What you really have to know is one: yourself. And the only way you can know that one is in the mirror of the others. And the only way you can see into the mirror of the others is by love or its opposite—by profound emotion. Certainly not by curiosity—by dancing around asking, looking, making notes. You have to live relationships to know.
Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

thenativephysicist:

growlithed:

bracly:

i like feminism when it’s about everyone being treated equal but here’s the thing: if it was about everyone being treated equally it wouldn’t be fucking called “feminism” it’d be called “treating everyone equally”

image

if you’re a feminist then you might as well just call yourself an egalitarian because it’s, y’know… better.

NOPE

Calling feminism egalitarianism or equalism or humanitarianism is a reduction of why the movement exists. Feminism is about challenging views brought about by our patriarchal society and changing things so that we can reduce the harm that patriarchy causes for EVERYONE. Feeling that the term feminism is wrong in some way because it is a term based on the female gender because this movement is about advocating for women’s rights is an excellent example of how the idea continues to be marginalized and ridiculed. You would be completely disregarding the origin and reasoning for the movement if you stop calling it feminism.  I’m not saying that you believe misandry is a thing, but perhaps maybe pretty please read this article.

http://www.autostraddle.com/helpful-advice-for-talking-to-men-who-think-misandry-is-a-thing-170632/

(Source: gastroclon)

I write everything many times over. All my thoughts are second thoughts.
theparisreview:

Ernest Hemingway on his sixtieth birthday.

theparisreview:

Ernest Hemingway on his sixtieth birthday.

I have spent many years trying to recover a common language, one that can cross the distance between people.
The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.
thecaptains-steaz:

katnisstiel:

imacatmiaow:

blue-blooded-girl:

redmaynethecolorofdesire:

fan-troll:

neeble:

ssteampunkachu:

shockabsorbant:

nossidami:

This is a real dinosaur foot.


It still amazes me that these things were REAL and that we’re finding things like this. Skeletons are one thing but this foot is freaking wild.

tHIS IS REALLY COOL OK

Here’s the source, for anyone who’s doubting it.

holy s



I want a freaking dinosaur claw

I’m glad that the last thing this dinosaur did was flip the bird at some other dinosaur 

THIS IS THE COOLEST FUCKING THING I’VE EVER SEEN
OH MY CHRIST
THIS IS AN ACTUAL DINOSAUR FOOT WITH SKIN ON IT
FUCK
I NEED TIME TO TAKE THIS IN
I LOVE DINOSAURS

DA FUCKKKKK

Ooookay. Sorry. I really am, because I got genuinely excited about this, and I’m also sure that there are a ton of other posts debasing this as well, but here goes:
You are correct. That is a well-preserved megalapteryx didinus foot. However, that species, belonging to a family commonly known as moa containing eight other species, lived from approximately the Miocene Era (23 - 5 million years ago) and about 1400-1500 CE. Dinosaurs, on the other hand, existed from the Triassic Period (230 mya) to the Cretaceous Period (66 mya). These time periods do not overlap. Some people consider birds to be dinosaurs, which makes sense as birds evolved from dinosaurs. However, the creatures we normally think of as dinosaurs do not include moa. They were separated by at least 43 million years. This is a preserved piece of a creature evolved from a dinosaur that is now extinct, and it is really fucking cool. 
But it’s not a dinosaur.

(This is from the wikipedia entry on Upland Moas, the species that the foot actually comes from.)

thecaptains-steaz:

katnisstiel:

imacatmiaow:

blue-blooded-girl:

redmaynethecolorofdesire:

fan-troll:

neeble:

ssteampunkachu:

shockabsorbant:

nossidami:

This is a real dinosaur foot.

image

It still amazes me that these things were REAL and that we’re finding things like this. Skeletons are one thing but this foot is freaking wild.

tHIS IS REALLY COOL OK

Here’s the source, for anyone who’s doubting it.

holy s

image

I want a freaking dinosaur claw

I’m glad that the last thing this dinosaur did was flip the bird at some other dinosaur 

THIS IS THE COOLEST FUCKING THING I’VE EVER SEEN

OH MY CHRIST

THIS IS AN ACTUAL DINOSAUR FOOT WITH SKIN ON IT

FUCK

I NEED TIME TO TAKE THIS IN

I LOVE DINOSAURS

DA FUCKKKKK

Ooookay. Sorry. I really am, because I got genuinely excited about this, and I’m also sure that there are a ton of other posts debasing this as well, but here goes:

You are correct. That is a well-preserved megalapteryx didinus foot. However, that species, belonging to a family commonly known as moa containing eight other species, lived from approximately the Miocene Era (23 - 5 million years ago) and about 1400-1500 CE. Dinosaurs, on the other hand, existed from the Triassic Period (230 mya) to the Cretaceous Period (66 mya). These time periods do not overlap. Some people consider birds to be dinosaurs, which makes sense as birds evolved from dinosaurs. However, the creatures we normally think of as dinosaurs do not include moa. They were separated by at least 43 million years. This is a preserved piece of a creature evolved from a dinosaur that is now extinct, and it is really fucking cool. 

But it’s not a dinosaur.

(This is from the wikipedia entry on Upland Moas, the species that the foot actually comes from.)

sometimes there is in every breath
a soft sinking muscular ache
in the pits of a stomach, reminiscent of
a mucous-soaked gasp of clean air
after letting years of weight stored up
in trapezium flow up a slightly
sooty spinal column and out through
the chimney hole

into a dirty summer breeze that swirls
so arrogantly that it must know
how lovely it is to be only guessed at, shoving
peonies through the curtains
and making sure that pages of sad
books smell sweeter, at least, before
they are temptingly brought up
from that piteous basement
with a sweet touch
of a few fingerpads

onto the front stoop where a
fresh abdomen will pause to
peruse leafs odoring not quite shy of
sickening, but oozing safety
all the same, the kind that knocks and bows
and laughs with a little shake
of a black-coated brush over a shoulder and
sweeps the chimney out into
the parlour.