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you CANNOT read too much old timey fiction because I was playing Raft with the lads this morning and without a THOUGHT said we could sail over to another island "if the wind would consent to blow" & let me tell you. This did not pass by unremarked.

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I'm so normal about my interests

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"you gotta play with the cards you're dealt" WRONG. i play pot of greed which lets me draw two additional cards from my deck

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just met a three month old pomeranian named horchata. her paw was the size of my fingertip. she looked like half a dandelion fluff

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there’s no way someone else in the dandadan fandom hasn’t already drawn this but i had to roll with the vision when it struck me.

[ID: A Dandadan meme redraw featuring a heart locket that has art of Okarun yelling on one side and the words "my bals" (spelled with only one "L") on the other. End ID]

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baseball in essence is a game about you trying to throw your friend a ball but some asshole wont stop trying to knock your ball as far as fuck away as possible because he's a bad person

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Out here dreaming up posts that are only funny if you are familiar with the plot of the Odyssey, the classic 1870 sci-fi novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, the 2003 film Finding Nemo and also know the Latin word for "no one".

Fortunately this is tumblr and everyone loves stupidly niche jokes. Here is my vision:

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When I (M29) was a young boy (M7) my father (M35) took me into the city (X167) to see a marching band (M23, M21, M22, F22, M24, M25, F21, M

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In those heavy days in June,

When love became an act of defiance.

(A landscape piece combining the colours of my pride flags.)

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once i figure out how to do anatomy and facial expressions and proportion and foreshortening and basic perspective and color theory and composition then youll all be sorry

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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lying to philoctetes to get his special bow doesn't mean i have no morals. in fact i have more morals than the average person, on account of how i have to change them up for various situations. when society needs an honest man then i'll be one. weirdly that's never happened though

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I want to talk to people but if I bother anyone they'll kill me. And I'm pretty bad at starting and continuing conversations

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"backstage at a live event" is perhaps my favourite human collective emotion ive ever experienced. From running through the creepy empty school hallways before a theatre show, to the staff only breakroom at a convention or event where youre running a stall, to the bridal suite getting ready before your bestie walks down the isle.

Theres a little wall between the guys who are 'in on it' with you, whatever it is, and your audience or customers or guests or just all those people who are *not* in on it. Youve got a wallkie talkie, or a backstage pass, or an exhibitor badge, and youve never felt more alive

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(trying to give relationship advice) from a narrative perspective i think both of you dying together would be the most emotionally satisfying resolution but i’m guessing that’s not what you want to hear

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°C stands for Correct temperature and °F stands for Freak temperature

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in the future, we have computers that are basically super effective counting machines, and the counting gets so complex we can use them to communicate and display images and play music. some people make music entirely on a computer. there are these things called vocaloids, which are computerized voices that you can make sing whatever you want, and the companies that make them like to create characters to go along with each voice. this one is named miku. it's a Japanese name. yeah the Japanese will open the country back up eventually. now, we also have these undergarments called binders. they minimize the appearance of breasts and some people find that nice for gender purposes. yeah we've written a lot about the sociological concept of gender since your time. women can vote now too, it's crazy. now stay with me. there's this street in New York city called Broadway that has a ton of theaters on it and it's famous for really big musicals. and one musical is about you and your buddies rapping together. well rap is a type of music black people will invent after we make it illegal to own them. yeah sorry not sorry about that. anyway that's you