The binding on our copy of The Cottage Bee Keeper (New York, 1851) truly is the bee’s knees! #PublishersBindingThursday
I came out to my mom as ace almost three years ago and she hasnt mentioned it till today
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This is what Rasputin would've wanted.
I feel like I'm being seduced like one of those fancy rainforest birds
is it working
Yes
I can’t tell if this is gender envy or vibe envy but I envy this man
this needs to be a meme format solely because knowing the context of the original makes anything you put in the first box 100x funnier
daily reminder that there is absolutely nothing normal about being expected to waste a majority of your life at a corporation to survive instead of indulging in better life experiences ✨
In the 1960s it was a common speculation that by 1980 the typical work week would consist of 4 days. And by the year 2000 we’d be working no more than 3 days a week.
Because of computerization, automation, and better efficiencies in workflow.
Guess what happened instead?
hey yeah uh why on fucking EARTH does the hand sanitizer machine in this bathroom make the law and order sound
“My husband, photographer Michael Nye, once photographed in a West Bank Palestinian refugee camp for days, and was followed around by a little girl who wanted him to photograph her. Finally, he did — and she held up a stone with a poem etched into it. (This picture appears on the cover of my collection of poems, 19 Varieties of Gazelle — Poems of the Middle East). Through a translator, Michael understood that the poem was ‘her poem’ — that’s what she called it. We urged my dad to translate the verse, which sounded vaguely familiar, but without checking roundly enough, we quoted the translation on the book flap and said she had written the verse. Quickly, angry scholars wrote to me pointing out that the verse was from a famous Darwish poem. I felt terrible. I was meeting him for the first and last time the next week. Handing over the copy of the book sheepishly, I said: ‘Please forgive our mistake. If this book ever gets reprinted, I promise we will give the proper credit for the verse.’ He stared closely at the picture. Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Don’t correct it,’ he said. ‘It is the goal of my life to write poems that are claimed by children.’”
— Naomi Shihab Nye, from her essay “Remembering Mahmoud Darwish” (via weltenwellen)
January 20, 2021
I hate that I fully understand this
I’ve just seen this post three times in a row on my feed
uhmblebee