“So it was the hand that started it all. … His hands had been infected and soon it would be his arms. He could feel the poison working up his wrists and into his elbows and shoulders. And then the jump-over from shoulder blade to shoulder blade like a spark leaping a gap. His hands were ravenous.”
I was googling stuff about the artist for this game (Masamune Shirow), and found an art book of theirs that shows some concept art/designs of the few characters with official art. (In a book called
Intron Depot 5 Battalion with his illustrations)
These are pages from an absolutely extraordinary book called Mira calligraphiae monumenta. The book was first written by Georg Bocskay in 1560s a showcase of the highest quality calligraphy. In 1590s the book was reprinted with addition of natural history-themed drawings by Joris Hoefnagel.
Lacking inspiration, I cleaned the closet instead. Read the KonMari book on decluttering, which is very…animist. (Author spent a lot of time working at a Shinto shrine, I hear, which may account for that.) There’s a lot written about it and joy and whatnot, but the part I fixated on was that you’re supposed to thank the things you get rid of, partly out of respect, partly because this will get you over the weird emotional attachment most of us have to Stuff. Can’t get rid of a thing you don’t wear because you paid a lot of money for it? Thank it for its help. Then it’s easier. (It is, too. Go figure.)
I am amused by the various angsty responses to this I have read, which range from “No way am I talking to my socks!” to some frankly weird radical Christian stuff that thanking your socks is definitely Wrong and possibly Satanic and you should say a prayer to the Holy Spirit instead for giving you socks. (I admit, my Catholicism is pretty lapsed, but I think God is probably a bit more concerned that we not be awful to each other than with briefly anthropomorphizing one’s socks as one prepares to send them to Goodwill. Honestly, were I running the universe, I’d be like “Whatever gets you to give the socks to the less fortunate, DO THAT.” But there’s a reason they don’t let me run the universe. Several. Not least that we would be hip-deep in axolotls. Well, anyway, the theology seems a little muddled to me. The important thing is that everybody’s got socks going into winter.)
Regardless, whichever way you come at it, the chief source of resistance seems to be in talking to one’s sock drawer. Mostly it seems to be that you will look silly doing it.
Then there’s me. I read this book and went “Lord, I talk to my socks already! Finally, a book for me!”
Tag some followers you want to get to know better.
Name/Nickname: My name is Jessica but i go by Jessie or Jess.
Height: 5′3? 5′4? i’m not sure but I’m not that tall nor too short heh😹
Hogwarts House: Hufflepufff?
Last Thing I Googled: Uzumaki Naruto art book because i’m in my Naruto feels..
Fictional Character You’d Like As A Sibling: Naruto? but I feel like I would effect the process of who he has become..
Number of Blankets: I have three but two of them keep falling off my bed >:(
Favorite Band/Artists: HMMM. WEELLL. Since my blog is mostly k-pop, I’ll share non-kpop groups. I love Dumbfounddead( rapper)cigarettes after sex, Bedroom, Varsity, In love with a Ghost, Chance the Rapper, and Towkio. I dont remember the other ones lol
When Did You Make This Blog: Around 2010? but I never really used it until 2013. Thats when I learned how to use tumblr.
How Many Blogs Do I Follow: 51!! I want to follow more Mexican culture blogs BUT THEYRE ALL PORNDIJNSJKCNJSNVJKS
What Do I Post About: Majority of my posts are food now, but of course kpop! Also like the reblog art, fashion, anime, and my culture🇲🇽✨
How Often Do You Get Asks: Its the same number of boyfriends I had, which is zero.
Aesthetics: white kitchen counters with wooden plates layed on top LMAOOooo Jaebum trying to not be cute??!?!?!?
Google has a great plan to prevent online spoilers.
Still afraid of finding out if Walter White lived or died at the end of Breaking Bad? A new patent from Google reveals that, soon enough, you may be able to
use Facebook the night of a big TV season finale without fear of being
spoiled. But don’t get too excited yet, it won’t solve the whole problem.
It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself.
But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple.