recycled carton

im so bad at telling you this or im so off course

as if a nematode became human
i try to express myself to beautiful people
beautiful! so much
more beautiful than me,
much much more. honestly.

once i had a dream
i poured my heart out
i said can we, will we, will you?

when the scaffolding was well defined between us,
when the invitation i set out was heard but not honored,
not mirrored.

probably i make too much of things. wishes.
i am ridiculous. i know.
probably i am recyclable as an egg carton, or
even more so equally.
i wait for recognition and get none.
i pause and wait.
its because im cardboard. or bicarbonate of soda.
its because im lint.

i try to say
can we please
can we please just celebrate each other
and not drown in the world.
can we please!


i have to go to bed now.
i love you tho. you.
sleep soundly you. sleep.
i hope you are cozy.
i hope i am cozy too.

in a moment you and me,
we will be forgotten.
not even forgotten.
more than that.
we will be the absence of knowing.
there will be no one to know.
in a moment. we never existed.

i keep looking for someone who gets this,
someone who understands that
this is our moment of time, and that
together, we can create our own world
separate from this world of insanity.

im probably naive.
probably it is impossible.
so never mind.
i know im a nematode,
a puff of lint in a pocket,
a tangle of an eyelash of something real.
my beauty is nonexistent when i think of you.


Die erste Ausgabe der FREIGHTZEIT ist da! Das Heft beschäftigt sich mit der Substanzveränderung von Güterzügen durch Graffiti. Des weiteren enthält das Heft ein Interview mit dem skandinavischen Gütermaler NOR, der uns seine Ansichten über Graffiti, Güterzüge und andere Dinge mitteilt. 

Zum Heft: Broschüre mit 68 Seiten, Rückenstichheftung, Umschlag 300g Recycling Karton, Innenseiten 100g Recycling Papier Blauer Engel, limitiert auf 50 Stück, handnummeriert.

Preis: 9€ + Versand

Bestellung via E-Mail an

Finally the first Issue of FREIGHTZEIT is arrived. The magazine deals with graffitiart on freighttrains. In addition to that scandinavian freighttrain writer NOR is giving an interview and is talking about graffiti, freighttrains and other stuff. 

Details: Brochure of 68 pages, back stiching, cover 300g recycling carton, insides 100g Blauer Engel, limited to 50 copies, handsigned. 

Price: 9€ + postage

Order via e-mail


Chapter 1: Yet Another Starting Line

Rating: T

Pairing: Akatani Mikumo/Bakugou Katsuki

Notes:  This work is, by and large, inspired by the @ask-protoheroes blog and is set in the same AU. Checking it out before, after, or during the reading of this fic is highly recommended.

Also read on Ao3

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DIY crafts: PHONE CASE recycling milk carton

What Happens When a BAND-AID® Brand Adhesive Bandages Carton Gets Recycled?

You’ve used up all your bandages caring for your family’s cuts and scrapes and made the brilliant, earth-friendly choice to recycle your bandage carton. But now what? Read on to discover how that original carton gets recycled into something new, rather than adding to landfill waste.

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Made-to-Sell Tomato plants

“My friends and I grew over 400 tomato plants from seeds and sold them in recycled school lunch milk cartons we gathered from school, to raise money for 3 green causes. We had a blog, were on the news, my project even made it on an National Public Radio story. It was a lot of work but a lot of fun too.”

Olicity Fic: Surviving in Low Light

Here’s a story that’s – well, neither fish nor fowl.  Set after The Climb, so, you know, sad, (seven small sad parts), but then a self-comforting (longer 2 parts) and much happier ending imagining Oliver’s return.  Featuring the fern, and Felicity’s nascent efforts in botany, heavily.  Enjoy!  Be comforted! 

(Gawd I hope under-the-cut works here. Sorry if it doesn’t.)


Surviving in Low Light


The first time it was just practical- - Verne had gotten nicked by Mr. Kaboom Boomerang after all, and Roy was just about to tear off the dangling broken frond when Oliver had held up his wait-a-minute finger and, mutely, took a tiny blade from his boot and sliced the frond off, low, walking away with the cutting.   Roy paused his broom and raised his eyebrows at Oliver’s retreating back, but Felicity shrugged her shoulders and said, pointing at her own brows: “you’re gonna hurt someone with those things if you don’t learn how to trim’em when you’re young.”

The next day when she arrived two tiny ferns were sitting, potted neatly in a recycled egg carton, next to the big one.  Felicity was delighted.  “Did you do this?”

“Uh huh,” Oliver said. “Just needs to be pretty wet for the first week.”

“This, er, botanical knowledge…from Lian Yu?”

“No.  Gardener. Mom used to make me help him summers. As punishment mostly, but I kind of liked it.  I just dusted the cutting in rooting hormone – it should take under the lights here.”

“Rooting hormone. Who knew?” Felicity said, grinning. Oliver grinned back.


Two weeks later it was only three of them in the lair.  

“Woah, Ouch,” Roy said, wrinkling his nose when he approached.

“Hey.” Digg warned.  He looked from where he and Felicity were peering at her bank of screens trying to cross reference assassinations and mountain ranges.  “We’re all working here.” He put his hand on her shoulder and huffed,  “It’s not beauty hour, Abercrombie.”

Felicity pressed her hands over her day-four ponytail.  She pulled one of the two pencils she had tucked into her increasingly curly front hair and then, glaring at Roy, crossed out one location on the list in front of her and put the pencil right back in.

“Hey! I wasn’t…I wasn’t talking about her,” Roy said.  “I was talking about the plant.”

They all looked over at the fern and its fernlets, drooping like sad baby Groot in their dry egg-cup beds.  Felicity bit her lip and went back to the screens glowing bluely in front of her.  

When Roy and Digg left together later, she stood up and stretched.  She took a drink and then, pausing, walked over to Verne and dumped the rest of her water bottle into the big fern.  She refilled for the little ones, pressing her lips together while she watched the water stain their dry soil dark again. 

That night she took the cuttings home with her.  She kept them in her bathroom, where they’d be protected from the radiator heat that clanked on every day at exactly 5:20 in the morning.  They seemed to double in size in the shower steam, like her hair did.  This pleased the remote part of her that was capable of being pleased at this time.


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There’s these dried hashbrowns that come in little cardboard cartons, like milk for kids. You can get them at like Costco or other bulk stores. I know about them cause the military uses them.

they are magic.

Anything that you would want shredded potatoes for, you can use these. It’s shredded potatoes that have been dried (and maybe par-boiled? idk). All you do is open the carton (like you’re gonna drink it) and fill with hot water (minimum 120F, I have an electric kettle so I do that) and then close and let it sit.

You can use these to make hashbrowns, but I really like using them for other stuff. like latkes or casserole or tossing in soup. They’re PERFECT for things that involve frying, cause they come out perfectly reconstituted but not drippy.

And you don’t have to deal with the peels afterward. Just throw away or recycle the carton.