so is anyone secretly in love with me yet
so is anyone secretly in love with me yet
Something For Kate
Paul Dempsey (performing solo)
2 July 2008
First Edition 1/2
Contact firstname.lastname@example.org for purchase details.
Work like hell! I had 122 rejection slips before I sold a story.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald (via xiumunk)
To privilege the book as reading, though—to forget that it is a technology—is analogous to forgetting one has a body
I’ve had this quote saved in my drafts, trying to figure out why I liked it so much and I think it’s finally kissed me just so.
It is about the processes, yes, but also the way the mind functions. What we think and how we think vs. what is the tangible thing that represents those thoughts. But that is not and can not be everything. The body is not the mind at work. A physical book is not the act of reading.
I loathed the idea of a kindle until I got one a couple of years ago and then it made so much sense. My apartment was (and still is) filled with books. I buy them regularly, making trips to my usual haunts in the city for stories both new and old. But now, I read even MORE. I have the kindle app on my phone and on my laptop too. My mind is free to read always and whenever. That is powerful. It will always be the words that matter not the medium in which they are delivered.
Consider the power of the tumblr dashboard. If you follow the right people, you will be surrounded by beauty and passion and humor and light. And also, words that will change your life. Strangers can share with you worlds you’d never known. A book is a book but a word is not just a word. It never can be and never will.(via britticisms)
"This is another new song, it’s called Monsters. It’s not finished yet, but I’ll just play it. I can’t remember the words. I played it for the first time last week."
*shuffles lyric sheets*
Australia right now.
Absolutely wonderful short film about artist Maira Kalman, patron saint of the moments inside the moments inside the moments.
I love kissing. If I could kiss all day, I would. I can’t stop thinking about kissing. I like kissing more than sex because there’s no end to it. You can kiss forever. You can kiss yourself into oblivion. You can kiss all over the body. You can kiss yourself to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t stop thinking about kissing. Dammit, I can’t get anything done because I’m so busy thinking about kissing. Kissing is madness! But it’s absolute paradise, if you can find a good kisser.
- Sufjan Stevens on kissing (via h3athledger)
Towards the whole "pronouns hurt people's feelings" topic. Am I REALLY the only person on the planet that thinks people are becoming far to sensative? Nearly to the point that they shouldn't leave their little home bubbles in the case that a bird chirps next to them in a way that sounds like a mean word. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, we're becoming a little TOO coddling and people need to learn to deal with simplistic shit like words. And yes, I've been insulted and made fun of. I got over it. So can you.
Supposedly invented by the Chinese, there is an ancient form of torture that is nothing more than cold, tiny drops falling upon a person’s forehead.
On its own, a single drop is nothing. It falls upon the brow making a tiny splash. It doesn’t hurt. No real harm comes from it.
In multitudes, the drops are still fairly harmless. Other than a damp forehead, there really is no cause for concern.
The key to the torture is being restrained. You cannot move. You must feel each drop. You have lost all control over stopping these drops of water from splashing on your forehead.
It still doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But person after person, time and time again—would completely unravel psychologically. They all had a breaking point where each drop turned into a horror. Building and building until all sense of sanity was completely lost.
"It was just a joke, quite being so sensitive."
"They used the wrong pronoun, big deal."
"So your parents don’t understand, it could be worse."
Day after day. Drop after drop. It builds up. A single instance on its own is no big deal. A few drops, not a problem. But when you are restrained, when you cannot escape the drops, when it is unending—these drops can be agony.
People aren’t sensitive because they can’t take a joke. Because they can’t take being misgendered one time. Because they lack a thick skin.
People are sensitive because the drops are unending and they have no escape from them.
You are only seeing the tiny, harmless, single drop hitting these so-called “sensitive” people. You are failing to see the thousands of drops endured before that. You are failing to see the restraints that make them inescapable.