npckingmo - Tumblr blog

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I love when trans people look back on their earlier art, its always so interesting

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Just thought people may enjoy this :)

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a wikipedia poem on software entropy

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Poèmes en prose - Maurice de Guérin, ill. par George Barbier - 1928 - via e-rara

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Just stumbled upon this homophobic ad from a Christian Church on Facebook and the way it unintentionally slayed—

[npckingmo]

people have been calling this portrait very befitting considering the amount of blood on the british empire's hands, and i absolutely agree (i also don't want to know how much this was commissioned for because i think of how many British people are struggling with food and fuel poverty):

[photo: @/WorldTimesWT with caption "Britain's King Charles unveiled the first official portrait of himself since his coronation last May." May 14, 2024.]

in one direct action response to the portrait's reveal, Palestine Action activists did this:

never forget the British royals' support for a terrorist state -Israel, and never forget that king colonizer has personally voiced support for the bombing and genociding of Palestinian people.

[npckingmo]

Evergrace. EverQuest. RuneQuest. Runescape. Farscape.

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oh this orange is going to be so fucking dry and juiceless

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Midnighter and Apollo DC Pride variant cover by Oscar Vega

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“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag— And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers— Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands— Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped —has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

—

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

[npckingmo]

this kind of shit is always going on behind the scenes

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We need to start objectifying wizards. We can't slap them on the ass though they only have 4 hit points they may perish

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Forbidden Colors, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, 1988, acrylic on panel, 20 x 68 inches, four parts: 20 x 16 inches each

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Hypothetically, if you were able to bang superman, would you top or bottom?

boy what i would do with superman transcends top and bottom

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It REALLY is fucking funny how there is genuinely a distinct third faction in AI discourse on this site that is not "Pro-AI" but "The anti-AI crowd is talking about divine sparks of creativity and shit and I'm not about that"