my pfp. if you even care
god im addicted to machinist youtube i fucking love lathes i need a lathe i need to machine steel
do yuo know any good machinist tumblrs?
these lakes look like boobs with some perspective
It kinda does (I tried)
Have you ever partaken in the flesh of another?
This one shall do nicely.
35 miles, happy 24 hours.
24 miles, 19 hours and ticking.
It's ok, take your time
Hog swill
Might take a minute.
Back on track, 20 miles ~20 hours, might need a medic.
Buddy???
Found the portal, expect my corpse to arrive in 17-20 hours.
What
What the hell
Is that a fish in your pocket or is uyor penis wrigglinh and writhing frantically in the hopesof returning to the sea
Throughout her translation of the “Odyssey,” Wilson has made small but, it turns out, radical changes to the way many key scenes of the epic are presented — “radical” in that, in 400 years of versions of the poem, no translator has made the kinds of alterations Wilson has, changes that go to truing a text that, as she says, has through translation accumulated distortions that affect the way even scholars who read Greek discuss the original. These changes seem, at each turn, to ask us to appreciate the gravity of the events that are unfolding, the human cost of differences of mind.
The first of these changes is in the very first line. You might be inclined to suppose that, over the course of nearly half a millennium, we must have reached a consensus on the English equivalent for an old Greek word, polytropos. But to consult Wilson’s 60 some predecessors, living and dead, is to find that consensus has been hard to come by…
Of the 60 or so answers to the polytropos question to date, the 36 given above [which I cut because there were a lot] couldn’t be less uniform (the two dozen I omit repeat, with minor variations, earlier solutions); what unites them is that their translators largely ignore the ambiguity built into the word they’re translating. Most opt for straightforward assertions of Odysseus’s nature, descriptions running from the positive (crafty, sagacious, versatile) to the negative (shifty, restless, cunning). Only Norgate (“of many a turn”) and Cook (“of many turns”) preserve the Greek roots as Wilson describes them — poly(“many”), tropos (“turn”) — answers that, if you produced them as a student of classics, much of whose education is spent translating Greek and Latin and being marked correct or incorrect based on your knowledge of the dictionary definitions, would earn you an A. But to the modern English reader who does not know Greek, does “a man of many turns” suggest the doubleness of the original word — a man who is either supremely in control of his life or who has lost control of it? Of the existing translations, it seems to me that none get across to a reader without Greek the open question that, in fact, is the opening question of the “Odyssey,” one embedded in the fifth word in its first line: What sort of man is Odysseus?
“I wanted there to be a sense,” Wilson told me, that “maybe there is something wrong with this guy. You want to have a sense of anxiety about this character, and that there are going to be layers we see unfolded. We don’t quite know what the layers are yet. So I wanted the reader to be told: be on the lookout for a text that’s not going to be interpretively straightforward.”
Here is how Wilson’s “Odyssey” begins. Her fifth word is also her solution to the Greek poem’s fifth word — to polytropos:
Tell me about a complicated man. Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy, and where he went, and who he met, the pain he suffered in the storms at sea, and how he worked to save his life and bring his men back home. He failed to keep them safe; poor fools, they ate the Sun God’s cattle, and the god kept them from home. Now goddess, child of Zeus, tell the old story for our modern times. Find the beginning.
When I first read these lines early this summer in The Paris Review, which published an excerpt, I was floored. I’d never read an “Odyssey” that sounded like this. It had such directness, the lines feeling not as if they were being fed into iambic pentameter because of some strategic decision but because the meter was a natural mode for its speaker. The subtle sewing through of the fittingly wavelike W-words in the first half (“wandered … wrecked … where … worked”) and the stormy S-words that knit together the second half, marrying the waves to the storm in which this man will suffer, made the terse injunctions to the muse that frame this prologue to the poem (“Tell me about …” and “Find the beginning”) seem as if they might actually answer the puzzle posed by Homer’s polytropos and Odysseus’s complicated nature.
Complicated: the brilliance of Wilson’s choice is, in part, its seeming straightforwardness. But no less than that of polytropos, the etymology of “complicated” is revealing. From the Latin verb complicare, it means “to fold together.” No, we don’t think of that root when we call someone complicated, but it’s what we mean: that they’re compound, several things folded into one, difficult to unravel, pull apart, understand.
“It feels,” I told Wilson, “with your choice of ‘complicated,’ that you planted a flag.”
“It is a flag,” she said.
“It says, ‘Guess what?’ — ”
“ ‘ — this is different.’ ”
This (and other things I’ve read about it) makes me want to read her translation
Oh.
Yes.
Yesssss
If I was really going to be radical,” Wilson told me, returning to the very first line of the poem, “I would’ve said, polytropos means ‘straying,’ and andra” — “man,” the poem’s first word — “means ‘husband,’ because in fact andra does also mean ‘husband,’ and I could’ve said, ‘Tell me about a straying husband.’ And that’s a viable translation. That’s one of the things it says. But it would give an entirely different perspective and an entirely different setup for the poem.
Oooooh my god yes.
This gave me chills and also it is so ridiculously vindicating to see my “Guy with something wrong with him” theory of ancient literature stated in words by a real academic
I feel like people who enjoy this would also enjoy Maria Dahvana Headley’s translation of Beowulf, which begins with “Bro! Tell me we still know how to talk about kings!”
Source: The New York Times
that page of the transgirl romance comic where she kisses her hand and her hair while affirming her gender identity is so good I am not kidding it would be so wildly effective on me, I think I would entirely melt if this was done to me, just immediately become putty in their hands
it might be my autism or something bc ik my special interest and fixation is music but literally the vocal melody in the chorus in this song sounds like how it felt to have my fucking egg cracked like it SOUNDS how the realization i was trans felt it FEELS like an awakening and it makes me so fucking happy happy happypypypy
You have been visited by the barefoot crypto guy, your portfolio will remain as it was
This is the worst video
brexit is an absolute legend and icon
Bingus <3
Bucket :3
budget
brisket
bridge
bagel <3
bicalutamide ε>
wearing opera gloves at the beach to fix my farmers tan
hey does anybody have that image of joe biden yelling with the caption FAGGOT I need it for a bit
let me jump into my faggot folder
thank you so much you're genuinely my hero and you can hit if you wanna
can I hit
sobbing
cry more it turns me on
I’ll sob all over you, making sure to cover you in my snot and tears as I start whimpering
kill your self sexual style
no, I need your help crush me in those thighs parental figure
STOP CALLING ME THAT
WHAT ELSE DO I CALL YOU? GUARDIAN?
i'm not your fucking parent i'm an internet gay
sorry that’s really ableist of you to assume that I was born into a house of responsible parents, can you adopt me 👉👈
Can I adopt you instead 👉👈