January 2011
21 posts
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A provocative marketing approach to helping girls... →
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A poem from sarahdaly42, courtesy of a reblog by...
sarahdaly42:
Dear 6am I am awake again And seeing you From the wrong end
The stars look on with scorn Their privacy impinged The constellations plot To quench the midnight oil That fuels me But their plans are foiled
The moon mutters To a passing cloud That there is one On Earth still standing Condescending clocks And checking locks
Alert, unhurt I sit and wait Cocooned in blankets For the...
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Afghanistan's Opium Wars - National Geographic... →
A pretty damning look at Afghanistan, opium and the meaning of the word “futile.”
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Batman and Star Wars Posters Take Propaganda to a... →
Wonderfully artistic reinterpretations of movie posters.
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Dear Garden
You win. You beat me. You have pronounced undeniably that I have no aptitude for gardening, no innate connection to the earth and no intuitive understanding of the needs and wants of growing things. My mercantilish, non-farming ancestors suited me to a life in constructed environs, surrounded by things made of plants grown by others. It took three years; I was stubborn as dollarweed. But, you...
Physics says: go to sleep. Of course
you’re tired. Every atom in you
has been...
– now. right now. that’s it.: Albert Goldbarth, The Sciences Sing a Lullaby
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