This is no time for one of your proverbs.

Sep 01
nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

Sep 01
Sep 01
Sep 01
trickstersgambit:

22-07-2009:

aimlessme:

amoying:

archaeology:

Ancient Puppy Paw Prints Found on Roman Tiles

i got really happy about this and then i was like “this dog is probably dead” and now i am crying

Probably dead

Probably

There’s hope, apparently.

trickstersgambit:

22-07-2009:

aimlessme:

amoying:

archaeology:

Ancient Puppy Paw Prints Found on Roman Tiles

i got really happy about this and then i was like “this dog is probably dead” and now i am crying

Probably dead

Probably

There’s hope, apparently.

Sep 01

As much as I would love to be a person that goes to parties and has a couple of drinks and has a nice time, that doesn’t work for me. I’d just rather sit at home and read, or go out to dinner with someone, or talk to someone I love, or talk to somebody that makes me laugh.

Sep 01

lexbots:

the pumpkin king / sally

Sep 01

Heart, don’t fail me now
Courage, don’t desert me

Sep 01
tastefullyoffensive:

The best costume spotted at Disneyland’s 10k race today. [adamlc6]

tastefullyoffensive:

The best costume spotted at Disneyland’s 10k race today. [adamlc6]

Aug 30
Aug 30

tsabe:

The Animated Self Portrait 

T.S Abe

Aug 30

wholockedmydoor:

kia-kaha-winchesters:

just the girly things

  • forcing an earing through a closed piercing
  • taking off tight clothes and rubbing the indents they left on your skin 
  • human sacrifice
  • homemade face masks 

Hey, I’ve never made a face mask before

Aug 30
macteenbooks:

archiemcphee:

This exquisitely, scrumptiously detailed Library Cake was made by Kathy Knaus. One side features the entrance to the brick library building, flanked by potted plants. The other side reveals the library’s cozy interior, complete with countless books lining its double-decker shelves, a large globe, and a wonderfully cluttered reading table accented with gum drop lamps.
Libraries are awesome places and cake is one of the best things ever, so this sweet, edible library is extra-mega-super-duper awesome.
[via That’s Nerdalicious!]

OMG it’s a library cake. What?! I want to eat it but like I can’t. 

macteenbooks:

archiemcphee:

This exquisitely, scrumptiously detailed Library Cake was made by Kathy Knaus. One side features the entrance to the brick library building, flanked by potted plants. The other side reveals the library’s cozy interior, complete with countless books lining its double-decker shelves, a large globe, and a wonderfully cluttered reading table accented with gum drop lamps.

Libraries are awesome places and cake is one of the best things ever, so this sweet, edible library is extra-mega-super-duper awesome.

[via That’s Nerdalicious!]

OMG it’s a library cake. What?! I want to eat it but like I can’t. 

Aug 30
portraits-of-america:

     “I’m 49 years old and I was in prison for 22 years. Now I’m struggling to take care of my children. It’s rough. I’ve applied to every job and every agency. You serve your time, you get out, but they hold your past against you—your time is never considered ‘served’. I’ll be serving it for the rest of my life. I’m free, but I ain’t free.     “I have hope, though. I don’t give up. I know something good’s gonna happen for me. I know it. And if it doesn’t, I’m not gonna do nothing that’s gonna send me back to prison. The only thing prison does is teach you how to do wrong—how to be a better criminal.”

Toledo, OH

portraits-of-america:

     “I’m 49 years old and I was in prison for 22 years. Now I’m struggling to take care of my children. It’s rough. I’ve applied to every job and every agency. You serve your time, you get out, but they hold your past against you—your time is never considered ‘served’. I’ll be serving it for the rest of my life. I’m free, but I ain’t free.
     “I have hope, though. I don’t give up. I know something good’s gonna happen for me. I know it. And if it doesn’t, I’m not gonna do nothing that’s gonna send me back to prison. The only thing prison does is teach you how to do wrong—how to be a better criminal.”

Toledo, OH

Aug 30

unamusedsloth:

Nude Portraits series by photographer Trevor Christensen

Aug 30

quote Only thin, weak thinkers despise fairy stories. Each one has a true, strange fact hidden in it, you know, which you can find if you look.

— Diana Wynne Jones, ‘Fire and Hemlock’ (via dephinia)