Right now I kind of wish I were a dude so I could wear this bow-tie. I suppose I could wear it anyway — it could be the beginning of a new gender-queer sort of fey style that I’ve never tried before.
Pictures of cats and writers make me so happy. This one especially because my sister’s cat is named Samuel “Sammy” Clemens, after this guy.
(via libraryland)
Extinction
It’s weird to think about the fact that someday, whether it’s 100 years from now or 100,000, humans are going to go extinct. At the very least, the sun is going to become a red giant in 5 billion years and everyone will die either from the radiation or from that whole being-engulfed-by-the-sun thing. But let’s face it — that won’t be an issue, because in the intervening time, we will all be killed by one of many possible doomsday scenarios: a supervolcano, a nuclear winter, World War III, intergalactic robot war, freak-intelligent zoo animals that break out of their glass cages and institute a brutal jungle government, etc.
What’s weird to me is not that humans are going to go extinct, but that some people, weak and tattered and baffled, are going to be the Last Humans Alive. I feel like this concept comes up all the time in science fiction, but it’s going to be reality someday for someone. This idea for me is both completely terrifying and REALLY COOL.
This is what happens when I read the Risks to civilization, humans and planet Earth Wikipedia article.
Gonna pump some iron tonight.
If you watch this enough times, the cat starts to look like a chubby little man with a moustache.
(via fuckyeahcatgifs)
Things I want to do this summer.
- Go to Atlantic City and win a lot of money at the slot machines and/or the blackjack table.
- Go to the Middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania and drink cheap beers and set off fireworks where they thunder against the mountainside.
- Watch all of Battlestar Galactica (the newer version).
- Get big and strong.
"Lancelot carried it to the window and fell silent, examining the writing. There was something touching about it, the hand being so unlike its author. Gawaine had hardly been the sort of person you thought of as a writer. Indeed it would have seemed more natural if he had been illiterate, like most of the others. Yet here, instead of the spiky Gothic then in use, was the lovely old Gaelic minuscule, as neat and round and small as when he had learned it from some ancient saint in dim Dunlothian. He had written so unfrequently since, that the art had retained its beauty. It was an old-maid’s hand, or an old-fashioned boy’s, sitting with his feet hooked round the legs of a stool and his tongue out, writing carefully. He had carried this innocent precision, these dainty demoded cusps, through misery and passion to old age. It was as if a bright boy had stepped out of the black armour: a small boy with a drop on the end of his nose, his feet bare with blue toes, a root of tangle in the thin bundle of carrots which were his fingers."
— T.H. White, from The Once and Future King
Geoff as Peter Sellers as Inspector Jacques Clouseau vs. Peter Sellers as Inspector Jacques Clouseau
This is too good. Now I remember why I had such a weird crush on Geoffrey Rush in high school.
Watch out — you might get what you’re after.
My favorite thing about the changing of the seasons is that my tastes in music undergo a perceptible change with the weather. Autumn is defined by Tom Waits, and this past winter was very heavily Leonard Cohen’d. Spring was a little Brian Eno and a lot of Shaggy (actually only “It Wasn’t Me,” but COPIOUSLY). Summer is usually Talking Heads on repeat, inter-spliced with some “Semi-Charmed Life” and John Prine during thunderstorms, and Paul Robeson singing “Ol’ Man River” when I am feeling especially “weary and sick of tryin’.”
Poem
I heard of a man
who says words so beautifully
that if he only speaks their name
women give themselves to him.
If I am dumb beside your body
while silence blossoms like tumours on our lips
it is because I hear a man climb the stairs
and clear his throat outside our door.— Leonard Cohen
(Source: exitbybears)
