Lilith, (detail, 1887) John Maler Collier

Leila Chatti, from "Postcard from Gone"

BEING POSTED NOW!! Like any 77 year old worth her salt, this lady has character and lead a full life. "Hungry Hill" by Daphne De Maurier, published in 1944. Research has led me to believe this is the first U.S. publishing but I'm unable to confirm it. $40 (link in bio) #daphnedemaurier #rebecca #hungryhill #darkacademia #giftsforbooklovers #vintagebooks #literature https://www.instagram.com/p/CXIAwfrlgKZ/?utm_medium=tumblr

sarah sedwick / joey yu / carol marine / teddi parker

have you yet had the cognitive dissonance that comes with learning that Jon Pertwee was an actual spy in WWII or have you not yet had that pleasure

i HAVE and it's so funny - imagine being a real life British spy and, posthumously, your most recognized achievement is playing a gay science magician on children's television

it's what he would have wanted

1956 patent application "Design for an Electric Hanukkah Lamp," NARA GIF online

HAG HANUKKAH SAMEACH!

ICYMI: our 1st-ever Hanukkah Tumblr series! By Miriam Kleiman, Public Affairs

1st Night: Cowboy-themed menorah w/ perhaps mistletoe? 2nd Night: 1926 Sefer Sipur Nes Hanukkah from Baghdad. 3rd Night: White House Hanukkah invite with a Xmas tree! 4th Night: mention of Hanukkah at Rosenberg trial. 5th Night: 1st Pandemic Hanukkah, 1918 6th Night: Hanukkah speech tips for Pres. Clinton, 1998! 7th Night: Candy Cane Menorah? 8th Night: You’re invited… Hanukkah at the White House!

I have crossed oceans of time to find you.

You ever see a pretty dress, a well-organised notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself

ok. listen. it’s about your girlfriend. you know how we thought she was a crop-blighting witch and we were planning to stone her? so, here’s the thing. every stone we threw drew not blood but like, the black and fathomless rage of a race of titans that were once slain but could not die. and she like, rose from her hastily-shoveled roadside grave as their resubstantiated champion or something. yeah, we’re suffering the onslaught of her vengeance right now. yeah. I guess we inadvertently created that which we had so feared. yeahh. could you like, answer her texts and ask if she’ll stop sloughing our flesh with her baleful gaze every time she sees us. thx in advance

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.