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"Bottle" by Kirsten Lepore | also featured in Épisode 79 of the web series “Mon œil” by the Centre Pompidou

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Happiness, by Steve Cutts

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Above all remember, dear, that you have a great opportunity. You are in one of the world’s best schools, in one of the world’s greatest modern empires. Millions of boys and girls all over this world would give almost anything they possess to be where you are. You are there by no desert or merit of yours, but only by lucky chance. Deserve it, then. Study, do your work. Be honest, frank and fearless and get some grasp of the real values of life. You will meet, of course, curious little annoyances. People will wonder at your dear brown and the sweet crinkley hair. But that simply is of no importance and will soon be forgotten. Remember that most folk laugh at anything unusual, whether it is beautiful, fine or not. You, however, must not laugh at yourself. You must know that brown is as pretty as white or prettier and crinkley hair as straight even though it is harder to comb. The main thing is the YOU beneath the clothes and skin — the ability to do, the will to conquer, the determination to understand and know this great, wonderful, curious world. Don’t shrink from new experiences and custom. Take the cold bath bravely. Enter into the spirit of your big bed-room. Enjoy what is and not pine for what is not. Read some good, heavy, serious books just for discipline: Take yourself in hand and master yourself. Make yourself do unpleasant things, so as to gain the upper hand of your soul.

W.E.B. Dubois, in a letter to his daughter Yolande, 1912

from Posterity: Letters by Great Americans to their Children, which is full of such wonderful words like…

…from Albert Einstein to his son: “That is the way to learn the most, that when you are doing something with such enjoyment that you don’t notice that the time passes.”

…or this line in a sweet letter from Sherwood Anderson: “Well, you must know my heart is set on you.” 

<3

reposting from months ago

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😳😍

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strawberry moon The house was filled with the smell of it, the last misshapen, sweet-heavy berries of the season losing their shapes on the stove. The house was filled with the smell of fruit unbecoming, fruit pulled to its knees at fire’s feet. All summer long, the bushes had whispered take me, shown us all the places we could kiss if we wanted. And so, as the light died, we put our mouths on the least lovable, the too-full, the easy-bruised, we shouted, I choose you, and you, and you, and you, and canned that hunger, and spooned it into our mouths on the coldest days.

Perihelion: A History of Touch by Franny Choi | Poetry Magazine

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PUNCTUATION PAYS

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I CAN’T BELIEVE IT BUT THESE WORK!! Or, should I say “!!work these but it believe can’t I” !!!

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He’s just a boy, at 39. It is a medical mystery. Or a great miracle. Perhaps both. Maybe he is even multiple boys, cleverly hidden under an ill-fitting coat.

A 39-year-old man is mysteriously still a ‘kid’ - The Washington Post

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“The world’s love affair with avocados apparently comes with a dark side: rising demand is fueling illegal deforestation in Mexico gringos keep cutting their hands opening them.” LOOLLLLLLL

Hot fire by Andrea Gompf: British People So Bad at Cutting Avocados Surgeons Want to Put Safety Labels On Them

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[on the tenure process:] It’s not even particularly complex. It’s just kinda dull, so it makes terrible television, just as the correctly depicted life of an actual tenured professor (90 percent grading, 10 percent self-loathing about missed deadlines) would be a viewership black hole.

Why All of Hollywood’s Depictions of Professor Tenure Are Ridiculous

lolcatz

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How to Make Pasta from Scratch

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OpticalFlow meets FlipFluids from Prosthetic Knowledge

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lulllllllllz.

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And now it’s Thursday, 3 days later. It’s really time to respond. But you can’t just respond with 6 simple sentences anymore. No no no, that time has come and gone... This is a post-Tuesday world folks. Monday’s 6 sentences will no longer do.

INBOX ESCAPE VELOCITY

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