| — | In which I get frustrated and plead with authors « Bookavore (via notemily) (via abbyjean) (via rakalak) |
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lavenderlines reblogged rakalak:“Please, for the love of Pete, STOP only mentioning the race of a character if that race is not white. I know you are trying to embrace diversity and create a more realistic world, but the fact of the matter is this. If I meet five characters (say, your main character, her mom, her sister, her best friend, and her other best friend) and you describe them but DON’T mention their race, and that is followed in the next few chapters by a black teacher, or a cute boy who’s Hispanic, that doesn’t prove to me that you embrace diversity. It proves to me that you assume all characters are white unless otherwise announced; that white is, in other words, the default race in your fictional world and by extension, the world in general.”
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Come home, come home.. it's suppertime
Some of the fondest memories of my childhood centered around suppertime, when I’d hear my mother call out from the back steps of the old home place “Come on home now, son, it’s suppertime”. My how I’d like to hear that sound once again. But you know, time has woven together a realization that I will hear it again, and pretty soon as I’m called to gather around the supper table up there. I can almost hear the sound already as God calls out from the gates of Heaven “Come on home, son, it’s suppertime. Come home, come home, it’s suppertime …the shadows lengthen fast, and I’m going home at last…
I’ll see you up at the house.
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Who are the Silvesters? How do they know the Reagans? Did they manage to visit Hamilton? History offers up such sweet mysteries.
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the return
After my sabbatical, I expected a certain amount of culture shock when I started commuting in rush hour Atlanta traffic and working in an office again. I haven’t been disappointed. This was probably not the best time to watch an extended The Office marathon, but the season two and three dvds have been on hold at the library for a long time and they finally showed up. Pretending that I am making a documentary about an overlooked subculture has actually been a fun and helpful exercise as I adjust to the new environment.
Some fun things that have happened in the last two weeks include: meeting some cool new people, unlocking a door with a scan of my retina, reading about the building where I work on the national register of historic places, drinking a cup of Jet-Fuel brand coffee, firing an N-STRIKE Raider CS-35 and an N-STRIKE Vulcan EB-25, and tracking the appearances of a cool ski mask tag.
I can’t wait to see what happens next week.
(image via The Office)
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faulkner’s typewriter
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alinasmith reblogged everythinginthesky:
everythinginthesky: michaelrundle:
In September of 1967 a 20-year-old David Bowie was so enthused to receive his first American fan letter that he immediately typed out a reply from the office of his manager, Kenneth Pitt. This is that letter.
Okay, that does it. I love him forever now.
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tess08 reblogged fuckyeahbangkok:
(via fuckyeahbangkok)
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Stop what you are doing and watch the video feed of the dissection of HM’s brain.
If you don’t know who HM is, here’s the basic history: HM was a man who got very sick, and as a result, his hippocamus was destroyed. The brain damage left him unable to form new declarative memories. He would forget where he was, how he had gotten there, who he was talking to, and everything about the context he was in- every single time he woke up or the conversation changed. He is probably the most amnesiac person to ever live.
HM is in every into psych text book, and there’ve been countless documentaries about his incredible case. Though he could never be aware of the massive contribution he made to science, anyone with a love for psychology can appreciate it.
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