BLDGBLOG: The Great Age of Clouds
In Frédéric J. Pont’s new book Alien Skies, he describes the atmospheres of other planets: what storms are like, what the clouds are made of, how a sunset might appear through a chemical haze at high pressure on another world.
You shouldn’t see this stuff and think of astronomy, in other words. You should think of J.M.W. Turner or John Constable, of huge coastal storms and mountain passes lit by lightning, of ships dashed on the rocks as wrathful pillars of dark cloud spiral into the blackness of space above terrified figures for whom weather bears traces of omnipotence.
I really do love BLDGBLOG.
The New Yorker: How Chris McCandless Died -
An updated theory on how Chris McCandless, the boy about whom the book ‘Into the Wild’ is focused, came to die out in the Alaskan wilderness.
As RT.com explains, the “spacecraft cemetery” is “an area of the South Pacific, approximately 3,900 km from the capital of New Zealand, Wellington. It is used to deposit the remains of spacecraft that do not burn up on re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere, such as the carcass of the Russian Mir space station and waste-filled cargo ships. The remote location was specially selected for the disposal of spacecraft because of its depth of four km and distance from shipping lanes.” — BLDGBLOG: The Spacecraft Cemetery (via iamdanw)
The Toast: Martin Prince's Finest Moments -
This is wonderful.
Stepping Out - David Sedaris on the Fitbit
(Source: spokeart, via shuffstuff)
At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare. — Caitlin Moran (via scatteredandshining)
(Source: lustsandluxuries, via fuckyeahexistentialism)
I really enjoyed it.
My girlfriend wishes it was more farcical - that they’d taken a bit more liberty with the ridiculousness of it while still operating within the Marvel universe - which, when I thought about it, I really wish they’d done too - but I understand the need to keep within the Marvel timeline they’re building.
That aside, my main thought is that it’s pretty amazing that (in my opinion) the most emotional depth in the film is supplied by a tree and a raccoon.
Could this dad be any more Dad? The cackling is obviously infectious, but he’s got the whole package: Glasses on nose, the sucked-in neck look down at the iPhone screen held daintily in his dadlike hands, Saturday t-shirt covering a well-earned belly. This guy is basically Tim Allen and Santa Claus combined into one package (although not the actual combination of Allen and Claus, which was fairly frightening.) — 'A Dad discovers two motion detector trash cans' is the best YouTube video
We are concerned by some homeopathic products. For example, it is possible to buy homeopathic products made from body parts such as hip joints and colons, animals such as iguana and dragonfly, and different kinds of sunlight. We are doubly concerned that it is also possible to buy products derived from precious archaeological features such as the Great Wall of China and Stonehenge. —
"Take 3 iguana-colon-and-moonlight pills, apply a Stonehenge poultice, and call me in the morning."
(Taken from this paper commissioned and published by the UK Government concerning justifying the Government’s spending on Homeopathy and, by extension, the effectiveness of homeopathy itself.)
Tired selfie, caught in the moment where I find myself wondering how many dinner choices are made with help from the menus over the urinals.