greedyandpoor:

Makin’ my way downtown

walking fast

faces pass and I’m homebound

(Source: robo-thong, via wizardpolice)

Toad Words

ursulavernon:

            Frogs fall out of my mouth when I talk. Toads, too.

            It used to be a problem.

            There was an incident when I was young and cross and fed up with parental expectations. My sister, who is the Good One, has gold fall from her lips, and since I could not be her, I had to go a different way.

            So I got frogs. It happens.

            “You’ll grow into it,” the fairy godmother said. “Some curses have cloth-of-gold linings.” She considered this, and her finger drifted to her lower lip, the way it did when she was forgetting things. “Mind you, some curses just grind you down and leave you broken. Some blessings do that too, though. Hmm. What was I saying?”

            I spent a lot of time not talking. I got a slate and wrote things down. It was hard at first, but I hated to drop the frogs in the middle of the road. They got hit by cars, or dried out, miles away from their damp little homes.

            Toads were easier. Toads are tough. After awhile, I learned to feel when a word was a toad and not a frog. I could roll the word around on my tongue and get the flavor before I spoke it. Toad words were drier. Desiccated is a toad word. So is crisp and crisis and obligation. So are elegant and matchstick.

            Frog words were a bit more varied. Murky. Purple. Swinging. Jazz.

I practiced in the field behind the house, speaking words over and over, sending small creatures hopping into the evening.  I learned to speak some words as either toads or frogs. It’s all in the delivery.

            Love is a frog word, if spoken earnestly, and a toad word if spoken sarcastically. Frogs are not good at sarcasm.

            Toads are masters of it.

            I learned one day that the amphibians are going extinct all over the world, that some of them are vanishing. You go to ponds that should be full of frogs and find them silent. There are a hundred things responsible—fungus and pesticides and acid rain.

            When I heard this, I cried “What!?” so loudly that an adult African bullfrog fell from my lips and I had to catch it. It weighed as much as a small cat. I took it to the pet store and spun them a lie in writing about my cousin going off to college and leaving the frog behind.

            I brooded about frogs for weeks after that, and then eventually, I decided to do something about it.

            I cannot fix the things that kill them. It would take an army of fairy godmothers, and mine retired long ago. Now she goes on long cruises and spreads her wings out across the deck chairs.

            But I can make more.

            I had to get a field guide at first. It was a long process. Say a word and catch it, check the field marks. Most words turn to bronze frogs if I am not paying attention.

            Poison arrow frogs make my lips go numb. I can only do a few of those a day. I go through a lot of chapstick.  

            It is a holding action I am fighting, nothing more. I go to vernal pools and whisper sonnets that turn into wood frogs. I say the words squeak and squill and spring peepers skitter away into the trees. They begin singing almost the moment they emerge.

            I read long legal documents to a growing audience of Fowler’s toads, who blink their goggling eyes up at me. (I wish I could do salamanders. I would read Clive Barker novels aloud and seed the streams with efts and hellbenders. I would fly to Mexico and read love poems in another language to restore the axolotl. Alas, it’s frogs and toads and nothing more. We make do.)

            The woods behind my house are full of singing. The neighbors either learn to love it or move away.

            My sister—the one who speaks gold and diamonds—funds my travels. She speaks less than I do, but for me and my amphibian friends, she will vomit rubies and sapphires. I am grateful.

            I am practicing reading modernist revolutionary poetry aloud. My accent is atrocious. Still, a day will come when the Panamanian golden frog will tumble from my lips, and I will catch it and hold it, and whatever word I spoke, I’ll say again and again, until I stand at the center of a sea of yellow skins, and make from my curse at last a cloth of gold.

Terri Windling posted recently about the old fairy tale of frogs falling from a girl’s lips, and I started thinking about what I’d do if that happened to me, and…well…

(via ooksaidthelibrarian)

mistlemore:

all-four-cheekbones:

itsbabyber:

aliciaaadanielle:

summits:

thehobbitcompilationblog:

idareu2bme:

stut—ter:

idareu2bme:

lokidindeed:

i-deduce-youre-a-bitch:

YOU NIQQAS WANNA LEARN ELVISH?! HERE YA GO!

is this legit?

This is legit. My husband, sitting across the room, looks over and says, “IS THAT SOMEONE SHOWING HOW TO CONVERT ENGLISH TO TENGWAR?  BECAUSE THAT’S THE WAY!”

Believe this man.  He owns atlases of Middle Earth, the complete history of Middle Earth (leatherbound), and has read the books at least 150 times.  Also: speaks elvish.

Yes.

What if there are two vowels in a row?

Does anyone know the answer to that last question?

Jill.

THIS IS SO EXCITING

THIS IS SO COOL OMG

If there are two vowels in a row, you use a carrier placeholder. It’s a plain straight line, like the letter i without a dot, that just exists to hold extra vowels.

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

(Source: cleocliche, via clauncher)

lifting-spirits:

mr-noodle-arms:

willycheesesteak:

Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy - Dancing Groot

“Baby Groot dancing is 100 percent me. I was too embarrassed for anyone to be there, so I made everyone leave the room and I set up a camera and I videotaped myself dancing. Then I sent the video to the animators and had them animate over that. I begged them not to leak the video! Two of my closest friends came to an early screening and said ‘Hey, I recognize those moves! That’s you dancing isn’t it?!’” - Vin Diesel

reblogged before but that comment just makes it that much better

(via ooksaidthelibrarian)

lazlo15:

10knotes:

omfg that is just too adorable

i can show you the world

(Source: 1los, via ooksaidthelibrarian)

littlemicrobiologyblog:

mrcaptaincook:

kinesin (a motor protein) pulling a some kind of vesicle along some kind of cytoskeletal filament
via John Liebler at Art of the Cell

Kinesins are my favourite proteins! Walk it out kinesin! 

littlemicrobiologyblog:

mrcaptaincook:

kinesin (a motor protein) pulling a some kind of vesicle along some kind of cytoskeletal filament

via John Liebler at Art of the Cell

Kinesins are my favourite proteins! Walk it out kinesin! 

(via ecophys)

jasonviola:

Fear of Flowers Part 1

(via ecophys)

we-the-dreamers:

"If I’m lost at sea, tell my mother, my father, my sisters, my brother, my friends, and my foes, and all my past lovers that I will miss them so."

we-the-dreamers:

"If I’m lost at sea, tell my mother, my father, my sisters, my brother, my friends, and my foes, and all my past lovers that I will miss them so."

(via luminousphantasm)

About

A wretch listens