“Don’t trust charming. Why? Because the boy who can talk all the right words knows it too well. Things like boys and love aren’t meant to be practiced like that, it should be a bit awkward- it should be raw.”—The best advice I’ve ever received. (via perfect)
girl fact #285: makeup gives us super human strength. if you see a girl with perfect winged eyeliner and red lipstick, approach with caution. she’s got the power to slay her enemies with one look and use their blood as blush.
In my experience, writers tend to be really good at the inside of their own heads and imaginary people, and a lot less good at the stuff going on outside, which means that quite often if you flirt with us we will completely fail to notice, leaving everybody involved slightly uncomfortable and more than slightly unlaid.
So I would suggest that any attempted seduction of a writer would probably go a great deal easier for all parties if you sent them a cheerful note saying “YOU ARE INVITED TO A SEDUCTION: Please come to dinner on Friday Night. Wear the kind of clothes you would like to be seduced in.”
And alcohol may help, too. Or kissing. Many writers figure out that they’re being seduced or flirted with if someone is actually kissing them.
IF YOU SAY YOU LIKE READING BUT YOU CHOOSE TO BUY A KINDLE OVER AN ACTUAL PHYSICAL BOOK THEN I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO COME INTO YOUR HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND WAKE YOU UP AND HUG YOU SO HARD AND MAYBE WE CAN PAINT OUR NAILS TOGETHER AND TALK ABOUT OUR FAVOURITE BOOKS BECAUSE READING IS A WONDERFUL THING AND THE MAGIC IS IN THE WORDS SO WE SHOULD NEVER LIMIT OURSELVES BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE THINK THEY’RE BETTER THAN YOU FOR THE WAY THEY CHOOSE TO READ
“I like a little whiskey. It’s got the nice burn going down, and then the warm belly. Then I’m invincible, too, that’s also a great thing about it, is that nothing can hurt me and I know everything.”—Paul F. Tompkins (x)
The question I'm using for my dissertation is 'Should there be limits to comedy?' like, should there be any subjects that are off limits and such. It'd be great to hear what you think. Cheers.
Of course there should be limits to comedy! There should be - and are - limits to everything in the world, comedy included.
If jumping wasn’t limited by gravity, people would fly into space and die. If life wasn’t limited by disease and death, our parents wouldn’t have met, because Atilla the Hun would be president, which would have been distracting.
And if everybody was able to be funny any time they wanted, laughing would be like breathing, and jokes wouldn’t be remarkable. If there were no limits on comedy, there would be no comedy, because comedy is essentially something done wrong. You’re not supposed to throw a pie at someone’s face. Pies are for eating, faces are for scowling. A person is supposed to knock on your door with their hand, they’re not supposed to say “knock knock,” and if they do, when you ask who’s there, they should have a name like Mark Johnson, not a long ass sentence. And nobody that owns a baseball team with a guy on first named “Who” should be unprepared for the question “Who’s on first.” They should call him by his first name or call him “Mister Who.”
They should. Technically speaking. There should certainly be limits to comedy.
Because, technically speaking, nothing funny should ever happen.
“One of the most dangerous things, is having a decent day job when you have bigger plans for your life; because you start basing your choices around your income, and not around what’s making you happy.”—Kyle Kinane “Responsibility” episode Deep Shit with Baron Vaughn (via thisghoulknowswhatimtalkingabout)
The Deep Shit podcast helped me fix my fucking life.
Archbishop James Usher (1580-1656) published Annales Veteris et Novi Testaments in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 B.C. One of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., at exactly 9:00 A.M., because God liked to get work done early in the morning while he was feeling fresh.
This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour.
The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke the paleontologists haven’t seen yet.
This proves two things:
Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, [ie., everybody.] to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Secondly, the Earth’s a Libra.
Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Mandatory October 21st post.
Happy birthday, Earth.
Some people point out that it’s Ussher with two S’s. But the Encyclopedia Britannica said it only had one S, so that was how we spelled it.
It’s a feeling of silver—quick to the cut; I stand on a red planet in the shadow of fear. It’s a feeling of burning—stakes being raised; and either action or inaction leads to the haunting. It’s a feeling of hollow—space in my chest; I live in the dark where the warm tones might echo. It’s a feeling of hiding–fog to cut through; I’m a cadence of footfalls on a dimly lit road. It’s a feeling of greatness—gold to be smelted; I’m a golem of ingots at the foot of the forge. It’s a feeling of waiting—of loss before losing; I know that fire would burn if only it’s fed.