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Nov. 5th, 2016
via http://ift.tt/2fqUFhs:
sonnywortzik:
The hour when earth betrays us.
The hour when wind blows from extinguished stars.
The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us.
The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours.
No one feels good at four in the morning.
[…] And let five o'clock come
if we’re to go on living.
— Wislawa Szymborska, from “Four in the Morning,” A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry (Mariner Books, 1998)
sonnywortzik:
The hour when earth betrays us.
The hour when wind blows from extinguished stars.
The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us.
The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours.
No one feels good at four in the morning.
[…] And let five o'clock come
if we’re to go on living.
— Wislawa Szymborska, from “Four in the Morning,” A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry (Mariner Books, 1998)
via http://ift.tt/2fF9HoA:
casey-neistats:
What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient… highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere.
casey-neistats:
What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient… highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere.
via http://ift.tt/2eJh9u2:
theroseandthebeast:
sebastiansource:
Sebastian Stan attends the New York premiere of Jane Eyre at the Tribeca Grand Hotel on March 9, 2011 in New York City.
theroseandthebeast:
sebastiansource:
Sebastian Stan attends the New York premiere of Jane Eyre at the Tribeca Grand Hotel on March 9, 2011 in New York City.
via http://ift.tt/2ez5EI6:
pvwitch:
memelordrevan:
rosslynpaladin:
iamthethunder:
s8yrboy:
“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”
We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”
Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.
Or, backing up FURTHER
and lots of people think this very likely,
“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”
The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.
To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science) indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.
Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.
Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.
And confirmed something very deep for me.
pvwitch:
memelordrevan:
rosslynpaladin:
iamthethunder:
s8yrboy:
“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”
We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”
Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.
Or, backing up FURTHER
and lots of people think this very likely,
“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”
The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.
To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science) indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.
Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.
Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.
And confirmed something very deep for me.
via http://ift.tt/2ezwEHr:
“Where have you been all this time? Were you off somewhere singing, putting cats to sleep on the porch, drifting about in the rapids of time, the glow of the morning sun and the rain of a summer afternoon beating down as you pass by, your lips shut tight like a bloodsucking plant? The me that is nowhere to be found now, the me that will turn to ash and vanish, turn to darkness and rot—that me extends a squalid hand at the final moment of this crash, having entirely deserted and abandoned my life.”
- Bae Suah, from Nowhere to Be Found tr. Sora Kim-Russell
(via lifeinpoetry)
“Where have you been all this time? Were you off somewhere singing, putting cats to sleep on the porch, drifting about in the rapids of time, the glow of the morning sun and the rain of a summer afternoon beating down as you pass by, your lips shut tight like a bloodsucking plant? The me that is nowhere to be found now, the me that will turn to ash and vanish, turn to darkness and rot—that me extends a squalid hand at the final moment of this crash, having entirely deserted and abandoned my life.”
- Bae Suah, from Nowhere to Be Found tr. Sora Kim-Russell
(via lifeinpoetry)
via http://ift.tt/2f4YFr5:
jakegyllonhaal:
when im having a good time listening to music from the 2000′s and reliving fun memories associated with the songs and then it hits me that i’m getting further and further away from the points at which those songs came out and that i’m never going to be able to go back in time to those days and instead im just slowly getting sadder and older
jakegyllonhaal:
when im having a good time listening to music from the 2000′s and reliving fun memories associated with the songs and then it hits me that i’m getting further and further away from the points at which those songs came out and that i’m never going to be able to go back in time to those days and instead im just slowly getting sadder and older
