nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

same tom….same

same tom….same

I’m not having a good day

indianbazaar:

Designer: Anita Dongre

brownfatfemme:

rafi-dangelo:

We’re not people really.  Our concerns are not America’s concerns.  We are just here for entertainment. We’re a convenient treasure trove of limitless creativity to be pillaged, watered down, and re-purposed for White audiences and the people getting rich from bastardized stereotypes and simplified caricatures of everything we bring to the table have nothing to say when shit gets really real.

also add fucking taylor swift to this list ( i know there are so many others too)

jedavu:

Amazing Face-Paintings Transform Models Into The 2D Works Of Famous Artists

by  Valeriya Kutsan

iwriteaboutfeminism:

Chaos in Ferguson. Sunday night, part 2 [part 1]

A book floated down the Amper River. A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned. He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water. “How about a kiss, Saumensch?” he said.

gatitaborrachita:

nitanahkohe:

Tina Fontaine, 15, was reported missing on Aug. 9. Her body was found in the Red River near the Alexander Docks at about 1:30 p.m., more than a week after she was reported missing. Fontaine, of Sagkeeng First Nation, had only been in Winnipeg for a month before her disappearance. “She’s a petite little thing — just turned 15, barely in the city for a little over a month,” O’Donovan said. “And she’s definitely been exploited and taken advantage of and murdered.” 
Fontaine was in the care of a Child and Family Services agency when she went missing, according to police. She had run away from her foster home before, including once in July of this year. Police said she was found wrapped in a bag, in “a condition she couldn’t have put herself in.”
“She’s a child. This is a child that has been murdered … Society should be horrified,” O’Donovan said. “That’s why we’re asking for people to come forward. And that’s why we’re asking for people to help us and to come forward with anything they know about this child.” Anyone with information can contact police at 204-986-6508 or Crime Stoppers at 204-786-8477.

THIS SHOULD ENRAGE YOUTHIS SHOULD PISS YOU THE FUCK OFFOUR WOMEN ARE GOING MISSING AMD MURDERED LEFT AND RIGHT AND I DON’T HEAR ANY OF YOU Y’ALL CRACKERS WANT TO CLAIM DREAMCATCHERS AND HEADDRESSES AS YOUR OWN BUT THE SECOND SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPENS Y’ALL ARE FUCKING SILENTYOU CAN’T CLAIM ONE PART OF A CULTURE AND LEAVE OUT THE OPPRESSIVE SHITCANADA IS NOT ALL SUNSHINE AND FUCKING RAINBOWS

gatitaborrachita:

nitanahkohe:

Tina Fontaine, 15, was reported missing on Aug. 9. Her body was found in the Red River near the Alexander Docks at about 1:30 p.m., more than a week after she was reported missing. Fontaine, of Sagkeeng First Nation, had only been in Winnipeg for a month before her disappearance. “She’s a petite little thing — just turned 15, barely in the city for a little over a month,” O’Donovan said. “And she’s definitely been exploited and taken advantage of and murdered.” 

Fontaine was in the care of a Child and Family Services agency when she went missing, according to police. She had run away from her foster home before, including once in July of this year. Police said she was found wrapped in a bag, in “a condition she couldn’t have put herself in.”

“She’s a child. This is a child that has been murdered … Society should be horrified,” O’Donovan said. “That’s why we’re asking for people to come forward. And that’s why we’re asking for people to help us and to come forward with anything they know about this child.” Anyone with information can contact police at 204-986-6508 or Crime Stoppers at 204-786-8477.

THIS SHOULD ENRAGE YOU
THIS SHOULD PISS YOU THE FUCK OFF
OUR WOMEN ARE GOING MISSING AMD MURDERED LEFT AND RIGHT AND I DON’T HEAR ANY OF YOU

Y’ALL CRACKERS WANT TO CLAIM DREAMCATCHERS AND HEADDRESSES AS YOUR OWN BUT THE SECOND SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPENS Y’ALL ARE FUCKING SILENT
YOU CAN’T CLAIM ONE PART OF A CULTURE AND LEAVE OUT THE OPPRESSIVE SHIT

CANADA IS NOT ALL SUNSHINE AND FUCKING RAINBOWS

wesleyaccola:

Jaime fuckin’ Lannister

wesleyaccola:

Jaime fuckin’ Lannister

Unarmed black men killed by police SINCE Mike Brown

queertactics:

keepyoursky:

  • Dante Parker
  • Ezell Ford

Both of these incidents come out of California:

http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2014/08/unarmed_black_man_ezell_ford_shot_by_police_in_la.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/14/dad-killed-taser_n_5679152.html

please please please dont forget these men’s names and brutal murders when talking about recent police brutality and racism