1. secretlymartinfreeman:

    my friend’s brother is trying to get rid of his couch and he posted this to craigslist i’m laughing so hard

    My couch is tumblr famous.

  2. I lose shelf pegs

    So I moved recently, and lo and behold my bookcase (or CD shelf case, rather) turned up a few pegs shy, leaving me with two shelves sans support. But, upon closer examination of the peg-holes, I realized they were a familiar size.

    Yup, they’re the same gauge as those cheap disposable chopsticks you get with Chinese takeout.

    A few strokes of the keyhole saw later and I was ready to go.

    This is the ingenuity that colonized America, people.

    Perfect. And if I ever lose these in the next move, all I have to do is order takeout (which, let’s face it, is pretty much anyone’s go-to anyway when moving.)


  3. I have literally never met claeswar, have no idea who he(?) is and have never had any substantial interaction with them but sometimes I’ll post something and think ‘claeswar will like this’ and yup. hi claes yr cool we should hang if yr ever in dayton.


  4. Idea: artisanally broken-in headphones—a given piece of music, preferably something from a cult album, is played repeatedly and at great length through the headphones prior to their sale, fundamentally altering their frequency response and ‘coloring’ their future playback in light of the spectral qualities of the initial piece of music.

  5. Follow up to that last post: it’s also totally possible to add eggnog to granola and make an alcoholic parfait. I’m not saying you should do it or anything, just that it’s an option.

  6. Well now that I’ve figured out how to make homemade granola my breakfasts are just never going to be the same.


  7. "Most of our heartbreak comes from attempting to name who or what we love and the way we love, too early in the vulnerable journey of discovery. We can never know in the beginning, in giving ourselves to a person, to a work, to a marriage or to a cause, exactly what kind of love we are involved with. When we demand a certain specific kind of reciprocation before the revelation has flowered completely we find our selves disappointed and bereaved and in that grief may miss the particular form of love that is actually possible but that did not meet our initial and too specific expectations. Feeling bereft we take our identity as one who is disappointed in love, our almost proud disappointment preventing us from seeing the lack of reciprocation from the person or the situation as simply a difficult invitation into a deeper and as yet unrecognizable form of affection. The act of loving itself, always becomes a path of humble apprenticeship, not only in following its difficult way and discovering its different forms of humility and beautiful abasement but strangely, through its fierce introduction to its many astonishing and different forms, where we are asked continually and against our will, to give in so many different ways, without knowing exactly, or in what way, when or how, the mysterious gift will be returned."

    -David Whyte

  8. During the Dust Bowl in America, many families resorted to putting their children, particularly the smaller ones, in kitchen cupboards to protect them from the windstorms that inevitably filled even tightly sealed houses with dust. Much like the “window box babies" of turn-of-the-century urban centers, "kitchen cupboard babies" were the result of parents’ attempts to deal with the unexpected conditions of a new environment.


  9. When my car’s automatic headlights tick on at dusk it makes me sad.

    It will happen as I’m driving sometimes; the sensor mounted in the dash will signal the lights that it’s time, and while the road in front of me does not perceptibly change in brightness, my dash lights and dials will momentarily dim as a surge of electricity is rerouted to the front of the car, and I hear the single click of some solenoid somewhere following orders, and I know that we have crossed some invisible threshhold into night. And it makes me sad, because I realize that my car, an inanimate thing of metal and computer brain, is somehow more in tune with nature than I am, more aware of the motion of the stars, more aware of precise shades of light and dark in a way that I will never be.

  10. Okay yeah, glad to know I’m not the only one who’s wondered.