welcome to my humble abode
my posts are tagged [#rain rambles] and [#rain rants] usually, if you wanna see
sleeping on the floor is making a comeback after i was in the woods for 12 hours and fell asleep on my doormat after getting home.
maybe it shouldn't. I woke up convinced there was a portal opening to the rat dimension next to me but it was my headlamp
you need to go back to the rat dimension they need your help
last time i listen to you
I think maybe some statues are too realistic and we should hit them to see if there are people in there
Maria Skłodowska-Curie's notebooks are crazy once you think about it. They're so radioactive they have to be sealed in a lead box. Imagine a world where atomic theory is forgotten and a dude just goes "yea there's a book that details the secrets of the universe, the machinations of the creation of existence down to its barest essentials, but if you get close to it you fucking die. The more you read it the more your body slowly disassembles into mush." like wat excuse me
the way ivan aivazovsky looks at the sea…i think…i think that’s what love looks like.
love is surrounding yourself with people who see you this clearly
Still the freakiest fact about him is that despite being as tall as a person or more, he banged out these beauties in a day or two at most (and smaller ones ina matter of hours). The longest he spent on a painting, at age 81, to make his largest ever painting, was TEN DAYS:
It is 2.9×4.3 meters large. That’s 9'4"×14'1" for people in other measurement systems. It’s HUGE. There are artists out there that spend years on paintings much smaller than this. He was not one of them.
He also didn’t only paint the sea, but he MOSTLY painted the sea. Very few people could draw light filtering through waves the way this guy did and apparently it was tied into his layering technique that allowed him to paint so goddamn fast.
He is obviously my most favorite painter ever.
!!!
I scrolled past this without second thought. Paused. Thought, wait, I've never seen a crane on the road. Scrolled back up. No answers. Typed this response, then noticed the book's author. What a whirlwind
Basically they bring it in piece by piece and assemble it on-site, using a smaller mobile crane (trucks with crane attachments) and once the crane itself is assembled, the top part can use hydraulics to climb up and down its own mast, so it builds itself taller like this
There is however no explanation for BJ Nomnom
So apparently melatonin fixes my "can't fall asleep before 1 or 2 am" problem by replacing it with "wakes up at 1 or 2 am" problem, and then after being awake for a couple of hours I'll fall back asleep and wake up at noon anyway.
Looking up ideas of what causes it and how to fix it, apparently the best I can do is stop doing all the things I wasn't doing in the first place, and getting rid of problems that I do not have in my life. Splendid.
Sewn
I've been workshopping this one for a while, and I am DEEPLY normal about it I promise.
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Ms. Marjory’s hair was made of pink and blue cotton candy.
This was the only thought buzzing in the static behind Raj’s eyes while he stared, and nodded, and nodded harder at all the white noise coming from Ms. Marjory’s mouth. It wasn’t that anything Ms. Marjory said was boring or unimportant. To the contrary, everything Ms. Marjory had to say was important on a scale Raj could not put in words.
It was just that Raj had already memorized this speech from the Sewn website, and hearing those words recited verbatim did not feel real. Ms. Marjory did not feel real, Raj thought, as his heart slammed and his palms went slick around the envelope in his hands. ‘Hold harmless’ and ‘no liability’ slipped from Ms. Marjory’s mouth, and—well—Ms. Marjory’s white wispy cumulous hair was dyed pink and blue, like bubblegum cotton candy, Raj thought to himself.
“Do you understand all of that?” Ms. Marjory asked with a mask of a smile.
“Yes,” Raj said, both a lie and the truth, and he handed over his life savings.
Ms. Marjory assessed the envelope, her smile frosting at the corners, and she took the sticky envelope from Raj’s hands. She opened it cautiously and slipped the cashier’s check from its folds. She spared only a glance at the monetary value stamped on it.
“Full cost is usually handled later,” she said. Did the smile touch her eyes? Gray and crow-footed behind gold-chained glasses.
“I’ll pay up front,” Raj said, and he wondered if it made him sound stupid. Raj was not stupid. He was something so much better: Raj was desperate.
“Okay well, we can deposit this in a trust account in your name to pull payments from. Any unused balance will be refunded at the end.”
“Yes, sure,” Raj said. The money was meant to sway her, make her respect him. His parents had beaten it into his bones that respect took money. And yet nothing in Ms. Marjory’s gray eyes changed. She simply slipped the envelope out of sight, and Raj watched a house downpayment, a child’s college fund, and an early retirement for him and Lizzy disappear into the drawer of Ms. Marjory’s desk.
Ms. Marjory shut the drawer, ball bearings clacking, and Raj’s eyes settled on the yellow rubber ducky perched beside her left elbow.
