Nº. 1 of  278

But where, then, was the Supreme Caress?

Sarah. twittah.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
"Respect the delicate ecology of your delusions."

brightwalldarkroom:

"Much has been made of her physical appearance, but in truth beauty in cinema is really not skin deep. The camera is ruthless and instantly exposes both the shallow and the callow. But it also embraces the thinkers. Catherine Deneuve is always thinking."
—James Grey

brightwalldarkroom:

"Much has been made of her physical appearance, but in truth beauty in cinema is really not skin deep. The camera is ruthless and instantly exposes both the shallow and the callow. But it also embraces the thinkers. Catherine Deneuve is always thinking."

—James Grey

likeapairofbottlerockets:

Cassandra Edelstein was the only Jewish to ever attend American Eagles.

<3 <3 <3

(Source: gotochelm)

bought a slutty cutout crop top and snake earrings and i have a date so today is a “i’m such hot shit” day as opposed to a “literally no one should look at me” day which seem to be the only two modes of self-image self-esteem i have

also i was going through selfie withdrawal. hi.

ursulavernon:

peoplemask:

carnivaloftherandom:

meloromantics:

appropriately-inappropriate:

audreyvhorne:

sttinkerbelle:

vmpolung:

knowledgeandlove:

Photo source
Fact check source

#and I just don’t feel entitled to someone else’s life’s work.

That comment exactly!! It’s not mine and I can survive without it, so I will.

This is why honey is not vegan.

The problem here is that honey, especially if you buy it ethically from an apiarist, isn’t actually detrimental to the well-being of the bee or the hive. In the wild, honey is used as a food stock, but in a domesticated honeybee colony, the bees are fed quite well, and so the honey is a surplus.
The alternatives, like sugar, relies on monocrops in third world countries, with transient labour. Growing up, there was a sugarcane field by my house, and I’m sure the Haitian men who worked backbreaking hours hacking a machete through knife-bladed leaves in 40 degree heat for a couple dollars a day would have traded a testicle to be a Canadian honeybee. Stevia’s going the same way, iirc.
Additionally, apiarists are actually huge proponents and activists for sustainable bee-keeping, and it’s estimated that the domesticated hive may be the last great hope for declining populations, because we can optimize their chances for survival.
It’s their life’s work, sure, but it’s not the death of them to use it responsibly.

literally read anything about the history of sugarcane and the cuban sugar industry if you think sugar is or ever has been more ethical than honey

Hell, read up on the Haitian revolution(s) or sugar cane production in the US from the 1800s-present.
Look, be vegan, because: you do you. Just don’t be a lying, unscientific dick about it.

*rubs face with hands*

Somewhere, an aging worker addresses a tumble of bright-skinned larvae. “Those gardens you’ll visit? Each one is the result of a single sloth-like hominid, working for thousands of bee lifetimes in service to the flowers that feed us.”
"No way!" chorus the larvae, who are all female.
"It’s true," says the worker, who is venerable at over two months old. "No one knows how long they live. We believe there are some over a decade old." (The larvae gasp.) "But they have very poor vision and can only see a couple of shades of blue, and they live very widely spaced. Be kind to them. They are probably very lonely creatures."
…a lifetime’s work is relative, after all.

ursulavernon:

peoplemask:

carnivaloftherandom:

meloromantics:

appropriately-inappropriate:

audreyvhorne:

sttinkerbelle:

vmpolung:

knowledgeandlove:

Photo source

Fact check source

#and I just don’t feel entitled to someone else’s life’s work.

That comment exactly!! It’s not mine and I can survive without it, so I will.

This is why honey is not vegan.

The problem here is that honey, especially if you buy it ethically from an apiarist, isn’t actually detrimental to the well-being of the bee or the hive. In the wild, honey is used as a food stock, but in a domesticated honeybee colony, the bees are fed quite well, and so the honey is a surplus.

The alternatives, like sugar, relies on monocrops in third world countries, with transient labour. Growing up, there was a sugarcane field by my house, and I’m sure the Haitian men who worked backbreaking hours hacking a machete through knife-bladed leaves in 40 degree heat for a couple dollars a day would have traded a testicle to be a Canadian honeybee. Stevia’s going the same way, iirc.

Additionally, apiarists are actually huge proponents and activists for sustainable bee-keeping, and it’s estimated that the domesticated hive may be the last great hope for declining populations, because we can optimize their chances for survival.

It’s their life’s work, sure, but it’s not the death of them to use it responsibly.

literally read anything about the history of sugarcane and the cuban sugar industry if you think sugar is or ever has been more ethical than honey

Hell, read up on the Haitian revolution(s) or sugar cane production in the US from the 1800s-present.

Look, be vegan, because: you do you. Just don’t be a lying, unscientific dick about it.

*rubs face with hands*

Somewhere, an aging worker addresses a tumble of bright-skinned larvae. “Those gardens you’ll visit? Each one is the result of a single sloth-like hominid, working for thousands of bee lifetimes in service to the flowers that feed us.”

"No way!" chorus the larvae, who are all female.

"It’s true," says the worker, who is venerable at over two months old. "No one knows how long they live. We believe there are some over a decade old." (The larvae gasp.) "But they have very poor vision and can only see a couple of shades of blue, and they live very widely spaced. Be kind to them. They are probably very lonely creatures."

…a lifetime’s work is relative, after all.

(via ganbattemotherfucker)

howtocatchamonster:

A lot of actors act intelligent, but Philip was the real thing: a shining, artistic polymath with an intelligence that came at you like a pair of headlights and enveloped you from the moment he grabbed your hand, put a huge arm round your neck and shoved a cheek against yours; or if the mood took him, hugged you to him like a big, pudgy schoolboy, then stood and beamed at you while he took stock of the effect.
 Philip took vivid stock of everything, all the time. It was painful and exhausting work, and probably in the end his undoing. The world was too bright for him to handle. He had to screw up his eyes or be dazzled to death. Like Chatterton, he went seven times round the moon to your one, and every time he set off, you were never sure he’d come back, which is what I believe somebody said about the German poet Hölderlin: Whenever he left the room, you were afraid you’d seen the last of him. And if that sounds like wisdom after the event, it isn’t. Philip was burning himself out before your eyes. Nobody could live at his pace and stay the course, and in bursts of startling intimacy he needed you to know it. 
No actor had ever made quite the impact on me that Philip did at that first encounter: not Richard Burton, not Burt Lancaster or even Alec Guinness. Philip greeted me as if he’d been waiting to meet me all his life, which I suspect was how he greeted everyone. But I’d been waiting to meet Philip for a long time. I reckoned his “Capote” the best single performance I’d seen on screen. But I didn’t dare tell him that, because there’s always a danger with actors, when you tell them how great they were nine years ago, that they demand to know what’s been wrong with their performances ever since. 
There was a problem about accents. We had really good German actors who spoke English with a German accent. Collective wisdom dictated, not necessarily wisely, that Philip should do the same. For the first few minutes of listening to him, I thought, “Crikey.” No German I knew spoke English like this. He did a mouth thing, a kind of pout. He seemed to kiss his lines rather than speak them. Then gradually he did what only the greatest actors can do. He made his voice the only authentic one, the lonely one, the odd one out, the one you depended on amid all the others. And every time it left the stage, like the great man himself, you waited for its return with impatience and mounting unease. 
We shall wait a long time for another Philip. - John le Carré (X)

howtocatchamonster:

A lot of actors act intelligent, but Philip was the real thing: a shining, artistic polymath with an intelligence that came at you like a pair of headlights and enveloped you from the moment he grabbed your hand, put a huge arm round your neck and shoved a cheek against yours; or if the mood took him, hugged you to him like a big, pudgy schoolboy, then stood and beamed at you while he took stock of the effect.

Philip took vivid stock of everything, all the time. It was painful and exhausting work, and probably in the end his undoing. The world was too bright for him to handle. He had to screw up his eyes or be dazzled to death. Like Chatterton, he went seven times round the moon to your one, and every time he set off, you were never sure he’d come back, which is what I believe somebody said about the German poet Hölderlin: Whenever he left the room, you were afraid you’d seen the last of him. And if that sounds like wisdom after the event, it isn’t. Philip was burning himself out before your eyes. Nobody could live at his pace and stay the course, and in bursts of startling intimacy he needed you to know it.

No actor had ever made quite the impact on me that Philip did at that first encounter: not Richard Burton, not Burt Lancaster or even Alec Guinness. Philip greeted me as if he’d been waiting to meet me all his life, which I suspect was how he greeted everyone. But I’d been waiting to meet Philip for a long time. I reckoned his “Capote” the best single performance I’d seen on screen. But I didn’t dare tell him that, because there’s always a danger with actors, when you tell them how great they were nine years ago, that they demand to know what’s been wrong with their performances ever since.

There was a problem about accents. We had really good German actors who spoke English with a German accent. Collective wisdom dictated, not necessarily wisely, that Philip should do the same. For the first few minutes of listening to him, I thought, “Crikey.” No German I knew spoke English like this. He did a mouth thing, a kind of pout. He seemed to kiss his lines rather than speak them. Then gradually he did what only the greatest actors can do. He made his voice the only authentic one, the lonely one, the odd one out, the one you depended on amid all the others. And every time it left the stage, like the great man himself, you waited for its return with impatience and mounting unease.

We shall wait a long time for another Philip. - John le Carré (X)

(via goddamnmaxi-pad)

oh my god

i’m so tired

all the time

Persona (1966)

My words mean nothing to you. People like you can’t be reached. I wonder whether your madness isn’t the worst kind. You act healthy, act it so well that everyone believes you, everyone except me, because I know how rotten you are.

Dir. Ingmar Bergman

(Source: downstreamcolor, via fuckyeahexistentialism)

whatwouldsaulalinskydo:

the coroner’s gambit + us gov’t photo archives

(via jacketry)

NEW YORKERS OF TUMBLR

a few hours ago i got a call from a number, 716 598 2872, with two men on the other line. they said there had been an accident, my dad damaged their car, they had him hostage (bound and gagged) with a gun to his head and i needed to send them $2,000 immediately or they would shoot him. i couldn’t hang up the phone either, or they would shoot him. i asked to speak to him and they said i could when i transferred them the money. i said “i don’t have $2,000, how’s $300” and they accepted that pretty quickly, which seemed like a decent indicator that it was scammy.

via fb messaging i got in touch with a good friend, who got in touch with my sister, and the two of them contacted the police and my dad, where i learned that a) my dad was fine and sitting in his apartment writing, and b) this has been happening to a bunch of people around new york, always with the same story about an accident and a kidnapping.

SO if this happens to you, know what’s up. i can’t remember the last time i was so terrified and it was extremely unpleasant, so i guess let people know that this is happening/if it happens to you know that everything is probably ok

Nº. 1 of  278