Night shatters in mid-heaven:the bark of guns,
The roar of planes, the crash of bombs, and all
The unshackled sky pandemonium stuns
The senses to indifference, when a fall
Of masonry near by startles awake,
Tingling wide-eyed, prick-eared, with bristling hair,
Each sense within the body crouched aware
Like some sore-hunted creature in the brake.
Yet side by side we lie in the little room,
Just touching hands, with eyes and ears that strain
Keenly, yet dream-bewildered, through tense gloom,
Listening in helpless stupor of insane
Drugged nightmare panic fantastically wild,
To the quiet breathing of our sleeping child.
For the centenary of the Great War, every day this week we offer a poem in remembrance.
Steel Worker Union Votes to Protect LGBT Mill Employees -
The mills of the steel industry remain amongst the worst places to work if you are LGBT. While other industries have made great strides, steel mills remain “a brutal place to work,” but change may be coming. A local union has declared LGBT protections a priority and will call on the wider steelworker labor movement to do the same.
HOT STUFF COMIN’ THROUGH!
(Always reblog the Simpsons coming true)
This three-legged decorated war hero had one leg lost to surgery after taking four rounds from an AK-47.
Bad. Mother. Fucker.
Those eyes say “Pretend to throw the tennis ball. I dare you to only pretend.”
I think those eyes say a lot more than that. He’s seen more than I ever will, done more than I’ll ever do, and his war will never be over.He’s got Ranger scrolls on his collar. That dog is a god damn hero.
I just noticed the Purple Heart and that Scroll.
Wow. Just wow.
The picture alone, in all it’s detail says a lot of things. god damn.
I can’t not reblog this dog… his you
Eyes say so much
I’ve never seen a dog with such a face like that. Like an old man who went to war and if you ask him about he just stiffens up and face turns to stone.
Layka is a lady dog. Let’s remember that.
Now, it’s an understandable problem - our socialization instantly encourages us to see this rugged, sleek, military animal as a male. Three-legged hero dog with military decorations and stern-appearing eyes? TOTALLY A DUDE DOG, JUST LOOK AT HIM. It’s a programmed response, and nothing to be ashamed of - let’s just be accurate and note that Layka’s a female.
I’ve highlighted all the reblogs above where Layka is described as a hero, an old man, with male pronouns - rather than the fierce, charming heroine she is. It’s kind of a teachable moment: how does an image of an animal, displaying absolutely no secondary sex characteristics, instantly give us these fictional headcanons about its gender and gender performance? It’s an impressive demonstration of our ability to translate body language.
The photographer who took this compelling shot noted that Layka’s playful, bouncy energy made it nearly impossible for him to get a shot with her mouth closed! He ended up having to stop using the tennis ball he was using to get her attention, because it made her too excited and smiley. Based on the photos below, I think she’d have quite a sense of humor about the “where’s the tennis ball?” game!
Of course, the photographer did end up connecting with a fundamental aspect of Layka’s nature in the cover photo; her serious, soldier side. But that’s not all the animal is. Does the dog in the unused shots still resemble an “old man?” Is the dog in the unused shots male or female? Is it still a hero with its tongue out? Is it still admirable without a “face like stone?”
This is what I mean when I say that we have to examine the lenses of culture and society that we are always, always looking through when we talk about science biology.
So fresh and so clean! If you ever wondered how the dome got cleaned, now you know. 🆙 #uportland #universityofportland #themoreyouknow #knowingishalfthebattle (at University of Portland - Chiles Center)
I knew the Chiles Center back when it was red. Just saying.
*puts on sunglasses*
If Andromeda were brighter, this is how it would look in our night sky.
They’re all out there, we just can’t see themDistance to Earth: 2,538,000 light years
When I was little I used to have recurring dreams where I’d look up and see things in the sky like this.
I still remember the thrum of significance I always felt, but nobody else in the dream ever seemed to see the same things. Or if they did, it didn’t seem to matter.
Every so often, in the dream, I’d see somebody in a state of rapture and ecstasy as they stared up at the revealed void, but I would always wake up before I was able to ask them what it all meant.
(Source: laughing-treees, via infinity-imagined)
The Teacup Trail - Submissions Welcome! -
This begins when you stumble upon a teacup at the edge of the forest.
It can be any teacup, any forest, so use your imagination as you like.
This begins when you pick it up and take a sip and drain it all because it is to your liking. This begins when, almost against your will, you wander into the shade of the trees.
You find another teacup sitting on the ground just for you. And another. And another. The tea inside may not always be catered exactly to your taste, but it is certainly intriguing and strange. You look around you and realize that you have walked into an enchanted place. Dreams roam in the air around your head, a wondrous menagerie of them. And always, there are more cups of tea, one after the other on the ground, inviting you in.
Welcome, dear visitor, to the woods.
The Teacup Trail is always accepting submissions of new and original art, prose and poetry of a speculative nature. Click the link above for guidelines and don’t be shy! Signal boosts are appreciated!
My SDCC Diary: Our Fandom Anthropologist Reports Back -
Morgan Leigh Davies went to SDCC for us, and these are her findings.
”[…] Our enthusiasm was revived when the actors starring in [Age of Ultron] came onstage shortly after, ushered out one by one by resident bandleader Robert Downey Jr. Some of them seemed less enthusiastic than others, but they were all managing fine – that is, until Chris Evans walked out, hands in his pockets, rictus grin firmly in place, entire body radiating nervous energy.
[…]Here’s the thing about a famous person coming from your small town: even if you don’t know him, you probably know some vague trivial thing about him, and probably you do have a connection to him (maybe his sister, for instance, is your brother’s drama teacher), and you can never, never forget that he is a real person who at one point was just a kid who went to the same high school as you did and probably shopped at the same grocery store.[…]”
or, The Tragedy of Chris Evans
or, why actors don’t owe you their friendship.
or, fandom’s infantilizing, neutering, and systematic dismemberment of the personhood of entertainers.
Success is the only thing that separates the celebrities from the Tumblrs. Nobody wants to accept that the famous entities they worship might have once been (or still are) the awkward wallflowers yearning for a creative outlet of which internet Fandom prides itself on being comprised.