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@bitterwhitter

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@bitterwhitter our sisters they fly

hey guys im hungry should i order some wings

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@bitterwhitter i fucking love this. this is how i think of u in my head.

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this literally means viscosity, opacity, or genuine thickness in old english 

why does old english look like shitposting

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i literally can’t stop thinking about this video and i lose it every time

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@bitterwhitter

so imagine you’re making ratatouille and you don’t like tomatoes. you don’t like the taste, the texture, the putting them in the water and the peeling them - eugh! so you say to yourself “lookit, this whole dish is nothing but vegetables, so what does it matter if i leave the tomatoes out?” a seemingly innocuous decision on the surface, but 2 hours or whatever later when you’re done cooking, you open the oven to find a complete mess! just a pot full of baked vegetables, none of them congealed or somehow unified. what happened to your beloved ratatouille? so you take to google and find that actually the tomatoes are an essential ingredient of ratatouille, as they form a “sauce” of a certain kind that makes the whole thing work. and so a seemingly innocent decision has destroyed the very foundation of the established order with disturbing ramifications towards the whole. in this essay i will examine how martin luther’s 95 theses lead to protestants being more boring than catholics

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Not many photos of my school, so I thought I’d share! It snowed a lot yesterday on campus and it looks v nice. :) 

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see i dont even use caps lock. i just press shift down the whole time. thats how you know im gay

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i literally can’t stop thinking about this video and i lose it every time

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@bitterwhitter

I can’t do justice to one of the weirdest camp stories I know. My friend tells it so well, and I can offer only a pale shadow of his story.

Last summer, he was working with one of the younger units comprised of ten year old boys. They had spent the night camping on another beach and were just readying themselves to depart. “Make sure you have all your things!” called my friend. “Don’t leave anything behind!”

One small boy came up, dragging a massive tangle of decomposing seaweed behind him. “But… what about me boy?” he asked, lip trembling.

“…what is ‘me boy’?”

The child held up the stinking wad of bull kelp. “This is him. This is Me Boy.”

“Me Boy is not coming back with us,” said his counselor. “You’re going to leave Me Boy behind on the beach where he belongs.”

The campers loudly mourned the loss of Me Boy. They insisted on giving him a Viking burial at sea, which just consisted of pushing him solemnly off the back of the rowboat into the water and watching him drift away in the surf.

That was only the beginning. Me Boy would be back.

The campers, in true camp fashion, possessed some kind of cultic hive-mind and a predisposition for bizarre memes. Me Boy would not be forgotten. They started telling each other stories about Me Boy and how he would one day rise again. There were warring factions with contradicting dogmas about Me Boy. Only when the gardener allowed them to take home a zucchini she had harvested did they find their god, born anew.

Me Boy, The Zucchini That Was A God, became the whole unit’s mascot. The kids would bicker over who got to carry him. They built nests and carriers for Me Boy and brought him to different activities, fiercely defending him from those that would do him harm. One child appointed himself the Voice of Me Boy and would translate the zucchini’s divine wishes into human speech.

It got out of hand. Me Boy had become a distraction, a fixation, a violent controversy. Something had to be done.

My friend, their counselor, took it upon himself to kill Me Boy. The children wailed in despair as he chopped their God into refreshing slices. With this sudden turn of fortune, followers of Me Boy turned to theophagy. “We must eat him to preserve his power!” they cried. Boys who would otherwise never have touched a vegetable ate greedily of this sacrament, eager to let Me Boy live on within them.

For a time, it seemed that peace and order had been restored, and the religion had already faded into its silver age. But only for a time.

In the last few days of camp, the religion of Me Boy splintered into several denominations. Every meal yielded new vegetable matter said to be a reincarnation of Me Boy, only for opposing groups to dismiss these as false prophets. Some believed that Me Boy was gone. Others believed his spirit lived on, intangible, omnipresent. Some believed he had found a new vessel inside a carrot, a pear, a slice of cantaloupe… even inside a child. There was chaos, and strife, and heartbreak without the guidance of Me Boy.

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even in the 19th century BCE people we’re complaining that there was no originality left

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@bitterwhitter

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@bitterwhitter

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Everyday Scenes Imbued With Surreal Mystery by Photographer Brooke Didonato

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@bitterwhitter