strand of oak, birch, and of course, the chinquapin trees from which the property took its name. Snaking between those trees, the long black car rolled glossy as a beetle.
Just as Iād suspected she would, my friend Kaye-Lynn, who had a police scanner she listened to the same way normal people listen to the radio, kept me informed of the events as they happened. She called at a few minutes before seven and left a voice message to tell me they were doing a wellness check on my Rebekah Barrow, as if working for the old woman gave me ownership over her.
I was awake, but I didnāt answer the phone. Just sat in my arm chair and listened to her sharp voice cutting into my answering machine.
I got scared then. What if they found her alive? Or in a coma? I yearned for a cigarette and regretted that Iād quit smoking three years ago. It took me a bit but I calmed myself. Brunswick and Kallam didnāt become the force behind the town of Wrightās Corner by being careless.
The next time Kaye-Lynn called, I answered the phone and surprised myself with my even voice. Kaye-Lynn said theyād radioed the ambulance about eight mile back while it was still on McConnell Church Road. One minute it was screaming along, lights and sirens blaring, and the next, it went quiet and dark as it turned around in the parking lot of the Antioch Baptist Church. Looked like it was sulking, Kaye-Lynn said before she hung up at half past seven.
I expected the news would leave me relieved but it didnāt. Fear still coated my mouth and left me dry. I went on the front porch and watched another police car arrive, followed forty minutes later by the hearse.
The Second World War and the Holocaust defined the twentieth century as nothing else did. Hitler was the chief author of both. It would be absurd to reduce such epoch-defining momentous events to tā¦
The (plaster) Moon (1873)
The Moon; Considered as a Planet, a World, and a Satellite (1873). Photograph (probably a photogravure) from the first edition of the classic and influential text on lunar geology by James Nasmyth and James Carpenter. | src Jeschke van Vliet Auktionen
The book was one of the first to be illustrated with photomechanical prints, praised by a contemporary reviewer as one of the "truest and most striking representations of natural objects", although the illustrations are not actual photographs of the Moon. (...) Nasmyth and Carpenter pointed the camera not at the lunar surface itself, but at a series of hand-made plaster models based on these drawings (...)
view & read more on wordPress
It's the press's responsibility to cut through the talking points with facts. Armed with the facts, the people might have a good chance of f
