aldieb - Tumblr blog

[aldieb]

“You’re the opposite of me then. I remember everything – even the things I never knew.”

[aldieb]

[aldieb]

the smallest church in saint-saëns - favourite disco elysium moments

[aldieb]

the natural numbers are all integers from 1 to infinity, except 19 which has a relatively short half-life of 4.21 million years and is thus not found on earth

[aldieb]

Evening By The Pond

by Jan Schmuckal

[aldieb]

Marielda Burns. An illustration made for Friends at the Table, it was released as part of their Spring 2024 merch collection as both a shirt and poster.

[aldieb]

no but the trigun brainworms are still propagating. woof playlist

[aldieb]

i can’t vote in that “do you think you’re cooler online or irl” poll going around because today i met @boudiccabeautiful in meatspace (a delight!) and we talked about books the whole time (with the topic significantly biased toward wot). like any other good piece of software, i offer a consistent experience across platforms

[aldieb]

suddenly scared bc if you are a person things can hurt you. when i had missing bits a lot of the things that could’ve hurt me passed through the holes instead, thus doing minimal damage, but i currently present a contiguous hittable target. i feel like it should be allowed that i could yell “scatter!” to cue the various glued-together pieces to scurry safely away in different directions

[aldieb]

First rule of reincarnation is to have insane sex with the guy who killed you last time

[aldieb]

“I, too, feel the need to reread the books I have already read,“ a third reader says, “but at every rereading I seem to be reading a new book, for the first time. Is it I who keep changing and seeing new things of which I was not previously aware? Or is reading a construction that assumes form, assembling a great number of variables, and therefore something that cannot be repeated twice according to the same pattern? Every time I seek to relive the emotion of a previous reading, I experience different and unexpected impressions, and do not find again those of before. At certain moments it seems to me that between one reading and the next there is a progression: in the sense, for example, of penetrating further into the spirit of the text, or of increasing my critical detachment. At other moments, on the contrary, I seem to retain the memory of the readings of a single book one next to another, enthusiastic or cold or hostile, scattered in time without a perspective, without a thread that ties them together. The conclusion I have reached is that reading is an operation without object; or that its true object is itself. The book is an accessory aid, or even a pretext.”

— Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler

[aldieb]

Sims, North Dakota

[aldieb]

literally hate how lgbtq ppl are constantly asking "am i valid?" "is this a valid way to be?" every 5 seconds. girl idk what to tell you but if you live your life seeking validation from others your self-image will always exist at their mercy. you gotta get some self-respect and stop begging others to validate you

[aldieb]

i can’t vote in that “do you think you’re cooler online or irl” poll going around because today i met @boudiccabeautiful in meatspace (a delight!) and we talked about books the whole time (with the topic significantly biased toward wot). like any other good piece of software, i offer a consistent experience across platforms

[aldieb]

[aldieb]

Amedee Guillemin, Le Ciel, 1877. Shower of Andromedids, Nov 27th 1872, seen over France

Scan from New Scientist

[aldieb]

A story of amazing poetic pettiness recounted by Peter Shillingsburg in his book Resisting Texts:

"Take the case of two poems by the Tasmanian poet Gwen Harwood, 'Eloisa to Abelard' and 'Abelard to Eloisa,' published under the pseudonym Walter Lehmann in the Bulletin (a Sydney literary magazine) on 5 August 1961. Several years ago an Australian friend gave me a copy of these poems and told the following story: the author had already published under the same pseudonym in the Bulletin and had written a bitter complaint to the editor that her poem was distorted in publication by having all lines pushed over flush left, destroying, thereby, significant levels of indentation. The editor replied that the column format influenced the policy, which was applied indiscriminately to all Bulletin poetry. According to my informant, Harwood then wrote and submitted the two poems reproduced here. She submitted them, it was said, with varying degrees of indentation, and the editors predictably and indiscriminately 'suppressed' the author's intentions by printing all lines flush left--creating, thereby, the 'inadvertent' acrostic message, readable vertically down the left column: 'So long Bulletin. Fuck all editors.' From that story I concluded that texts are not agentless."

The poems, as they appeared in the Bulletin: