thinking about this in these weary times
humans are meant to lay in bed awhile after they wake up and think and rest. we are not supposed to get up right away
People with low spoons, someone just recommended this cookbook to me, so I thought I'd pass it on.
I always look at cookbooks for people who have no energy/time to do elaborate meal preparations, and roll my eyes. Like, you want me to stay on my feet for long enough to prepare 15 different ingredients from scratch, and use 5 different pots and pans, when I have chronic fatigue and no dishwasher?
These people seem to get it, though. It's very simple in places. It's basically the cookbook for people who think, 'I'm really bored of those same five low-spoons meals I eat, but I can't think of anything else to cook that won't exhaust me'. And it's free!
For anyone hit with the new update today, install Dashboard Unfucker v3.6.0a here.
Just make sure that you have the TamperMonkey extension installed on your browser first so that it will work.
It comes with advanced settings to restore the icons on the dash, just check "re-add icons to reblogs".
Thanks to @yappatadwinks for helping me get things working
fantastic takedown of caliban and the witch which i am now realizing is really a very bad book
ALTACORN SEASON IS UPON US ONCE AGAIN, AND IT IS MY SOLEMN DUTY TO SAY: you can eat them!!
I have a 20 page instructional comic that covers all the basics of acorn foraging! The PDF is available for free or pay-what-you-want; and I also have handmade print copies available (sewn up with acorn-dyed yarn and everything.)
Do you like free food? Do you like learning about the ancient food systems that have sustained the human species since time immemorial? This comic can help you get started!
Happy fall foraging!!
Joan Didion, writing about the shock that followed after the death of her husband, John.
"There was an exchange on Twitter a while back where someone said, ‘What is artificial intelligence?' And someone else said, 'A poor choice of words in 1954'," he says. "And, you know, they’re right. I think that if we had chosen a different phrase for it, back in the '50s, we might have avoided a lot of the confusion that we're having now."
So if he had to invent a term, what would it be? His answer is instant: applied statistics. "It's genuinely amazing that...these sorts of things can be extracted from a statistical analysis of a large body of text," he says. But, in his view, that doesn't make the tools intelligent. Applied statistics is a far more precise descriptor, "but no one wants to use that term, because it's not as sexy".
'The machines we have now are not conscious', Lunch with the FT, Ted Chiang, by Madhumita Murgia, 3 June/4 June 2023
judy grahn, from another mother tongue: gay words, gay worlds, 1984
["MAINTAINING SECRECY
The secrecy some Gay couples maintain about their relationship to each other can reach great extremes. I have known women lovers together for fifteen years who pretend to live separately, going one night to the house of one and the next night to the house of the other, each time carrying the gear, suitcases, changes of clothing they will need for the next day, for the sake of fooling a few family members and straight friends. Other Lesbian couples go to even greater lengths to ensure secrecy. One couple has lived together for nine years and also works together in the same office, where they are so fearful of being discovered as lovers and lifetime mates that they pretend not to know each other at all.
When I was working in a laboratory as a medical technician, I had a clear lesson in the secrecy of the closet. Six of us were standing around getting ready to take off our white coats and go home for a day, when one woman told an ugly anti-Gay joke. She was a young aide in training to do minor tests, nowhere near as skilled as the rest of us, and she had recently been married; no one expected her to stay long at her job. The point of her joke was See-how-stupid-and-wrong-faggots-are. It made me sick inside to hear it, but following the rule of appearing heterosexual or else, from years of habit and the desire to stay employed and reasonably accepted among my co-workers, I obediently pretended to laugh.
As I did so my eyes met the sparkling blue eyes of our boss, a man who had worked his way up to become the chief laboratory technician of the hospital. In his fifties, he had never married and was continually teased as "most eligible bachelor." His eyes flashed into mine now as, mouths guffawing, we acknowledged with a special look that straight people simply had to be indulged, that that was a part of The Life. My eyes flicked from him to his lover Robert, a technician like myself and a friend of mine. Large, broad-shouldered, and with his short hair plastered to his skull, Robert looked as if the word straight was invented just to describe him. He and I were teased in the laboratory for going out together, which we occasionally did as a front. But I knew Robert and our boss had been lovers for several years and owned a business together outside the laboratory, operating it on weekends; I had been there to have dinner with them.
From Robert's distorted, pretending-to-laugh face, my gaze passed to another technician, Rita. She was beautiful, graceful, smart and gutsy. She had recently led all of us in a strike for better wages. The highly skilled Rita was head of the bacteriology department and a specialist in her work. I had a terrific crush on her at the time, and now to my disgust here she was pretending to howl at the rude joke, and so was her lover Alberta who stood next to her with her coat on, ready to go home. The two Lesbians worked together in the laboratory, owned a house and a couple of horses, having lived together for at least ten years. I closed my mouth and stopped laughing. I was too astonished at what my eyes had registered: Of six people standing in the laboratory laughing at a vicious anti-Gay joke, five were Gay— everyone except the woman who had told the joke. The walls of the closet are guarded by the dogs of terror, and inside of the closet is a house of mirrors."]
I know of two women, retired already, who live in the same house, own the same car, go on holidays together. They would never say they are together although everyone in the village where they live knows and don't care. They pretend to be friends and so do everyone else on the village. And they do it so that the village where they both used to work, far more traditional and gossipy, don't find out that these two women have been together for decades,even though sometimes one of them can't hide how much she loves her "friend".