Viewers also enjoyed hating themselves, rug burns on their eyeballs, and “I, Frankenstein”

#movies #Writing #fail #glasses

Weekend reading. What are
You reading?
#books #reading

saturdaychores:

Saturday Chores #7, Saturday, July 19, 2014

When we arrived, the “Babies Are Murdered Here” people put away all their signs, stopped yelling at the people going into the clinic, and prayed for “Grayson’s wife.” Victory. 

ohryankelley:

This new Spoon track is perfect.

I concur

(via laughterkey)

Profiles in not wanting any more pictures tonight #cat #books

Profiles in exhaustion

#books #shelfies #cat

micdotcom:

Salem mayor has put her money where her mouth is over local college’s LBGT bigotry

Earlier this summer, Kim Driscoll, the first female mayor of Salem, Mass., pulled funding from Gordon College, a small, Christian liberal arts school located outside Boston. The school had cosponsored a letter to President Obama asking for a religious exemption to his executive order to end employment discrimination based on sexual orientation. 

What Mayor Kim Driscoll did about it | Follow micdotcom

(via laughterkey)

Turning 3 tomorrow.
#cat #birthday

bookavore:

catshatereading:

Ernest hates Summertime, All the Cats are Bored by Philippe Georget.

(submitted by kalenski)

Possibly the best submission I’ve gotten for this tumblr.

I can only hope this is a Pocket mistake

explore-blog:

If you read one thing today, make it this fantastic vintage gem on the art of self-renewal, even timelier half a century later in our age of blind productivity.

In an alternate universe I’m trying to find the right quotation to convince Maria Popova to marry me, but she’s already seen them all

“Woolf often conceives of life this way: as a gift that you’ve been given, which you must hold onto and treasure but never open. Opening it would dispel the atmosphere, ruin the radiance—and the radiance of life is what makes it worth living. It’s hard to say just what holding onto life without looking at it might mean; that’s one of the puzzles of her books. But it has something to do with preserving life’s mystery; with leaving certain things undescribed, unspecified, and unknown; with savoring certain emotions, such as curiosity, surprise, desire, and anticipation. It depends on an intensified sense of life’s preciousness and fragility, and on a Heisenberg-like notion that, when it comes to our most abstract and spiritual intuitions, looking too closely changes what we feel. It has to do, in other words, with a kind of inner privacy, by means of which you shield yourself not just from others’ prying eyes, but from your own. Call it an artist’s sense of privacy.”

Joshua Rothman's New Yorker essay on Virginia Woolf’s idea of privacy is the best thing I’ve read in ages. 

It rings especially poignant in the context of her own conflicted inner life, from her exuberant appreciation of the world’s beauty to her intense capacity for love to the deathly despair of her suicide letter.

Do yourself a favor and read Rothman’s full essay here.

(via explore-blog)