[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled “do not stand at my grave and weep” after the poem by mary elizabeth frye. the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

The sardonic, reductionist headline here could be "Scientists finally figured out why you get more colds in winter: bEcAuSe iT's CoLd!"—but the actual science involved here is both interesting, and potentially very relevant to everyday life and especially the immunocompromised:

Want to avoid catching or spreading respiratory viruses like CoVid-19, RSV, influenza, or a common cold? Mask up, please, but also bundle up! Wrap up in a scarf, wear a balaclava, and just generally keep your face warm. There's no single magic solution, but that's not a reason to do nothing. Rather, it's a reason to take several simple precautions that help avoid the spread of disease and protect those around you. (I can't tell you how much "this isn't 100% effective so I shouldn't do it at all" frustrates me.)

Oh, and #knitblr? This is your time to shine.

a dude came into the library stoned out of his mind and was like, “do I need a library card to look at books?” And I said, “to take books home, yes. To look at them, no” and he looked so relieved. bro was staring at a fish encyclopedia for like an hour and then just left.

this is literally all society needs to be

don’t always feel like you need to be rushing around/accomplishing tasks! that is such a weird mentality we have! you are allowed to just exist!

people act like it’s a flaw that qprs are difficult to define and confusing to allos as if that’s not half the fun! y’know those memes that are like “are you a boy or a girl?” followed by “no” / “yes”??? qprs are that energy but for relationships and for some reason we’ve still got folks trying to pretend that’s not nifty as fuck

i love him

when I was a kid you had to do the charlie the unicorn voice whether you liked it or not. you had to say candy mountain charlieeee in the voice. not like these days

Starving to death this morning because ive been to the new local cafe twice this week already and if i go a third time ill look desperate.

Me: I like the goods and/or services you offer in exchange for my money

The cafe, in my head: lmao cringe, kill yrself buddy

The endlessly wailing siren of my social anxiety issues is probably not going to be silenced by the people in the comments pointing out that being a regular at a restaurant is a normal thing for people to be, but I do zero-sarcasm appreciate the attempt, is very kind!

I used to walk into [redacted nonpizza store] in my area and the guy behind the counter would immediately ask me if I wanted a pizza. truly I experienced the mortifying ordeal of being known as the pizza guy

compared to that being a regular at a normal cafe ordering normal breakfast items would be a real relief

Literally dread this scenario, to have your identity *reduced down* to a single item order, to be known as such a plebian with such a restricted palette that your order can be charted in advance, oh widdle ash wants his chicken tendies uwu.

I agree having a set breakfast order is more socially acceptable than a set pizza order. But its not enough; its never enough.

Though life update: i did just go to the cafe in the end. I compromised with my anxiety by ordering a sandwich instead of my typical bagel. It was fine but not as good.

on the flipside, we went to the same place for brunch a couple years, one time my buddy orders something new, and while he’s eating five different members of the wait staff stopped by to be like “did they bring you the wrong thing?”

This thread needs a trigger warning keep the horror stories coming

There was a bakeshop near my house that made soft ginger cookies and and macarons but only 2-3 good flavors. I walked in once and the cashier (who I definitely didn’t recognize) said “let me guess - ginger cookies and cookies-n-cream macarons, right?”

Needless to say, I never returned.

I once went to a McDonald’s, the cashier said “big mac combo meal and a chicken burger, right?” and I said “yeah” and then didn’t come back for two years

This entire genre of concern so fascinatingly foreign to me! the cafeteria pizza guy knows I want 3 slices of whatever veggie pizza he has, and he will have them ready for me without me having to say anything besides a quick murmured thanks, and he smiles when he sees me and starts to grab them, and it feels so good! to be known, even a little bit, to be a small constant in someone else’s life… there’s just something so beautiful and precious and good in that, for me.

When I lived in [the city where I lived for undergrad] there was this place very close to my house with cheap and delicious lamb curry and the people at the counter knew my face and would start scooping the lamb curry into a bowl when they saw me come through the door. I thought this was lovely of them and always made sure to tip generously. Restaurant and regular is a mutually beneficial relationship.

Yeah there’s a bakery/cafe a few doors down from me and reaching the point where they a) remember my face/name and b) know my regular order meant that I can no longer get breakfast anywhere else ever.

Had the guy at the taco truck I routinely went to for lunch who asked me after a few years if I only ate burritos or something, no man I’m just don’t see the need to mix up my lunches.

I had a regular named Anastasia who wanted a small white chocolate mocha, no whip, with a chocolate drizzle twice a week. Every time I saw her in line I had the drink on the counter, with her name written on top in chocolate, by the time she got to the register. It was a great way to practice writing in syrup on a smaller surface than our big cafe cappuccino cups.

There was another guy, Mickey, who started coming in during my first stint working that shop, which was from 2006-2008. I quit for two years then had to come back in 2010, at which point he wasn’t a regular anymore. He came in with a friend one day in mid 2011 and I handed him his medium iced mocha while he was still in line and he did a double-take at me and at the drink and was like “what the fuck?” Turns out he had moved out of state.

One regular, Nacho, wanted an ice cream freeze made with rootbeer and peppermint ice cream every friday - I made one for myself once because the order sounded so weird but the peppermint ice cream really does go well with the wintergreen in the rootbeer. I ended up being one of the photographers at Nacho’s wedding.

I haven’t worked at a coffee shop in more than a decade and I miss my regulars. In my case, if I remembered someone’s order it was because I liked them. They were a customer it was pleasant to interact with and I was glad to see them.

Our local cheese monger at the farmers’ market has the big wheel of gruyere on the bench when I’m still half a row away from his stand. The ladies working at the butcher’s set aside meatballs for my dad every Friday if they’re running low because they know he’ll be in just before they close. My local booksellers [now deservedly retired] used to order niche foreign language SF/F books specifically because they thought I might like them. At my favorite restaurant they bring me shrimp kebab without the shrimp because I love the fennel and goat cheese and parmesan nest but don’t actually like the shrimp and they know. I will find sweet peas in my bag of potatoes and a rye loaf waiting for me on the counter just moments after joining the queue at the bakery. Being known and knowing others is what it’s all about. It’s all about love

@cosmogyros is this a post for you?

some others i found in the notes

[gripping the edge of the sink with trembling hands, eyes bloodshot] i do not need to be good at the things i love to do them

Good morning!

i like daydreaming and purposely being delusional. i don’t care it’s fun. what else is there to do?

its interesting to me how self-deprecation neatly ties into making others feel bad. like. if you constantly assume that you’re stupid no matter how informed or skilled in a topic you might be, people who are a bit less learned or skilled than you might see how you, someone who is obviously skilled, talk down about yourself, and assume that if you think YOURE an idiot you must think theyre an even bigger idiot and lose confidence or find you intimidating as a result. its fucked up. and its part of why it can be so important to break out of cycles of self-hatred–not just for yourself, but for people around you

https://bookshop.org/

They are making audio and digital books available now too!!

I found a hardback printing of the Voynich Manuscript on here. This place fucking rocks.

Hey I’m so excited to see this on my dash! I work at an independent bookstore in NY and we were hit insanely hard by the pandemic, like so many other indie bookstores across the country. Bookshop has literally been helping us to keep the lights on. You using stores’ affiliate links to bookshop (you can support my store here) or just browsing it on your own directly impacts our ability to remain in business. Overall Bookshop has raised over 10 million dollars for independent bookstores across America. This site really works!

If you want to buy books from the comfort of your own home without supporting Amazon, please please consider using Bookshop! We are all so thankful for your support!

Image reads:

“Oh, this is fabulous. A new online platform, Bookshop, has created a centralized online shopping platform for independent bookstores around the country. Quarantine doesn’t mean you have to resort to Amazon.”

Picture of a person with hands on a desk, standing in front of bookshelves. 

Caption under the picture: “Thanks to Bookshop, there is no reason to buy books on Amazon anymore.”

Visit bookshop.org

circling back around to the issue of writers being expected to do all their own goddamn marketing via social media these days, because it completely nixes the possibility of writers being weird shut ins, off-putting eccentrics, or misanthropes. 80% of the literary canon was written by weird shut ins, off-putting eccentrics, and misanthropes. if you weed out everyone who’s the wrong kind of insane to maintain a twitter presence, who on earth is left

i heard a talk about this by a terrific mystery novelist, John Straley, titled “In Defense of Misanthropes in the Arts.”

I’ll never forget him sharing his candid fear that authors like him, authors who did not want to post on Facebook or Twitter, authors who wanted to be curmudgeonly and left alone, were being steadily squeezed out of the writing world as publishers foisted more and more promotional work directly onto authors. Not everyone is cut out for the spotlight. Not everyone wants to be their own hype man. Not everyone presents well in 280 characters, especially in a space they don’t even want to be present. The time suck, the scrutiny, the punishment for making a “mistake” -- all this extracurricular work is so different from actual writing.

Make room for weird reclusive shut-in eccentric misanthropic artists and writers. Don’t forget those voices are worth your attention, too.

Fun Facts About Honey

- Honey is mostly sugar (WoW!) it is 80% sugar and 20% water (double WoW!)

- There are over 20,000 species of bees, but only 4 make HONEY

-Honey is the ONLY food that contains all the substances you need to survive (Including WATER)

-Children under the age of 1 should not eat honey… why? because sometimes it contains bad stuff called botulism and can cause them to get botulism poisoning (that sucks, even infants should taste the deliciousness that is honey)

-Honey will crystallize under optimum temperatures (this has a lot to do with how you store it)

-Bees produce honey to eat during the winter when there are no flowers and no nectar for them.

-A honeybee would only need an ounce of honey to be able to fuel a flight around the world (this makes for a very cultural bee!)

-A typical beehive can make up to 400 pounds of honey a year! (Wowza!)

This reads like it was written by a bee and I’m 100% here for it

This is singlehandedly THE BEST compliment I have ever received :)

sometimes plushies make me cry because it’s like. they’re little guys made to be loved. their only purpose is to be held and hugged and loved. we made them because we love making things and we love loving things. and they’re so cute

Years back, I was working at a specialty store, and we got this HUGE crate of plushy toys. They were all insanely cute and squishy. I knew kids would go nuts for them, as it was the first week of December, so parents and grandparents often had kids with them while shopping for furniture, lamps, cooking equipment, lights, etc.

One night, I was working my last hour of my shift covering the Customer Service desk, which meant when I wasn't busy, I was supposed to help clean up around the cash registers, including taking back items people changed their minds about at the checkout. Earlier, I had witnessed a kid carrying thos cute plushy toy. It was a brown and white hedgehog. The kid, at the checkout, saw a remote control car and he told his dad he qanted it. The dad told him, "The plushy or the car- you can't have both" (by the way, I respect boundaries with kids and parents sticking to their guns about it), and the kid picked the car.

So, I'm cleaning up, have less than an hour left of my shift, and I see the little plushy hedgehog. Somehow, he never got put back nor had anyone else seen him and decided to buy him. He was just sitting there, slumped to the side, unattended.

It's Christmas and I'm a sentimental old sap at heart. My brain starts replaying the scene from RUDOLPH where he's on the Island of Misfot Toys, and is told a toy is never truly happy until it is loved. I picked him up and quickly took him back to the bin with the plushies but... It was empty. He was literally the last plushy toy and my boss was about to wheel the bin out. We weren't getting any more toys till November, so that meant any toys left at this point needed to sell or they'd be sent to the dump.

I brought the little hedgehog to the front, figuring someone would see him with the candy, candles, & Christmas brick-a-brack, and fall in love with him. When I finished my shift, I went to ask my manager a question and as I passed the Christmas candle display - there he sat, the sad little slumped over hedgehog plushy. No one had bought him, or even moved him.

My manager, Phillip, saw me and the hedgehog. He asked how the hedgehog got there. I told him how I'd put him there when the bin got sent back, and he was the only plushy left. Philip had kids, I figured he'd probably get sentimental and buy it for his kids. Nope. He shrugged and said he'd send it back to be disposed of.

That night, I came home with a plushy hedgehog in my passenger seat. My mom saw him and just thought he was the cutest little hedgehog and asked what I wanted to do with him. I told her the story, then added I didn't know exactly what I wanted to do with him.

My mom is a child psychiatrist, specializing in children with PTSD and brain damage that results in learning problems/issues with processing their emotions. She asked if she could have the plushy hedgehog (even offered to pay me for him, she didn't expect me to just give him over), so kids could hug him when they were upset in session.

Murphy, the plushy hedgehog that still slumps a little to the left when seated, has been hugged by hundreds of kids. Little girls have held him tight while explaining about bullies, little boys have held him tight while crying over their panic attacks, younger siblings have held him to whisper secrets while elder siblings and parents talk about self-soothing techniques, teenagers have hugged Murphy while talking about the worst day of their lives. Murphy has also been hugged by kids excitedly chatting about a new friend at school, a teen girl excited to be called by her name instead of her dead-name, little kids proudly saying they've mastered their ABCs, and even staff members who just need to come chat over a case they are having trouble with.

Every now and then, my mom brings Murphy home for a weekend. He gets washed (she calls it a Spa Weekend, to her coworkers, all of them laughing), dried, and sits outside with my mom in the sunshine to get aired out, then on Monday, they are back to work. Some kids even just ask to hold Murphy while they talk, no matter their mood or what they want to talk about. They just want to hug Murphy.

So yes. Plushies are made for one purpose. To be hugged and loved. To be a comfort.