#Julia Eastman

[aselectsociety]

Lay Lady Lay (or is it Lie?)

I’ve been writing about some of the initial editing work done by Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson as they planned to publish the first edition of poems by Emily Dickinson.

In addition to having to decipher Dickinson’s handwriting, they also had to figure out which words she might have landed on (among her various alternative word choices listed on pages of her poetry) had she finalized all of her poems. They also made corrections to spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and grammar.  

On one hand, some of Dickinson’s grammatical errors can be “traceable to the fact that she followed current spoken usage” of the time (from p. 42 of “Ancestors’ Brocades).  

On the other hand, “for the first editors the perennial uncertainty was: which are mistakes and which are intentional irregularities with a definite function to perform.” 

For example: there is an interesting story behind Dickinson’s deliberate misspelling of “ankle” as “ancle” in “Of Tribulation – these are they,” HERE.  

Following the publication of the first edition of “Poems” in 1890, Thomas Wentworth Higginson received a letter from Julia Eastman, one of the joint principals of a school for girls.

“Dear Sir,” wrote Ms. Eastman, “Would it be an ‘impertinence’ – to borrow your own word (from the preface of the book) – to ask if one change might not be made in the next edition of Emily  Dickinson’s Poems?

On page 119, in the line, ‘When one who died for truth was lain,” could not ‘laid’ be substituted without harming the poem?  The poem on the following page has the same error in the last stanza, but an amendation would be more troublesome there.”

Ms. Eastman added, “To most of the educated people of New England, the confusion of ‘lie’ & ‘lay’ is condoned with some difficulty.”

Sooo…how is your own expertise with “lie” and “lay”?  LOL – should I prepare a quiz for tomorrow?  

For now, here are the two poems in question.

[beatsfornone]

Important women in Beatles history

Illustrations by Marta Ponce

[francishodgson]

Passing the Polygraph - Books of Collections

It’s been quite a time that I’ve been obscurely dissatisfied with ordinary photographic monographs. I suppose I shouldn’t complain: I’ve written texts for dozens of them, usually as an introduction before the pictures, and usually found much to like in the pictures concerned. No doubt the good ones still keep coming; the great ones, too, and probably at the same very slow rate as ever. But I’m…

[bambi-kinos]

Do you think Yoko Ono can be considered a real feminist? She did important works like Cut Piece who influenced Marina Abramovich for Rhythm 0 and her ideas for the sixties were actually really progressive and considered provocative but her actions don't seemb to align whit her words. She didn't have a little simpathy for Cynthia on the contrary a rival when her marriage was dead from years, she used her power dynamic with her young employee, she never had for what we know female friendships and she never collaboreted or spoke about other female artists. She didn't meet with Julia Baird and Jackie Dykins about the work My mummy was beautiful, quoting their mother, Julia Baird didn't like it. It seembs to me her relationships were made most of gay men in the inner artistic circle of New York, also only the men spoke highly of her. The only exception was Linda Eastman who probably had a great charm and a particulary approach to people that even Yoko, a part for some moments in the 70's, was in her ways impressed

Yoko Ono is simply a flawed human being that fails to live up to her ideology. The truth is we are all like that. Woodie Guthrie was a communist sympathizer but he still paid good money for his children to be taken care of in private business transactions instead of fucking off to a commune or whatever to raise them. Everything has been fake and gay for longer than we have been alive. Lefties live in the wealthiest white suburbs, righties build their businesses off the backs of illegal immigrant labor, neo Nazis love Israel and Marxists don't work for a living. Nobody is serious and everyone is grifting. (To quote a tweet.)

Yoko Ono is a feminist the same way many people are Christians. Not because she does the shitwork but because it's something that she believes and presumably practices on Sundays. How many Christians do we know that actually give money and do charity work when they aren't at their jobs? Yet they're still Christians. The hypocrisy is built into the human condition.

When it comes to Yoko's feminism, she deliberately placed herself, via John, to be a lightning rod. She used her notoriety to push important concepts into the marketplace of ideas. She also deliberately took hits from whiny manbabies so that other feminists could do the boring ass shitwork of writing legislation and changing laws without as much trouble. I'm not sure we would have the privileges we do today if Yoko Ono had not done that. We'll never properly know how many angry and narcissistic males she distracted so that women on the ground could actually carve niches out for so that we, their daughters and granddaughters, could live freely.

It used to be that we did not have a choice about living under tyrants and psychopaths. In many places it is still not a choice. As western women we are privileged enough to choose between living full independent lives where we can control our private property OR being beaten, sexually abused, having our money and livelihoods stolen from us, and being dominated by entitled males. In fact we are so privileged that right wing men have been desperately funding the new "tradwife" porn fetish and pushing it into places like Insta and TikTok because they are so desperate for women to stop working and "submit" to these obscene and inhumane conditions.

I can't tell you if Yoko Ono is a "real feminist" or not. But I can tell you that she is incredibly smart and savvy, no matter what she did to John. And she very deliberately drew fire and introduced controversial ideas to the public because she knew she only had one shot at being John Lennon's wife. She had to use it to the utmost and she did. Actual politics is boring as shit, actual politics is deciding on fertilizer types and irrigation systems to increase wheat yields next season. Yoko was too high profile to do any of that but she knew that wasn't her strength. Being a survivor is her strength and she used that to further women's rights and protect women who couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves as they fought for us in Western nations.

I don't like Yoko as a person but I also know I owe her a debt. Women like her are why I can live unmarried in my 30s, own a home, drive my own car, have a job, and keep my own money. If you think right wing men are hopping mad about that now, you should jump into a time machine and see how screamingly enraged they were that Yoko was saying this stuff and that she got John Lennon, paragon of rock and roll, to agree with her and amplify her message. She and John got lots of death threats and even survived attempts at physical harm before John was murdered. It wasn't all because of the Beatle thing, there were lots of angry people that wanted to murder her because she wanted women to be liberated and live full individual lives.

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

Riding Full Circle in Time - Gil Grissom Self-therapy fic

(A/N: If anybody catches all my references, I love you.

Warning - reference to canonical homophobia, and extended for fic purposes)

We - Catherine, Nick and I - watched the interrogation where Kate Armstrong confessed the motive for the crime that she and Julia Eastman had committed; all too often, it was the innocent people who had no choice but to kill to protect themselves, and were deemed as criminals in the eyes of the law when they could have been helped of circumstances were better.

I put my arm on the glass and rested my head on it. Unwillingly, I began to cry and sob quietly. I lifted my other hand to wipe the back of it across my tearing eyes. The others with me noticed, and Catherine stepped forwards to put a hand on my upoer back. "Hey. Hey, what's the matter?" she said gently. I just shook my head and waved her off, not wanting to talk.

My head sprung up when I heard the sound of the chairs dragging as they stood up. I quickly wiped my tears and hurried out of the observation room, catching up to them. "Hey, Kate," I said; she and detective Kane turned to me. "For what it's worth, I will never hold it against you. You did what you had to." I took out my wallet and yanked out an old receipt, and pulled a pen from my pocket to write down my phone number on it. I handed the paper to Kate. "Anyone bothers you, or if you need anything, you call me, okay?" Upon further consideration, I wrote on another receipt. "Give this to Julia, too."

Kate took the second one and stared at them in her hands, then looked up at me. "Thank you," she said. And I knew that held a world of meaning. I bowed my head. Kane escorted Kate away. Finally, I sighed, my shoulders dropping.

"What was that?" Catherine asked.

I turned to them. "I did what I had to."

They just looked at each other, obviously confounded at what I could mean and arriving at no answer. They looked back at me. "Hey the case is over, why don't we go grab breakfast?" Nick suggested.

I shook my head with a sniffle. "No thanks. You guys go ahead. I just wanna be alone right now."

They looked at each other and back at me again. "All right," Nick said.

And so they went, leaving me to myself. I clocked out, and headed out of the building; I did not have any specific location in mind, just the notion that I wanted to leave. But as soon as I opened the door and was hit with the glow of the setting sun and chilling air of the Vegas winter, the realisation that I indeed had nowhere to go struck me. I panted with the weight of it, tears suddenly springing to my eyes, and if anybody saw me and asked, I would have said that it was because of the cold. Weak in both body and spirit, I stumbled over to the bench off to the side and dropped myself on it, trying to collect my thoughts. But the more I thought, the sadder I became, and as much as I tried to hold back the cries, to combat the pain, I was helpless to fight and soon was crying fully into my hands.

I do not not know how long I sat there, only gathering that I was there for a good while, because I heard Gil saying, "I'm sorry-"

But before he could continue, Warrick cut him off, saying, "No need for that. I understand. I hope you two feel better."

"Thank you Warrick." I loved that shy, genuine tone. Warrick left, and I heard Gil's autistic trot approach me, and felt him lower himself onto the seat beside me; his scent flooded over my senses, going right up to my amygdala, and I groaned, forcing myself to keep it silent. It was the first positive thing my brain had processed in hours, and the relief rushed over it. "Hey," he said softly. "What's the matter?" I just kept quiet. "I heard about the case. However...I fail to understand why it affects you like this. Could you explain to me?"

I sniffled and shook my head, rubbing my eyes. "It's not something I can tell you about, Gil." My voice came out weak and high-pitched.

"And that's okay," he said gently, ever patient, the amazing man he was. "You know..." I heard the wry smile, "I had a pretty tough case too. I guess it's just like that for us today huh?" I could only sniffle in response. He wrapped his arms around me, and I tried to push him away, because him holding me made my pain worse, but still he held me tightly. "Cry because you need to. I promise, I welcome it. You're not bothering me at all." Finally, I gave in, collapsing in his firm embrace, crying into his chest. Always, he hugged me, letting me know he was there for me, gently kissing the top of my head. I heard him sigh, deep in his chest, and felt the muscular heave. I also felt his heart beating rapidly; I did not know that it was because he was in love with me, and he could not tell me. I, too, was in love with him; he was my best friend, and besides my feelings about the case, I could not tell him that.

I cried and he sat in solidarity with me for a long time, and it was sunset when I finished. We took a few minutes to admire the beauty of it, until the reds and oranges and yellows faded to give way to the black and blue and grey of early night. Then he turned to me. "I was actually headed to a comfort place earlier. I still want to go there. Would you like to come with me?"

His toothy smile was so cute and genuine that I turned my face away, hiding my pinkening face. "Um, yes," I said past the racing of my heart, a bit breathless because of it.

Smiling more now that I accepted, he took my hand and pulled me up, starting me on a walk with me. "We'll go in my car. I'll drop you off and pick you up tonight," he said. Even though I was used to his friendly gentlemanliness, I was still stunned everytime.

"Where are we going?" I asked once we were seated in his car and strapped in.

"You'll see!" he grinned playfully. I smiled and rolled my eyes, letting my friend take me wherever he wanted to.

"Okay, I know we're going to a rollercoaster. I just don't know which one."

He turned to look at me, both fear and excitement in his eyes at the mortifying ordeal of being known. "You know me so well," he said with a smile. He, too, had his breath stolen.

I smiled back at him. "I should like to think so. I don't consider you my best friend for nothing." With the uplifting mood of affectionate playfulness, we set off.

We pulled up outside the hotel of The Manhattan Express. Before we wasted our time going in or even getting out of the car, we looked up at it. "Do you feel like this one?"

I shuddered a little. "Um, I think it's too wild for me."

"Yeah," he accepted. "You know," he turned around to face me, "when I thought I was gonna ride alone, I intended to ride this one, but now that you're here, well, I wanna ride a different one."

"Sure thing but...what's the difference?"

He started driving again as we continued our conversation, and I looked ahead. "We're going to my favourite one. I just thought that, well, since you're my favourite person, I'd share my favourite rollercoaster with you."

A warm thrill shot through me at that, so much so that I actually shivered as my cheeks took on the heat. I was Gil's favourite person. I was Gil's favourite person? "I'm your favourite person?"

There was a heavy silence that suddenly fell on the car. "...yeah," he admitted, his voice restrained.

We said nothing until we arrived at the Mosaic Casino. "This is the same height as the Big Apple, but it doesn't have as many twists," he said casually as we closed the car doors.

I nodded and hummed in acknowledgement. "That's good enough for me. By the way, why is this your favourite?"

"My personal favourite view of the city. Despite its criminal activity, Vegas is beautiful at night...it was my dad's favourite." His voice softened with forlorn affection, a gentle sad frown creasing his brows. "He always promised he'd take me to this one when I was old and tall enough. On my ninth birthday we finally got to ride it together, him and my mom and I. A little over a month later, we rode it again, at nighttime." Here he paused and took a breath, steeling himself. "Then...the next day..." He hung his head, unable to continue; he did not need to, for I knew the story going forwards. I, too, had been frowning sadly as soon as he mentioned his father. When he was lost for words, I stepped around to his side and pulled him into a hug. He held me for emotional and physical support, resting his head on mine and sighing.

Always one to suppress his emotions, he soon pulled apart from me and took my hand, but did not say anything as he silently walked me to the coaster. When we got there, he wordlessly took out his wallet and paid the fee for the both of us before I could do anything. My instinct was to pay him back, but I could tell that he was not in the mood for conversation, so I kept quiet. We walked to the front of the ride. When we were in between the first two rows, Gil seemed to pause. He then turned around and stepped back to the second row, gently pushing me in first so that I would be sitting on the outer row. "More cosy, against the wall. You'll feel safer." His justification came out in a reluctant murmur, and I drew a sharp inhale and tensed because it was so delicate and close to my ear, the proximity of his lips only adding to the intimacy. But his gentle yet firm hands guided me on. Though his side would be alike when the door was closed, he was right about my perception being that the unmoving wall felt more solid. Once we were both seated he pulled the bar down over our legs.

The ride gently jolting to a start seemed to give him footing, for he spoke in a still-soft but less guilty voice, "When we came that night, there was no one else like how it is now. So I got the front seat all to myself while my parents sat behind me. I did not know why they were so insistent about me sitting in front of them, rather than one of them sitting beside me...and when we were about to go over the drop, I heard them giggling. I now understand that they had kissed." Though he was looking ahead, I could see there was a little smile in his face and eyes and heard it in his voice, and that made me smile too.

After what seemed like too quickly for me, we began the ascent. I gripped the leather of my seat tight and gripped my teeth as I swallowed, my breathing shallowing as sweat beaded on my forehead and I could feel it soaking through my shirt to the leather at my back too. Then, I felt a hand on my leg, caressing me in a way that I would only describe as sensual, setting off the greatest heat in my body. I looked at the man who was causing all that. "Nervous?" he asked, his eyes genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," I managed, just barely.

"It's okay honey. I'm right here." Oh, how that endearment sent thrills up and down my spine. His hand slid from my thigh to my hand, taking my grip in his despite the sweat, and mine immediately loosened, but kept ahold of his. He raised my hands to his lips and kissed it, where I could feel his breath just above it, and a yelp lost itself in my throat as my heart skipped yet another beat.

It took a little while for us to near the peak. When we were almost there, we turned to each other again. He glanced down at my lips, and I knew what he wanted; I indicated my assent silently by leaning towards him, and so he followed suit. We were used to kissing platonically...or at least, we had been. We had stopped a few years ago, when there had been a shift in atmosphere between us. Not that it had been a damper on our friendship - in fact, we were closer than ever, but for some reason it became...out of place, to kiss. Like the touch of our lips had a different meaning than the one it had of innocent friendship.

Even now as we kissed for the first time in years, it was jarringly different. It was...electric. Logically, we both knew that was due to the shocking stimulation on such a sensitive, intimate part of our bodies, but damn if the sparks did not make us jump back anyway. We stared at each other, stunned. Unfortunately, we did not have time to process it because we were - literally - thrown over the edge. I screamed my head off, but his manifestation of shock came out as a quiet gasp.

As the ride progressed, we felt better, the hurl of our bodies through the skies making it feel as if the air was wind rushing against us, and the adrenaline rising and spiking reciprocal to the inclines and drops of the course. Yes, it was the catharsis we both needed.

By the time the ride jerked to a stop, I let myself laugh as I was thrown back against the seat, and I swear I heard Gil chuckling through his closed mouth too. We turned to face each other. The instant our eyes met, the acknowledgement of the other person present immediately came over us, and we realised that we had been holding hands the whole time; I blushed as I looked down at them. And yet, neither one of us wanted to let go. Not even as we rid ourselves of our fastening, which we accomplished by putting our free hands on the bar and pushing in perfect synchronisation. Like always, he pulled me after him to walk to the car. It was only when we had to get in the car that we separated.

"Shall we get breakfast?" he asked. Because of our fucked up hours, breakfast was the meal we ate after shift/before bed, dinner was what we ate when we woke up/before shift, and lunch was what we had during lunch breaks, no matter the hours.

"Yeah. Food sounds good right about now."

"What'll we get?"

"MCDONALD'S!" I yelled, my fists rattling on the ceiling when I threw my hands up.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "You are such a child." I giggled exaggeratedly.

"It's what I feel like eating after my stomach's been thrown about like that."

"Okay that's fair." He was aware that that had happened because of him. I giggled and whooped as I had gotten my way and we were going to McDonald's - well, not that he had any objections or alternative ideas in the first place.

After a meal that brought us some cheer after the morning's dreariness, he drove me back to my place. He got out of his car and walked me up to my front door. "Well...this is where we say goodbye," I said amiably...why did that feel so permanent? I knew I was going to see him later in the night, but, why did the notion of leaving him feel so heavy? It felt like it was dragging me back, back, even closer, ever closer to him.

"Y-yeah..." By the way he turned his head away and forced a smile, I could tell that he felt it, too.

I almost pounced on him to embrace him, and he immediately took me into his arms, holding me tight, neither of us wanting to let go.

Breathlessly, we pulled apart, because he had to speak to me urgently, "Come stay at my place. I don't wanna leave us yet."

I nodded desperately. "Yes. I will."

His eyes darted about and then back to me, as quick as his thinking process. "Go in and pack. Get clothes, toiletries, whatever you need." All too eager, I hurried in and got what I needed and rejoined him; he had been waiting in the exact spot where I left him, hands in his pockets, fidgeting nervously. We made the journey to his abode.

When we got there, he flicked on a little lighting and showed me around. His bedroom was the last destination. "So, have you decided where you'd like to sleep yet?" he asked me.

I hung my head, sheepish. "Um..." I rubbed my neck.

"It's okay. You can decide later. For now you can go and freshen up. Do you need anything?"

"No thanks, I brought all my own stuff."

"All right."

I backtracked to the bathroom he had shown me and did my ablutions. When I was done, I timidly stepped to his room to find the door close. Nervously, I raised my fist and rapped my knuckles on the door. "It's open," I heard. I opened the door smell and feel a gentle blanket of shower humidity; he had cleaned up in his en suite bathroom. He was lying on top of the blanket, completely in the dark. I could just make out that he was lying on his back with his arm underneath his head, despite having the pillow in between them. His other hand rested on his big belly, making him look rather cute. "What'dya need?" he asked, turning his head to me.

Nervously, I fidgeting with backpack strap. "Um, I didn't know where to go so I-"

"It's okay," he smiled at me kindly. His arm moved from under the pillow to pat the space beside him. "You can stay here. At least, until you don't want to anymore." My cheeks heated up, but I stiffly stepped forwards, closing the door behind me. As I approached, he moved himself under the covers and held them up for me. I dropped my bag beside the bed and got in, snuggling right up to him; platonic cuddling was another thing we used to do until we stopped, and like the...what we had done on the rollercoaster, this was the first of it in years.

He took to me like a duck to water and cuddled me, and I never felt any greater comfort than when he brought me into his arms with his soft cotton t-shirt. It was probably his grey one. Testing my theory, I slid my hand down to slightly squeeze the material of his lower wear, and smiled when I felt that it was his black pair of favourite pyjama bottoms. "What're you doing?" he hummed, playing with the hem of my short sleeve absent-mindedly.

"Just seeing what clothes you're wearing," I smiled. There it was again, the increased pace of his heart. It seemed that he was incapable of speech, for he just quickly kissed the top of my head good-night and held me tightly, neither of us wanting to move from our close embrace, and we fell asleep that way. At ten o' clock we got up, freshener up, and left to get dinner. We went to a vegetarian place that served tasty mushroom soup, as well as salad, and then went on to work as if nothing had happened.

In fact, that was the way it stayed for a long while, and yet not so at the same time. The rest of the team were already used to us being extremely close, both literally and figuratively, so that was nothing new to anyone. And kissing and cuddling was not new either, more of picking up and old habit. However, though the actions were the same, the bearing behind them was drastically different; both Gil and I knew, felt, as much, but we were too afraid to say anything about it.  This was how we carried on for the better part of two and a half years.

It was only when this time period was drawing to a conclusion that a changed happened.  Not anything directly influenced by our relationship, but welcome nonetheless:  Gilbert Arthur decided to grow a beard.

It was on one such night where I had slept over at his place that I had the privilege of being the first to discover the change.  I was ready for the day and came to find Gil looking at himself in the mirror, incessantly running his hand over his chin.  "Should I shave?"  he asked when he saw my reflection.

"If you're having doubts about it and want to go with something different, then do so.  It's harmless and rectifiable anyway," I shrugged.

"Yeah...cause I'm getting tired of shaving, honestly," he said, opening the mirror cabinet and putting his razor, shaving cream and aftershave - whose scent drove me insane - inside.

"Okay then."  He turned around to face me, and I was a little bit winded as I studied him; he looked good, and a blush came to my cheeks as I let my imagination go on.

"What're you smiling at?"  he asked genially.

I somehow had the boldness to look into his eyes; perhaps that was the only thing keeping me from staring at his stubble.  "I think you'd look good with a beard," I admitted - and, since when had the blood travelled to my ears?

To dispel his flusteredness, he quirked a brow.  "Oh really?  Then I'll keep it for you."

I coughed and looked away.  "Uhm, no need for that.  Keep it because you want to."

"Yeah, and because my favourite person wants me too."  I definitely felt my face heat up even more as my heart thumped harder, pumping more blood to it, and I buried my face in my hands; jesus, he was trying to kill me!

We got to work, entering our lab with me clutching his arm, trying not to come off as bashful as I really was.  Catherine's mouth dropped open in a smile when she was Gil.  "Well helloooooo handsome," she teased.  I scoffed through my nose and looked away; no, the feeling I was experiencing was not jealousy, definitely not...because Catherine and Gil playfully flirted like how I did with Gil, and in fact Gil and I were worse, so why would it be any different, or have any effect on me?

Of course I was ignoring the fact that this was the same feeling I had everytime Cath and Gil flirted.  I did not know it at the time, but Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Greg all noticed my reaction.  I - indeed, both Gil and I - also did not know that we were the last ones to know how we felt about each other.

And so this continued, represented by by the growth of Gil's beard, and me becoming even more and more...well, either I did not know what I was feeling, or I was wilfully denying it (it was the latter).  Until one day, Catherine and I were sitting companiobly in the break room.  Gil was standing in the hallway, within my view.  And, he had his side to me, his very attractive profile, bracketed by his loose navy blue bomber jacket and matching slacks, shaping nicely his...behind.  He had his arm up with his phone to his ear, his jaw moving as he talked and stopping when he listened, but the hand towards me was stuffed into his pocket, and thus I had an unobscured view of his bushy brown beard, now in its fully formed glory.

My view was interrupted when Catherine gently came in front of me, waving a hand in my face.  "Wipe your drool before it gets on the table."  I snapped out of it, in literal sense as my head and backed jerked so I was yanked to the present, and tentatively touched my fingertips to the side of my mouth; it was mostly dry, but I did feel the weight of the drool almost coming out on my lips, so I swallowed, and willed my salivary glands to not be so productive.

Catherine let herself descend onto the seat in front of me, but tactfully, deliberately, chose a seat that would leave me having a clear view of the man I was...attracted to.  "Listen..."  she said kindly.  "I know you're in love with him, and he's in love with you, everybody knows that, so why don't you tell him?  And don't you dare say that it's just a crush - we all know it's much deeper and substantial than that."

But my cheeks and ears pinkened halfway through her statement.  "What do you mean 'everybody knows' ?" I squeaked.

She looked at me like she was questioning my life choices.  "(Y/n)...I'm sure you aren't blind to the way he reacts to you, much less the way you react to him, and you air it out in the open for all of us to see. It's not like you have tried hiding it.  At all, even.  Sure you're best friends, and that's great, but there's something else there too.  The way you blush whenever you touch or smile at each other.  The way you always stare for a little too long.  The way you take in his scent when you hug like he's the oxygen you require for survival - we hear that sometimes, when you've not seen each other and gone through a sucky case, and you're all too relieved to collapse onto each other."  I hid my face in my hands when she told me that they could hear my breathing.  "And the way...the way you kiss.  We've seen you kiss before, but lately it's been different.  You've been doing it longer, sometimes even moving a little when you think nobody is watching.  A big step away from the standard quick peck.  We assumed you guys were a couple and waited for you to tell us in your own time - but that time never came.  You carried on like how you always have, dancing around each other, not admitting anything to anyone, least of all yourselves.  And what I...what we all wanna know is, why?"  I hesitated to answer, and she stroked my arm.

That comforted me enough to look at her.  "Cath...what you have to understand is, he's my best.  Friend.  I can't do anything to change that..."  I cast my eyes down.  "I don't want to..."

I could hear her concerned frown.  "Why not?"

"Because...because we already have a good thing going...h-he-...."  Here my breath oscillated, my chest shaking as my windpipe contracted irregularly, and Catherine gripped my arm to ground me.  "He's...he's the best thing ever to happen to me.  I don't want to lose that..."

There was a noticeable but not necessarily uncomfortable silence as Catherine processed.  A little later, she breathed out through her nose, indicating that she was ready to speak.  "I can't say how I know how you feel.  Or how he feels, really.  I've never been, nor have I seen anyone, so afraid to take what's right in front of them.  I say this as a friend."

I pressed my lips together to steel myself before speaking, "Well...you're not used to everything you had being taken away from you.  Not the way him and I do."

Her eyes softened.  "I suppose that's true.  But," here she drew back, "take it from someone who can see the two of you as you are now:  you both clearly want to be together; that much is obvious.  All that's needed is one of you to take a step in the right direction."  She stood up.  "I'll leave you space to gather your thoughts."  She walked away, and I was left to sit there and process.

A few cases earlier, a similar scenario had occured between Gil and Warrick.  Gil was in his office, putting the details of their case on a sheet of paper in chronological order to try and make sense of what had happened.  "Hey Gris," Warrick called from his doorway, making him look up.  "Lab results on the blood we found at the scene came back."  He was holding up the beige folder to present it to his boss.

Gil's eyes moved around Warrick, trying to find something even though everything that was relevant was right in front of him, his jaw slacked in thought.  Finally, his eyes met Warrick's.  "Where's (y/n)?"

Warrick was not any offended at all; he understood what was going on.  Oh he was pining all right; Warrick could see it in his eyes, searching for his love who was currently lost to him.  But he played it off - of course he had to.  "Oh she's back at the scene, looking for more evidence."  He held the folder out to Gil and he took it, opening it and looking at the report.  "DNA was a confirmed match to Rogers, so now (y/n) is looking for evidence that places him there within the timeframe of the murder.  I'm to go check up on that girlfriend of his who gave him his alibi."

At that, Gil raised his head with a smile from the side of his mouth.  "She chose the blazing desert heat over people huh?"

Warrick had to smile too; they knew that was a constant with (y/n), the second misanthropic humanist of the family, who fit so well with Grissom.  The latter closed the file and handed it to Warrick when he was done.  "Hey listen," he cleared his throat as he took it, "about (y/n), when are you gonna do anything about her?"

Gil's glanced flickered to the side in thought then back to Warrick.  "What do you mean?"

Oh dear.  He was completely clueless.  "C'mon.  You know I'm talking about how you two're always lovin' up on each other, always coming close to acting on what's there but never actually doing it."

Gil sighed through his nose and crossed his arms under his chin, leaning down on the table.  "She's my best friend...and I intend to keep it that way.  I don't want to do anything to spoil that..."

"Trust me!"  Warrick said, surprising Gil with his chipperness, causing him to jerk his head to look up at him, "You won't!"  He then took out his phone.  "I'm sending a picture to (y/n).  I think she thinks you look adorable like this."  Gil let it happen.  When Warrick was done, they bade each other goodbye, and Gil was left to think about what Warrick had said to him.

The time came for us to work the Jim Nevins case.  It was beautiful to me, to see Gil joyously working with his beloved rollercoaster.  It was obvious from the moment he responded to Greg as to why one person was so much farther away than the others.  Of course he remained the consummate professional as always, but his enthusiasm about the case was tangible...which came to an especially concerning head when he talked about the stimulatory effect experienced when riding rollercoasters.  I looked at him.  "How and why do you know this?"  I was sure my face was contorted funny.

"A science magazine."

"Okay."  I was happy to leave it at that.

When we were walking and discussing evidence, he was eating popcorn, and I had no qualms about stealing some from him; he ended up letting me share, and it was really sweet, both literally and figuratively.

Zack's confession did strike a gentle cord in us.  Especially when he told us about Lisa taking his hand; both Gil and I understood how much that affected someone who was in love with another.  "You must've have thought it meant something, didn't you?"  Gil asked.  Zack nodded, and in that moment, he looked nothing more than a forlorn boy who was in love.  But when he said that everybody else had died just because he had forgotten to tighten the screws, Gil and I looked at each other.  "What the fuck," I signed.  He merely raised an eyebrow.

At the case' conclusion, Gil and I were sitting at one of the tables at the amusement park, snacking and conversing.  I was already in heaven just hearing and seeing his elation as he infodumped about the various coasters he loved, their tracks, and boasting that he was the marathon record holder for The Steel Phantom in Pennsylvania - that was honestly impressive.  But there was also this very physical thing that he was doing...where, when he paused speech to take his drink, instead of looking for where his straw was and moving to it, he felt about with his mouth and tongue before taking it into his mouth.  It was...distracting, to say the least.  He noticed my transfixed gaze, and was able to pinpoint exactly what my obvious and very directed gaze was trained on.  Still, he raised an eyebrow and asked teasingly, "What?"  My eyes flickered to his, but darted away again as I covered my reddening face with my hand, for even through his sunglasses, I could feel the burning intensity of his gaze.  I was incapable of speech.  I was saved when he invited, "Come here.  Kiss me."  He did not have to tell me twice.  I stood up halfway and leant over to him, holding the side of his face for support.  Like Catherine had called me out for, it was not a brief kiss, and when I pulled away, I was panting for breath, my face on fire as my heart sent blood coursing through my body.  But of course, that could not be left at that.  "So...what does this mean for us?"  he asked.

I took a sip of my drink to calm myself down.  "Listen, um...there's something about me that...that you don't know and, one of the reasons why I haven't dared to do anything about this.  I promise I'll tell you.  Give me time."

He nodded, understanding.  "All right."

That time came a month later.  The Pharaoh's Fever was back up and running, and Gil and I decided to ride it.  It was fun - and, definitely much more comfortable to me than the bigger ones at the hotels on the Strip.  We decided not to sleep and went straight to work, starting early.  It was only in the darkness of the lab that we were accustomed to where we really took notice of each other's physical bearing.  Even though it was summer, we both wore jackets during the month (save for when we went out into the desert), earning a, "Are you fucking insane," from Warrick.

"Uh, the autism says we have to wear these," Gil had deadpanned, sending me into giggles.

But presently, after the ride and the rubbing of the seatbelts against them, our close jackets had been moved a little.  Gil took notice of something sticking out under my jacket.  "What's that?"  he asked.

I had promised to tell him, and in the spirit of the month, I felt that it was the right time.  I took it out to show him:  it was a small cloth mock-up of the bisexual flag, which I had safety-pinned under my jacket.  "This is what I've been keeping from you.  It..."  I put it back; no need for anyone else to see it.  "I didn't want to get involved with you, because...in case this changed anything."  I glanced down at his chest and saw that he had something hidden there, too.  "What's that?"

He showed me; a small flag with a black triangle on the left, a white section on the top, and a grey one on the bottom, separated by a purple strip. "Well..." he smiled bashfully as he tucked it away as I had done, "I was actually worried about this too. You know this means I only form attractions to the people I'm close to, and...you're the one I'm closest to. It's not that I mind being this way; that's one religious trauma we don't share, I don't think, but I did fear that it's frighten you, because...well, all my romantic emotions are invested in you only, and I'm scared of their intensity. It often gets physically uncomfortable."

My soft smile reached my eyes, and my breathing was relaxed. "You know...even though I'm the opposite as you, well not exactly so, but still, I'm scared of my feelings, too. It usually isn't easy for me to talk about them but, you doing it makes it so...thank you. Um," I glanced away and cleared my throat then back at him, "you're right about me not accepting myself because of...that reason. I thought you wouldn't accept me. I sure am not used to people doing that, for any reason."

He smiled and pulled me in for a hug. "Well, I hope you know now that there's at least one person who does." He felt me nod against him. He leant back, and lowered his head, and for the first time ever, we kissed, for real. It was no longer stolen and guilty, but romantic and relaxed, like we could have it, like we owned it, like it belonged to us - because we could and it did. When we went home - yes, home, to his place - that was when we consummated our relationship, unhurried, loving, sweet. We fell asleep holding each other so close and so happily.

When we got to work that night, we walked in holding hands, unabashed for all to see. We went to our family and excitedly announced ourselves to them, to eruptions of cheering and, "Finally!"

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 1.4

Beer Birthdays

Charles Deulin (1827)

Denis Holliday (1917)

Derek Walsh (1958)

Kevin Pratt (1962)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Les Brown; big band leader, jazz musician (1912)

Albert Camus; author, existentialist (1913)

Matt Frewer; actor (1958)

Jakob Grimm; fairy tale author (1785)

Michael Stipe; rock musician (1960)

Famous Birthdays

Henri Bergson; philosopher (1865)

James Bond; ornithologist (1900)

Tom Borton; jazz saxophonist (1956)

Louis Braille; Braille inventor (1809)

Dyan Cannon; actress (1937)

A. E. Coppard; English poet & short story writer (1878)

Charles Deulin; French folk tale writer (1827)

Everett Dirksen; politician (1896)

Guy Pène du Bois; painter (1884)

Max Eastman; writer (1883)

Dave Foley; actor, comedian (1963)

Tito Fuentes; baseball player (1944)

Doris Kearns Goodwin; historian and author (1943)

Leroy Grumman; engineer & businessman (1895)

Marsden Hartley; painter & poet (1877)

Derrick Henry; football player (1994)

Sterling Holloway; actor (1905)

Nora Iuga; Romanian poet (1931)

Augustus John; Welsh painter and illustrator (1878)

Brian Josephson; Welsh physicist (1940)

Wilhelm Lehmbruck; German sculptor (1881)

Vesa-Matti Loiri; Finnish actor, musician & comedian (1945)

Patty Loveless; country singer (1957)

Ann Magnuson; actress, performance artist (1956)

André Masson; French painter & illustrator (1896)

John McLaughlin; musician (1942)

Lionel Newman; pianist & composer (1916)

Julia Ormond; actor (1965)

Floyd Patterson; boxer (1935)

Barbara Rush; actress (1927)

Benjamin Rush; physician, politician (1746)

Julian Sands; actor (1958)

Richard R. Schrock; chemist (1945)

William Robert Sherman; character in Stephen King's Hearts in Atlantis

Don Shula; football coach (1930)

Tom Thumb; entertainer (1838)

James Ussher; bishop, calculated Earth began Nov. 23,.4004 BCE (1581)

Gao Xingjian; Chinese novelist, playwright (1940)

Charlyne Yi; actor, comedian, musician & writer (1986)

[mybookplacenet]

Featured Author Interview: Janice Rostron

Tell us about yourself.: I am a Professional Organizer and the owner/operator of Just Focus and Reorganize, LLC (JFR). I started playing guitar as a shy, introverted 12-year-old. In my late twenties, I tackled my stage fright and joined a band. I have since played shows throughout California and have recorded two full-length albums and one EP (during which time I earned the moniker “Janice F'n Reid” a.k.a. “JFR”). I received a BA in Legal Studies (with a minor in Music) from UC Berkeley and have since joined the Cal Alumni Association. GO BEARS! I then earned an MEd and a Multiple Subject teaching credential from UCLA. I worked as a public elementary school teacher for eight years before deciding to pursue a career in Professional Organizing. I am an active member of the National Association of Productivity and Organizing Professionals (NAPO). I have earned NAPO Specialist Certificates in Workplace Productivity and Team Productivity. I served as the Los Angeles chapter’s Treasurer for the 2016–2017 term. I was the leader of NAPO’s Environmentally-Conscious Organizers special interest group for the 2020–2023 terms. I am also a subscriber to the Institute for Challenging Disorganization (ICD) and have earned a Level II Chronic Disorganization Specialist Certificate. I love working one-on-one with my clients and enjoy speaking to groups about organization and productivity. In 2022, I moved to Denver to grow the business … and purchase my first home. Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: I grew up in Littlerock, CA which is a small, desert town in Southern California. I am not sure how this influenced my writing. Back then, I wrote dark, angsty poetry but that had more to do with adolescence than where I grew up. Now, my writing is much more positive and action-focused. Do you have any unusual writing habits? I am not sure if it is unusual, but I can only write in the afternoon. What authors have influenced you? I grew up in Littlerock, CA which is a small, desert town in Southern California. I am not sure how this influenced my writing. Back then, I wrote dark, angsty poetry but that had more to do with adolescence than where I grew up. Now, my writing is much more positive and action-focused. Do you have any advice for new authors? Don't get overwhelmed by how much there is to do to write, publish, and market a book. Decide what the next step is and schedule it into your calendar. Focus on one action item at a time. What is the best advice you have ever been given? You can't do it all! What are you reading now? Tiny Habits by BJ Fogg Julia by Sandra Newman What's your biggest weakness? Over-analyzing What is your favorite book of all time? Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? I still play guitar when I can and enjoy going to rock, punk, and metal shows. I love food and am always looking for the next restaurant to try. I like taking walks around town and going for hikes. Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? I was an avid reader and made frequent trips to the library so I am not sure I can remember the first story I ever read. However, I LOVED reading Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman and The Monster at the End of This Book by Jon Stone. Even though I knew everything worked out in the end, but I really enjoyed taking the journey with them. What has inspired you and your writing style? My teaching experience has inspired my writing style. I am striving to simplify everything and make even the more complex, overwhelming things in life understandable and actionable. What are you working on now? Since my first book came out a little over a month ago, I am working on promoting that right now. What is your favorite method for promoting your work? My favorite methods for promoting my work is through social media and speaking to groups about the productivity systems in my book. What's next for you as a writer? Although I am not ready to start on another writing project, I would love to write a book about how to be environmentally-conscious when you are decluttering and organizing your home. How well do you work under pressure? I am definitely not working at my best under pressure. I would much rather finish early than work up the last second of a deadline. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? I write self-help/how-to so I use my tone which is to-the-point with occasional wry humor. If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? Simplify everything! Janice Rostron's Author Websites and Profiles Website Amazon Profile Goodreads Profile Janice Rostron's Social Media Links Facebook Page Instagram LinkedIn Read the full article

[andronetalks]

The top doctor for CBP tried to order fentanyl lollipops for a helicopter mission in New York, whistleblowers say

NBC News Feb. 16, 2024, 6:00 AM ESTBy Julia Ainsley The chief medical officer for Customs and Border Protection pressured his staff to order fentanyl lollipops for him to take to the United Nations General Assembly meeting in New York in September, according to a whistleblower report sent to Congress on Friday. The whistleblowers said Dr. Alexander Eastman’s staff raised questions about why he…

[30032]

2024

Rainy Miller, Space Afrika - A Grisaille Wedding (2023) Loukeman - Sd-2 James Ferraro - Genware I: DIHCRO James Ferraro - Genware II: Eigen Embryo Flaer - Preludes Fabiano do Nascimento, Sam Gendel - The Room Astrid Sonne - Great Doubt Shuttle358 - Understanding Wildlife (2014) James Ferraro - Genware III: Neuralpaint Irena and Vojtech Havlovi - Like a Butterfly On Your Palm Felix Rosch - Fragmente Kali Malone - All Life Long Maxime Denuc - Nachthorn Ariana Grande - eternal sunshine Nene H - ISSA SCAM Moor Mother - The Great Bailout Sleep inc. - (ambient) Biosphere - Patashnik (Decrypted by Sketch) Beyoncé - COWBOY CARTER Kelly Moran - Moves in the Field Clarissa Connelly - Work of Work Sibylle Baier - Colour Green (2006) Ulla, Ultrafog - It Means a Lot Sam Gendel, Sam Wilkes - The Doober Jessica Pratt - Here in the Pitch slowerpace 音楽 - Barbershop Simulator (2023) Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo slowerpace 音楽 - SPACE COWBOYS Marina Satti - P.O.P. Charli XCX - Brat Clara La Sana - Made Mistakes Alter Boy - 808 Dogma Richie Culver - Hostile Environments British Murder Boys - Active Agents and House Boys Tove Lo, SG Lewis - HEAT EP Pontiac Streator - Sone Glo (2022) Lanark Artefax - Metallur Ex-Easter Island Head - Norther Ex-Easter Island Head - Twenty Two Strings (2016) COBRAH - SUCCUBUS (2023) Terry Riley - Descending Moonshine Dervishes (1982) Tama Gucci - Notes to Self Mietze Conte - Mietzee Mietze Conte - dreaming of your latte art (2023) Loidis - One Day Etelin - Patio User Manual Toxe - Toxe2 Lia Kohl - Normal Sounds Doon Kanda - Lili Devin Maxwell - Timebending Ferrara - Wuthering Heights 1tbspn - megacity1000 Laurie Anderson - Amelia Paddy McAloon (Prefab Sprout) - I Trawl the Megahertz (2003) Sarah Davachi - The Head As Form'd in the Crier's Choir Lustmord - Much Unseen Is Also Here Damian Dalla Torre - I Can Feel My Dreams Dialect - Atlas of Green Colin Self - lemniscate Theo Alexander - Animadversions (2020) Taylor Deupree - Sti.ll Cruel Diagonals - Calcite EP Louis Andriessen - De Staat (1976) Taylor Deupree - Faint (2012) Donna Summer - Love Trilogy (1976) Louis Andriessen - Rosa: Death of a Composer (1994) Julius Eastman - Femenine (2016) Caroline Shaw - Caroline Shaw: The Wheel (2022) Mareux - Lovers From the Past (2023) Oliver Coates - Throb, shiver, arrow of time alva noto - Xerrox, Vol.5 Hesaitix - Noctian Airgap Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet - Bach: The Art of Fugue (2006) Bibio - Phantom Brickworks (LPII) Kanii - The Heart Racers EP Kanii - it was nice knowing u EP (2023) Julia Wolfe - The String Quartets (2011) Mj Nebreda - Corázon Club vol.1 Despina - Fire From Heat Keru Not Ever - Mezzanine Ice Spice - Y2K! Blood of Aza - Heart Worries Prurient - Retaliation Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement - Gray Eucalyptus Tranquility (2023) Colin Stetson - The love it took to leave you KAVARI - Laudanum (86)

[vufcup]

if you love history and signed up with patreon.com/Vufcup tier #4 then last week we got to learn about Tomaso Giovanni Albinoni, a hugely popular composer in his day but due to most of his work being lost, is relatively unknown now...but not if Vufcup has anything to say about it! and we also learned about a man that was a direct descendent to Christopher Reeve, Hugh Hefner, Clint Eastwood, Julia Child, The Baldwin Brothers, George Eastman, Sally Field and John Lithgow. the video is archived on patreon now and we have the new history lesson up where we are discussing my least favourite Beatles album that spanned a 2 year recording gap, had advanced orders of 3.7 million as well as a whole new album being released between this album's 1st and 2nd single. and we also get to learn about Samuel Adams, a deadbeat dad with a Harvard graduation who was deemed "The Most Dangerous Man In Massachusetts" (at Santa Clarita, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoaKtOpPwB9/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gayideaguy]

evidence

i DID read all of these except for the one specified.

not pictured:

-all the authors ripping off their actual successes like the pigeon goes to school or clifford takes a shit or whatever the hell. those are all f tier

-one of my favorites, "good news, bad news" which i couldnt find in the room where books are kept. thats a tier

S TIER:

-everything is connected by jason gruhl, illustrated by ignasi font. can't really communicate how good this one is, makes me want to write picture books

-happy (says mies van hout and lemniscaat but i dont know who the author is out of those). highly expressive drawings of fish paired with simple labels of emotions. i LOVE things that encourage kids to look at more abstract art

A TIER:

-pete the cat and his four groovy buttons, written by eric litwin and illustrated by painter james dean who i believe did pete the cat before he was books. cute and not nearly enough childrens books with a message of "don't worry too much"

-harry the dirty dog by gene zion, illustrated by margaret bloy graham. a fascinating allegory for the human condition and it teaches kids about negative space

-not quite narwhal by jessie sima. very nice and positive outlook on multiple identities, perfectly executed. twee but who cares

-on the night you were born by nancy tillman. highly joyful and lightly religious.

-meesha makes friends by tom percival. about autism, kinda heavy handed, still nice

-what will fit? by grace lin. visual mathematics and spatial reasoning. too rare in books for young children

-bringing the rain to kapiti plain by verna aardema illustrated by beatriz vidal. lovely fairy tale, nice rhyming, was one of my favorites as a kid

-the red book by barbara lehman. no words, fascinating storytelling. loses a few points because its reliant on the kid audience paying close attention

-the color kittens by margaret wise brown. the best classic little golden book ive ever seen by far. little more than that.

-go, dog, go! by pt eastman. a good seuss disciple until the part where all the dogs have a party in the tree, a concept which i remember bringing great delight to me and other young girls

-the family book by todd parr. todd the legend. this is his only book here and it's a perfect a. nothing noteworthy but books like this dont need to be

-ten little fingers and ten little toes by mem fox, illustrations by helen oxbury. the best of the "youre a baby" books here. nice and cute message of all babies on earth but loses points because there have to be some babies born with a different amount of digits right

B TIER:

-i see you (by?) eric carle. eric the legend. this one is adorable, exactly the quality youd expect from such an artist.

-fry bread by kevin noble maillard, illustrated by juana martinez-neal. massive bonus points for the pages covered with tribe names. great example of how to introduce things like this to kids without downplaying the size of history

-the mouse, the strawberry, and the big hungry bear by don and audrey wood, illustrated by don wood. i just realized myparents are gonna be really mad if they come home and the floor is covered in books. even cuter when i realized its written by two people.

-walking together by elder albert d marshall and louise zimanyi, illustrated by emily kewageshig. simple injection of native spirituality, would cause kids to ask questions (good)

-the umbrella by beth ferry and tom lichtenheld. simple but holds attention perfectly until the payoff.

-the very hungry caterpillar by eric carle. eric the legend. classic on its own. nothing to say

-abuela by arthur dorros, illustrated by elisa kleven. another sweet family story. extra love that it teaches spanish without feeling catered towards english speaking white kids.

-thunder bunny by barbara helen berger. best of all the "animal is born with a weird trait" stories present for its shameless mythologization.

-here and now by julia denos, illustrated by e b goodale. a lot of basic stuff about mindfulness that wouldve went in one of my ears and out the other, but i think they hit on more by asking children to think directly about the book being in their hands or their teachers hands, their bodies being positioned in relation to that, the floor and ground, and so on. its almost like simulation psychadelics in that sense

-the tenth good thing about barney by judith viorst, illustrated by erik blegvad. good basic meditation on death but wordy

-mr brown can moo! can you? by dr seuss. theodore. i wasnt going to put this any higher because i have nothing to say but what could i complain about

-a little stuck by oliver jeffers. apparently an abridged version of stuck? boring but thats the point, which is a good artistic concept to introduce to kids. i would talk about it if i were a librarian

-goodnight moon by margaret wise brown. was always boring to me, but legendary as a work of poetry

-the empty pot by demi (no further information). i love classical allegories!! i dont know if children do so much though

-in the attic by hiawyn oram, illustrated by satoshi kitamura. kind of story thats overdone except for the twist at the end which wraps it up nicely.

-og clifford by norman bridwell. i forgot there was an actual premise in the first book

C TIER:

-moon by britta teckentrap. cute concept, wouldve bored me.

-little you by richard camp, illustrated by julie flett. also lovely but would have bored me.

-it's spring! by samantha berger and pamela chanko, illustrated by melissa sweet. was expecting this to be nothing but it's definitely something. interesting that this one took two people to write though

-where the wild things are by maurice sendak. never cared about it as a kid but legendary art.

-little blue truck by alice schertle, illustrated by jill mcelmurry. the best of all the "relatively small machine" stories present.

-a friend for growl bear by margot austin illustrated by david mcphail. some fake ass last names in here. one of my favorites as a child but it also made me sad until the last page

-the snowy day by ezra jack keats. god tier illustrations, wouldve bored me.

-are you my mother by p d eastman. nice, classic. been aped plenty.

-my heart fills with happiness by monique gray smith, illustrations by julie flett. hold on pause post. another one that does nothing wrong but i would not have taken much from it

-don't let the pigeon drive the bus! by mo willems. very great concept leaning into child contrarianism, i saw an interactive childrens theater play based on it once and it was very fun

-"huggy kissy" and "potty", from a series of other books with similar names, by leslie patricelli. unexpectedly cute and concise but expectedly very basic, no points for narrative effort

-blueberry girl by neil gaiman, illustrated by charles ves (?) i cant see the name now in the photo i took. as i read this i thought "this is nicely structured and sweet but has weird appropriative white people vibes". then i saw the author and that made sense. my prayer for neil gaimans daughter is a bit different: break contact asap

-lloyd finds his whalesong by skylaar amann. not particularly unique but a good opportunity to teach about different forms of communication between humans and animals

-along came a fox by geogiana deutsch, illustrated by cally johnson-isaacs. story concept is b tier but the aesthetics chosen are simply too generic

-full, full, full of love by trish cooke illusrated by paul howard. this one is boring by way of plot but pro-soul food family books can only go so wrong. as things stand theres too many books about white children eating apple slices with grandpa i dont fucking care

-aberts tree by jenni desmond. interestingly, uses the same forest aesthetics i hated in along came a fox, but i dont find them as grating here. the story is ok

-all you need for a snowman by alice schertle, illustrated by barbara lavalee. as a child i did not understand the premise that the children are doing a stone soup type of thing. to me it was just a book about snowmen with an increasing number of words in the same sentence which is pretty common for childrens books

D TIER:

-the mole sisters and the question, other mole sisters books, by roslyn schwartz. for some reason reading these made me genuinely mad but i cant dock too many points because i literally cant put my finger on why

-the hike by allison farrell. LOVE the words on each page labelling the visible elements of nature. dont really care about any other part of this

-stellaluna by janell cannon. sorry but i think this one is boring. you only liked it because you thought the bat was cute. overhyped

-i am perfectly designed by karamo brown, with jason "rachel" brown, illustrated by annosha syed. theoretically sweet and moving but the art style does something bad to my feelings towards humanity

-lola reads to leo, lola plants a garden, lola visits the library by anna mcquinn. very goody two shoes, would have hated this, but slightly better production quality than most other equivalent books. ranked in order of most to least premise

-outside in by underwood/derby (??). very preachy. important subject, but not a lot of room for kids to think about it for themselves

-the lion and the mouse by jerry pinkney. i love when fables are retold in a more conscious and empathetic manner like this and i like wordless stories but the realistic art style combined with no words wouldve meant i tuned out instantly if this was ever "read" to me like it would instantly dissolve in my brain

-tumble bumble by felicia bond. plotless and the art style makes me sigh but i also "liked" this one a lot when i was young (prompted thoughts of spatial reasoning in my mind, i actually remember finding it a bit frustrating)

-the piggy in the puddle by charlotte pomerantz, illustrated by james marshall. art is very cute to me as an adult but i wouldve disliked this for the general lack of payoff

-let's go, froggy! by i cant tell the page is ripped. subject matter is something i was deeply frustrated by as a child but in theory i like these kinds of narratives where parents make the same mistake as their children. execution is mediocre.

-i am a bunny by ole risom, pictures by richard scarry. holy shit i dont care. im so mad at the idea of trying to form an opinion on this

- i am a mouse by ole risom, pictures by richard scarry. are you fucking shitting me dude

-annie and the wild animals by jan brett. i also dont know what the hell i could possibly say about this one. ranked lower than the others for feeling slightly pretentious without the presence of any intelligence to justify it.

-the maybe garden by kimberly burke-weiner, illustrated by fredrika p spillman. this is a bad picture book for children but honestly a pretty good one for adults. i think the value of the message and tone would be lost on children it would just be really boring to them

-i can do it! by trish holland, illustrated by vanessa brantley newton. this is a childrens book written to appeal to adults, not like the one i just described above being good for adults to read, but for adults to feel good about giving to their kids who will not care because its just a portrayal of a child going to school. i remember books like this having a condescending feeling that made me mad though i didnt know why at the time. its because theres nothing for a child to get from this its for parents

-a fox found a box by ged adamson. same watercolor woodland aesthetics i hate, story adds nothing to make it worthwhile

-mike mulligan and his steam shovel by virginia lee burton. love the personification of the steam shovel, everything else is dismal

F TIER:

-many moons by james thurber, illustrated by louis slobodkin. i usually like fairy tales more than this. i think i always hated stories where characters were tricked superficially like this by people close to them because i was scared of that

-seeds and trees by brandon walden, illustrated by kristen and kevin howdeshell. what the hell did the author of this book do. this is some james sunderland shit

-the rainbabies by laura krauss melmed, illustrated by jim lamarche. boring and i hate how close the old people are to you in the drawings. i like the old man on the back pogging though

-bear and wolf by daniel salmieri. waste of paper. literally what was the fucking point of this

-elizabeth hen by siobahn dodds. wouldve been a great way to teach about the difference between fertilized and unfertilized eggs but thats too close to sex i guess so lets just waste more fucking time and paper and ink

-good dog, carl by alexandra day. seems like someone politely informing you of a better childrens book you could write than this one

-charlies superhero underpants by paul bright and lee wildish. wouldve scored higher if the book jacket didnt use fucking metallic print. insanely self important for something with no substance

-the seven silly eaters by mary ann hoberman, illustrated by marla frazee. this poor woman gets no fucking break until her kids make her a cake on ACCIDENT

-the rose in my garden written by arnold lobel, illustrated by anita lobel. i remember that i read this one but i cant for the life of me remember what it was "about", im guessing nothing

-the night before kindergarten by natasha wing, illustrated by julie durrell. oh my god i dont care. get this white child out of my sight forever

-franklin and the thunderstorm by paulette bourgeois, illustrated by brenda clark. i fucking hate franklin

-i'm a bulldozer by dennis r shealy, illustrated by bob staake. propaganda

-the little snowplow by lora koehler, illustrated by jake parker. less informative that the previous one and i hate the snowplows fucking face.

-all baby einstien books. in a complete inversion of the name, these are an insult to the intelligence of the age group zero and up

-maybe by kobi yamada, illustrated by gabriella barouch. trying to skate by on the talent of your illustrator is low.

-my beautiful child by lisa desimini and matt mahurin. dont remember a single thing about this but apparently it sucked

-emma's pet by david mcphail. ??? what relation does this have to anything. i genuinely cant think of a thing to take from this as an adult i dont know why it was made

HELL TIER:

last week tonight with john oliver presents: a day in the life of marlon bundo, by jill twiss, illustrated by e g keller. i did not even open this one. everyone involved in making this should be burnt at the stake. apologize to marlon brando. apologize to rabbits. apologize to children. apologize to art

this weekend im staying at the house i work at and ill be making a tier list of all the childrens picture books there

[mattmcgorrysourceit]

chknfeed on instagram: "Filming during a pandemic is a real wild ride. I couldn’t have asked for a better, kinder, more delightful, talented group of folks to support! Congrats to @costumepartyporter & our whole awesome team! #archive81 #filminthetimeofcovid #goforcostumes #highsteppin’"

[littlequeenies]

Los Beatles y ellas

This wonderful book is written by José María Plaza and illustrated by Marta Ponce and from Mueve Tu Lengua Editorial.

In this book you’ll find the important relationship The Beatles had with the women surounding them. In countries like England, Linda Eastman, Yoko Ono, Pattie Boyd, Jane Asher and even Aunt Mimi or Julia Lennon are very famous or well known, but in Spain the only ones who are known are Yoko Ono and Linda Eastman, so this book is really welcomed because it aknowledges all the women surounding them from mothers and aunts, to wives, girlfriends and lovers.

Even Marianne Faithfull and Mary Hopkin are featured in this great book. Just Jenny Boyd is missing, but in Spanish language countries, this book is great in some many ways.

Happy International Woman’s Day everybody!!!!

[littlemissnellie]

#faceyoursims challenge by @samssims

this was a trend on instagram called #faceyourart but i thought it would be fun to bring it around simblr. post 9 faces of sims you have 100% created (not born in game) to spot similarities and to see your style.

thank you for tagging me, @simgerale! ily! <3

i tag: @nooodlenoot, @simblrdreamsworld, @lavenderm00nlight and anyone else who fancies showing off their sims! 

[charitabledirection]

Liam Payne to hold a poker event to benefit UCLH NHS Foundation Trust

Liam Payne to hold a poker event to benefit UCLH NHS Foundation Trust @LiamPayne @uclh @partypokerlive

January 20th, 2019: Yesterday Liam Payne posted on his Twitter account a video in which he announced that he will take part in a poker tournament in London on January 25th to benefit the official charity of the University College of London Hospitals (UCLH NHS Foundation Trust). The event will be supported by PartyPokerLIVE a global organization that runs live poker events all over the world.

The…

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 1.4

Beer Birthdays

Charles Deulin (1827)

Denis Holliday (1917)

Derek Walsh (1958)

Kevin Pratt (1962)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Les Brown; big band leader, jazz musician (1912)

Albert Camus; author, existentialist (1913)

Matt Frewer; actor (1958)

Jakob Grimm; fairy tale author (1785)

Michael Stipe; rock musician (1960)

Famous Birthdays

Henri Bergson; philosopher (1865)

Louis Braille; Braille inventor (1809)

Dyan Cannon; actor (1937)

Charles Deulin; French folk tale writer (1827)

Everett Dirksen; politician (1896)

Max Eastman; writer (1883)

Dave Foley; actor, comedian (1963)

Tito Fuentes; baseball player (1944)

Sterling Holloway; actor (1905)

Patty Loveless; country singer (1957)

Ann Magnuson; actor, performance artist (1956)

John McLaughlin; musician (1942)

Julia Ormond; actor (1965)

Floyd Patterson; boxer (1935)

Benjamin Rush; physician, politician (1746)

Julian Sands; actor (1958)

William Robert Sherman; character in Stephen King's book Hearts in Atlantis

Don Shula; football coach (1930)

Tom Thumb; entertainer (1838)

James Ussher; bishop, calculated Earth began Nov. 23,.4004 BCE (1581)