zevreal's fake @zevreal - Tumblr Blog

To live's to fly.

- Townes van Zandt

Call me Zevreal or Zev.

I post poems and other art here, and such works are mine unless stated.

#introduction #filipino #linguistics #hiligaynon #language #kinaray-a

Sa pagpamura kang imung bayhun, pagpasilag kang imung limug, kag pagpabatyag kang imung pagkatawo, ako magabuya sa ubus lunsay tanantanan agud mangin kaibahan nimo lagi, ulitawo nga nailaan kag kinahamut-an

Agud kanimo ako magabatas, magatuad, magabalhin, kag magaluntad

Kabay pa nga maglabay ang burulakaw nga ja kang pagbakhu ko sa kalangitan kang imung painuino, pinalangga

- Tan

02 02 26

#kinaray-a #binalaybay

yvanspijk

Roman cuisine

The English word kitchen has the same origin as French cuisine: Latin cocīna. While the Germanic tribes of the early first millennium were as familiar with cooking as any other culture, they adopted the Roman concept of a separate cooking room. With it, they adopted the Latin word cocīna, which after fifteen centuries of Germanic and English sound changes has become kitchen.

Through Romance and Germanic, the Latin word spread to dozens of other languages, ranging from Japanese to Welsh and from Hindi to Czech. Just like the Germanic peoples, speakers of these languages did have a place to cook, but they adopted the Romance and Germanic words along with the different approach to a kitchen.

In many cases, there were already native words for a cooking area, and often these still coexist with the borrowings, such as Japanese daidokoro and kitchin,and Greek mageireío and kouzína, sometimes with different uses or connotations.

homunculus-argument

Alright y'all, as promised, here it is:

Recipe of Nothing Soup

aka potion of involuntary naptime

Today we are starting with three onions, six large potatoes, four big carrots, a slice from a small cabbage, two packets of chicken noodles, 150 grams of pre-cooked shredded chicken (optional), three cupped handfuls of rice (exact measures unclear, my boyfriend measures with his heart), and oregano, pepper, salt and bouillon cubes to taste.

Chop vegetables as illustrated. Find your biggest pot, fill it with water, and put it on a heat source (stovetop, open fire, idk how you live your life. do not microwave though, I will kill you). Put all ingredients save for noodles into the pot as the water heats to a gentle boil. Add the spices and stock cubes as you see fit. Let the soup boil for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once 10 minutes are up (15 if the root vegetables are still tough instead of well-boiled), crush up the noodles and sprinkle them into the pot. Let cook for 5 more minutes.

Enjoy, and consume responsibly: Potion of Eepy.

homunculus-argument

The thing about fiction is that there's stuff that's completely gone from your mind in a few years but there's just some fragment or tidbit about it that follows you around forever.

Like there was this webcomic I read like 15 years ago, remember fuck all else about it but there was a character in it whose name was Saves A Fox. When she was asked about it once she explained that her people are big into prophesies and fate, and that children are named after something they were fated to do. She always hated that. And this one time she unexpectedly walked in on a wild fox gorgeing itself on her food supplies, and she knew that this was it. The fox wasn't even skittish, it wasn't trying to escape, it was almost tame, looking at her gently like just expecting her to choose mercy and let the food thief go. And everyone around her was expecting it too. But while she didn't want to hurt the poor creature, she hated the thought of having her future dictated for her even more than that.

So she snapped the fox's neck. Just to prove herself and everyone bearing witness that she had free will and wasn't a pawn of any fate or prophesy. Needless to say, her community did not like that.

Later on she learned about what rabies is. The fox she had killed had rabies. She had saved the fox from a far more terrible and slow, painful death.

enki2

androdragynous

[ID: A tweet by TylerAlterman:

"In the middle of a "forcing party" where friends and I are forcing one another to do the things that we've been avoiding.

So far: [bullet list] A passport has been filed for; An inbox has been zero'd; A personal website has been created; & more.

I recommend this format!"]

anathemaegg

call that attending an Executive Function

zevreal

me and my friends need to do this at least once a month tbh

unfavorableinstigation

Growing up, my brother and I deeply dreaded going shoe shopping. It took hours, especially if it was for winter boots. My dad would examine the stitching, the brand reliability, the temperature recommendations, every piece of information he could get his hands on, and then when he'd finally found the right brand, it was on to making absolutely dead sure they fit properly - he had a particular way of poking the toe of the boot to ensure our foot was where it was supposed to be that always drove me nuts. This was always on a weekend, and it was about the worst punishment we could imagine.

Years later, I found out that he'd spent his entire childhood on the Canadian prairies with cold feet. My grandmother just bought whatever boots looked like the best value, regardless of whether they'd keep anyone warm. They'd kept him from frostbite, probably, but never, ever comfortable.

The reason my grandmother never had a thought about this was because she was buying her kids real boots. There was a sort of magical quality about real, purpose-made boots that meant that of course they'd work, because when she was growing up on the Canadian prairies, they had the kind of no money that meant you just stuffed some newspaper into your shoes and soldiered on.

The last pair of winter boots my dad bought for me was 15 years ago, in preparation for a three-month stint living in northern Quebec in midwinter. They cost $200 then, or something like it. I've worn them every year since, driving out to the remotest locations on the Canadian prairies and never once thinking about my feet.

When I read the Vimes Boots Theory for the first time, it rang a bell that reverberated back three generations.

sixty-silver-wishes

folk music: "I have faced generations of oppression and mourn my lost love and country, but my culture will persist and survive"

also folk music: "I am going to drink so much alcohol you don't understand. literally So much alcohol"

also folk music: "oops I killed my husband lol"

also folk music: "shit I should have married that girl. too bad she keeps ignoring me every time I try to break into her house"

also folk music: "I feel an unimaginable grief for a past I can never return to" also folk music: "fiddle dee doodle diddle deedle deedle dee"

Balangáw sa kahapunánun ubus nga tumalíthi

(Rainbow in the afternoon after a drizzle)

Central Philippine University

1735-1740 16 01 25

#photography #golden hour #central philippine university #hiligaynon