〇: Ten rape prevention tips: →
nirvikalpa: 1. Don’t put drugs in women’s drinks. 2. When you see a woman walking by herself, leave her alone. 3. If you pull over to help a woman whose car has broken down, remember not to rape her. 4. If you are in an elevator and a woman gets in, don’t rape her. 5. When you encounter a woman who is…
When someone walks into your bedroom whilst you're...
sodamnrelatable: And they’re all: ”Ahh, You could’ve said something!” And you’re just like: ”I’m sorry for being naked in my own bedroom, how rude of me” via sodamnrelatable
unrealcities: bookshop: I clearly haven’t done...
What should we have taken with us? We never could decide on that; or what to...– “Provisions,” Margaret Atwood
"Is/Not," Margaret Atwood
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cavities you are not my doctor you are not my cure, nobody has that power, you are merely a fellow/traveller Give up this medical concern, buttoned, attentive, permit yourself anger and permit me mine which needs neither your approval nor your suprise which does not need to be made legal which is not...
"A Sad Child," Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget. Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it was...
"Variations on the Word Love," Margaret Atwood
This is a word we use to plug holes with. It’s the right size for those warm blanks in speech, for those red heart- shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell it. We insert it also in the one empty space on the printed form that comes with no instructions. There are whole magazines with not much in them but the word love, you can rub it all...
"Habitation," Margaret Atwood
Marriage is not a house or even a tent it is before that, and colder: The edge of the forest, the edge of the desert the unpainted stairs at the back where we squat outside, eating popcorn where painfully and with wonder at having survived even this far we are learning to make fire
Greg James: We should touch upon your relationship. I don't want to be invasive, but so you met on set of Spider-Man?
Andrew Garfield: Hold it right there.
Emma Stone: Let's just hold the phone.
AG: You know what's weird? There are certain people who can talk about like their life in such a way... And I've just discovered that I can't do that. You know, being an actor is such a weird thing and a job. We both want audiences to suspend their disbelief and actually be able to believe us in roles, so I don't want them to know what hand I wipe my ass with, you know what I mean?
ES: Are. you. kidding me? That that is the metaphor you made in that situation.
AG: This is BBC Radio 1
ES: Oh. My. God.
GJ: Well there goes my next question.
Interviewer: Tell me about your character in this film.
Tom Hiddleston: Let me begin with a quote from Shakespeare...
Benedict Cumberbatch: Do you want the long and thoughtful answer, or the long and thought provoking answer?
Andrew Garfield: The word "character" can be interpreted in many different ways.
Jennifer Lawrence: CAKE BALLS.
David Tennant: I'll quote a poem and be all Scottish and adorable.
Alex Kingston: That reminds me of a sexual innuendo- oops, I just made an innuendo, didn't I.
Arthur Darvill: I wrote a song about that on my vintage harmonica.
Matt Smith: Did you just say "Karen Gillan?" Because, you know, your question made me think of something that happened yesterday, when Kazza and I were platonically hanging out on the bed in her hotel room...
"You Begin," Margaret Atwood
You begin this way: this is your hand, this is your eye, this is a fish, blue and flat on the paper, almost the shape of an eye This is your mouth, this is an O or a moon, whichever you like. This is yellow. Outside the window is the rain, green because it is summer, and beyond that the trees and then the world, which is round and has only the colors of these nine crayons. This is the world, which...
"Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing," Margaret...
The world is full of women who’d tell me I should be ashamed of myself if they had the chance. Quit dancing. Get some self-respect and a day job. Right. And minimum wage, and varicose veins, just standing in one place for eight hours behind a glass counter bundled up to the neck, instead of naked as a meat sandwich. Selling gloves, or something. Instead of what I do sell. You have to have...
"Little Father," Li-Young Lee
I buried my father in the sky. Since then, the birds clean and comb him every morning and pull the blanket up to his chin every night. I buried my father underground. Since then, my ladders only climb down, and all the earth has become a house whose rooms are the hours, whose doors stand open at evening, receiving guest after guest. Sometimes I see past them to the tables...
"Butterfly Laughter," Katherine Mansfield
In the middle of our porridge plates There was a blue butterfly painted And each morning we tried who should reach the butterfly first. Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor butterfly.” That made us laugh. Always she said it and always it started us laughing. It seemed such a sweet little joke. I was certain that one fine morning The butterfly would fly out of our plates,...
Reblog if you think gay marriage should be legal.
the-queen-of-anchors: HOLY FUCK THE NOTES. If you’re my follower and you don’t reblog this we have a problem~ HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THE NOTES you better reblog this.
It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come our real work, ...– “The Real Work,” Wendell Berry
"Picture Puzzle Piece," Shel Silverstein
One picture puzzle piece Lyin’ on the sidewalk, One picture puzzle piece Soakin’ in the rain. It might be a button of blue On the coat of the woman Who lived in a shoe. It might be a magical bean, Or a fold in the red Velvet robe of a queen. It might be the one little bite Of the apple her stepmother Gave to Snow White. It might be the veil of a bride Or a bottle with some evil genie...
TSN Week, "Letters" →
Reform Without Practice | Also on LJ | And DW The Social Network Mark/Eduardo G 3,500 words Warnings None Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; for, thus friends absent speak
"The Gift," Li-Young Lee
To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I watched his lovely face and not the blade. Before the story ended, he’d removed the iron sliver I thought I’d die from. I can’t remember the tale, but hear his voice still, a well of dark water, a prayer. And I recall his hands, two measures of tenderness he laid against my face, the flames of...
Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window,into which people look(while people stare arranging and changing placing carefully there a strange thing and a known thing here)and changing everything carefully spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window (carefully to and from moving New and Old things,while people stare carefully moving a perhaps fraction of...
"Siren Song," Margaret Atwood
This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible: the song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons even though they see the beached skulls the song nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and the others can’t remember. Shall I tell you the secret and if I do, will you get me out of this bird suit? I don’y enjoy it here squatting on...
Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.” Said the old man,...– “The Little Boy and The Old Man,” Shel Silverstein
"Ozymandias," Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the...