Reblog this post - ONLY once per blog! - and then you’re entered to win… a dozen donuts??Yes, once again fredflare.com is gonna overnight you a dozen donuts from my fave NYC spot The Doughnut Plant.
And, what the heck, I’m also gonna throw in a $50 gift certificate to fredflare.com
I’ll pick winner on 2/10. Good luck! xo, Keith
Merry Christmas from Chris and I! :D
Me this summer basically,haha
(Source: litmajorlemur)
Amadi Talks: Siri Failures, Illustrated -
The recent illustrations of Siri, the iPhone 4S voice-recognition based assistant, failing to provide information to users about abortion, birth control, help after rape and help with domestic violence has gotten a lot of notice. Yesterday’s post with screenshots from a Twitter conversation I was…
I honestly can not wait until next semester. My classes sound so freaking interesting. I’m taking :
Magic Rights and Rituals- my last required anthro course :(
Kurt Vonnegut single author- my department of English requires one course on an author
Dystopia in literature and film- So many interesting books and films, I can’t wait!
Pronunciation and Intention- a French course
Astronomy- my BA science requirement.
All I have left before I can graduate is 6 hours of pre-1800 literature, and one general elective. How crazy.
I just feel like posting a picture of how freaking cute my boyfriend looked the other day helping me with the book sale.
So gosh darn cute!
(via toriandrelativedimensionsinspace)
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be
lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
Relevant to my life because I just spent the weekend reading Foucault, haha
(Source: feministryangosling)
I can’t do it!
(Source: ksica, via thisisgallifrey)
One of my favorite pictures from last night! Ziggy Stardust, me as a leopard, and Chris as my zookeeper/animal handler :)