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Search results for tag #literature

[?]Waywords Studio » 🌐
@WaywordsStudio@mastodon.social

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝑵𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒔 - 𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝑷𝒕. 1: 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕

𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗮, 𝗯𝘂𝗱𝗱𝘆?
We investigate what we hope to achieve by literary travel . . . and why our packing cannot prepare us for it!

waywordsstudio.com/podcasts/wa

    [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
    @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

    Stuff: Instead of a Memoir by Lucy R. Lippard

    To a lifetime's worth of family, friends, and lovers, plus critters. "...the past is not for living in. It is a well of conclusions from which we draw in order to act." - John Berger, Ways of Seeing

    Alt...To a lifetime's worth of family, friends, and lovers, plus critters. "...the past is not for living in. It is a well of conclusions from which we draw in order to act." - John Berger, Ways of Seeing

      [?]Just Jim » 🌐
      @LibraryJRP@mastodon.social

      RE: mastodon.social/@gutenberg_org

      A great site for many of your needs!

      janggolan boosted

      [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
      @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

      Happy 55th Birthday, Project Gutenberg! Let's celebrate!🎉

      Project Gutenberg was founded on July 4, 1971, when Michael Hart typed the U.S. Declaration of Independence into an early internet-connected computer and shared it with friends, making it the first digital text — though its official posting date is recorded as December 1, 1971. (And happy 250th, USA.)

      The Declaration of Independence at PG:
      gutenberg.org/ebooks/1

      Title: The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America Author: Thomas Jefferson Credits: This etext was produced by Michael S. Hart. A poster-style image of the United States Declaration of Independence document centered against a patriotic red, white, and blue striped background, with the title "The Declaration of Independence" displayed in bold text at the top. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1/pg1-images.html

      Alt...Title: The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America Author: Thomas Jefferson Credits: This etext was produced by Michael S. Hart. A poster-style image of the United States Declaration of Independence document centered against a patriotic red, white, and blue striped background, with the title "The Declaration of Independence" displayed in bold text at the top. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1/pg1-images.html

          [?]The Vulgar Tongue » 🤖 🌐
          @TheVulgarTongue@zirk.us

          STOCK JOBBERS. Persons who gamble in Exchange Alley, by pretending to buy and sell the public funds, but in reality only betting that they will be at a certain price, at a particular time.

          A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

          --
          @histodons

          Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): STOCK JOBBERS. Persons who gamble in Exchange Alley, by pretending to buy and sell the public funds, but in reality only betting that they will be at a certain price, at a particular time. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

          Alt...Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): STOCK JOBBERS. Persons who gamble in Exchange Alley, by pretending to buy and sell the public funds, but in reality only betting that they will be at a certain price, at a particular time. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

            [?]Bevan Thomas » 🌐
            @bevanthomas.bsky.social@bsky.brid.gy

              [?]Isaac Asimov » 🤖 🌐
              @CuratedAsimov@mastodon.social

              "A robot may not injure humanity, or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm."

                [?]Bevan Thomas » 🌐
                @bevanthomas.bsky.social@bsky.brid.gy

                  [?]Bevan Thomas » 🌐
                  @bevanthomas@mstdn.ca

                  "It was a snowflake; the most beautiful he had ever seen, for it was magnified into an exquisite and intricate pattern: a star glistening like crystal in the soft light. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. The star began to move.... It gradually assumed the shape of a tiny silver spider. Had the wind heard [Gwyn] after after? Was he a magician then?"
                  - Jenny Nimmo, "The Snow Spider"

                  Image of Arianwen, the Snow Spider, from the new TV adaptation of "The Snow Spider."

                  Alt...Image of Arianwen, the Snow Spider, from the new TV adaptation of "The Snow Spider."

                    [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                    @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                    The Giver by Lois Lowry

                    For all the children to whom we entrust the future

                    Alt...For all the children to whom we entrust the future

                      [?]Walt » 🌐
                      @astralcomputing@bookstodon.com

                      Died this day: 07/04/2008 (b. 02/02/1940) Thomas M. Disch was an American sci-fi writer and poet. The Brave Little Toaster won the Locus and BSFA Awards. Published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Vol. 59, no. 2 (August 1980)

                      en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_M


                      @books @scifi @Scifiart @sciencefiction

                      astralcomputing.com

                      Cover art by Gahan Wilson

                      The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Vol. 59, no. 2 (August 1980). Thomas M. Disch "The Brave Little Toaster". Cover art by Gahan Wilson Bruce McAllister, Edward Bryant, Isaac Asimov, $1.50, UK 85p A man with a large, bulbous nose and wide eyes looks toward a second figure while his mouth is open. Shown in profile, he wears a dark purple and pink garment with white trim. Behind him, a person is draped in a heavy, cream-colored cloth that covers their head and shoulders, revealing a face with large, wide eyes and heavy brow lines partially obscured by folds in the fabric. In the lower foreground, a hand grips a metallic, claw-like object against a background of dark, shadowed areas containing indistinct shapes of metal and various mechanical parts in shades of grey, black, and dark blue.

                      Alt...The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Vol. 59, no. 2 (August 1980). Thomas M. Disch "The Brave Little Toaster". Cover art by Gahan Wilson Bruce McAllister, Edward Bryant, Isaac Asimov, $1.50, UK 85p A man with a large, bulbous nose and wide eyes looks toward a second figure while his mouth is open. Shown in profile, he wears a dark purple and pink garment with white trim. Behind him, a person is draped in a heavy, cream-colored cloth that covers their head and shoulders, revealing a face with large, wide eyes and heavy brow lines partially obscured by folds in the fabric. In the lower foreground, a hand grips a metallic, claw-like object against a background of dark, shadowed areas containing indistinct shapes of metal and various mechanical parts in shades of grey, black, and dark blue.

                        [?]Wim 🅾→Ⓣ » 🌐
                        @wim_v12e@tilde.zone

                        I'm reading "Katabasis" by Rebecca F. Kuang and I guess it's a book that will be particularly appreciated by anyone in academia. It's fiction and mostly set in hell but still deals with a lot of what's wrong with academia and its denizens.
                        Especially with PhD supervisors -- and I have been one for a very long time.


                          [?]The New Renaissance Mindset » 🌐
                          @renminds@renminds.org

                          T.A.E.’s Book Review – The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun by Christopher & J.R.R. Tolkien

                          The Cold Radiance of Fate Christopher Tolkien’s The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun (2009) is not merely a posthumous Tolkien curiosity; it is a serious act of literary recovery. The volume centres on two long poems, The New Lay of the Völsungs and The New Lay of Gudrún, with Christopher Tolkien’s commentary, appendices, and an introductory frame that situates the work in the world of the Elder Edda. The book also makes plain that J.R.R. Tolkien composed these poems in the 1930s, working […] [SENSITIVE CONTENT]

                          The Cold Radiance of Fate

                          Christopher Tolkien’s The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun (2009) is not merely a posthumous Tolkien curiosity; it is a serious act of literary recovery. The volume centres on two long poems, The New Lay of the Völsungs and The New Lay of Gudrún, with Christopher Tolkien’s commentary, appendices, and an introductory frame that situates the work in the world of the Elder Edda. The book also makes plain that J.R.R. Tolkien composed these poems in the 1930s, working in an English version of Old Norse alliterative meter and trying to “unify” and “organise” legendary material rather than simply translate it. 

                          What is most striking is the poem’s devotion to hardness of form. Tolkien’s lines do not aim for the fluent transparency of modern narrative verse; they seek an older music, one that sounds carved rather than spoken. The opening gesture, “Of old was an age / when Ódin walked,” immediately establishes that ritual distance, as if the poem were less a story being told than a past being re-entered. That effect is central to the book’s power: the language keeps lifting the legend out of anecdote and back into saga, into the realm where fate feels communal, cosmic, and ancient. 

                          The tragedy itself is rendered with remarkable severity. Tolkien’s version of the Sigurd material is preoccupied with treasure, oath, marriage, betrayal, and the terrible continuity of blood guilt, but he refuses any sentimental cushioning. The most devastating passages are often the simplest: Gudrún’s lament that “the world is empty, / the waves are cold” compresses grief into elemental desolation, while the line “Crooked came she forth / from curséd womb” gives Brynhild’s condition the inescapable force of mythic doom. The author understands that this legend does not merely narrate catastrophe; it anatomizes how desire turns into ruin, and how once the curse enters the gold, every human attachment becomes vulnerable to corruption. 

                          The editor’s presence deepens the experience rather than interrupting it. His notes and commentary make the book feel partly like a poem and partly like a philological excavation, showing how carefully the modern text is shaped from Eddaic sources and how much labor went into making the legend coherent again. That scholarly density will be too heavy for readers who want a straightforward mythic retelling, but for readers attentive to language and tradition it is one of the book’s great strengths. The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun is therefore best read as a work of austere beauty: formally exacting, intellectually rich, and emotionally pitiless in the way the oldest heroic poetry often is. It stands apart from Middle-earth, but it belongs unmistakably to the same imagination that loved the “nameless North.”

                          T.A.E.’s Book Review – The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun by Christopher & J.R.R. Tolkien

                          Alt...T.A.E.’s Book Review – The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun by Christopher & J.R.R. Tolkien

                          [?]Wim 🅾→Ⓣ » 🌐
                          @wim_v12e@tilde.zone

                          I understand the dramatic necessity of combining all sins into a single character, in the sense that having more characters would lead to dilution of the story, but it has the effect of making Professor Grimes into a caricature of the "supervisor from hell", rather than an actual one.


                            [?]Isaac Asimov » 🤖 🌐
                            @CuratedAsimov@mastodon.social

                            "A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws."

                              [?]RJT » 🌐
                              @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                              I am aware of the inconsistency of the styles of my poetry lately

                              subspacewagon.systems/i-am-awa

                              @poetry
                              @writingcommunity

                                [?]RJT » 🌐
                                @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                                Rotary Mastery

                                subspacewagon.systems/rotary-m

                                Promethazine Blues

                                subspacewagon.systems/prometha

                                ___
                                poet.garden
                                subspacewagon.io
                                selections.directory
                                ___

                                *----
                                patience.earth
                                violencestudies.com
                                letters.directory
                                *---

                                @poetry
                                @writingcommunity

                                  [?]arifsky » 🌐
                                  @b1u3sky.bsky.social@bsky.brid.gy

                                  Snow by Orhan Pamuk
                                  This book was originally written in Turkish in 2002 and translated into English in 2004. The book is remarkably prescient in its presentation of the conflict between traditional fundamentalist Islam and the Western secular world.




                                    [?]RJT » 🌐
                                    @many@subconscioussignature.earth

                                    Surprisingly, I only have two poems that discuss . I am going to have to write more.

                                    Naima Bock and the Retribution of Distinction
                                    subspacewagon.systems/naima-bo

                                    These are the alibis of tailored painters and Naima Bock
                                    subspacewagon.systems/these-ar

                                    ___
                                    poet.garden
                                    subspacewagon.io
                                    selections.directory
                                    ___

                                    @poetry
                                    @writingcommunity

                                      [?]North Sea Armed Forces Lodge » 🌐
                                      @North_Sea_829@norden.social

                                      Writing about the working tools used by speculative Masons, and adapted from those used by operative Masons, Theodore Roosevelt said:

                                      "Gradually the true Mason gains experience in using these working tools and can observe subtler and subtler indications of personal flaws."

                                      Roosevelt was Raised to the Degree of Master Mason in Matinecock Lodge number 806 in Oyster Bay, New York, on 24 April 1901.

                                        [?]BookShelves eBook Reader » 🌐
                                        @getbookshelves@mastodon.social

                                        📅 This Day in Literature — July 4

                                        Remembered today: Thomas Jefferson (1826)

                                        Author of the Declaration of Independence. Died on its 50th anniversary.

                                        lk0.eu/bks171m

                                          [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                                          @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                                          Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore by Emily Krempholtz

                                          For anyone who has ever dreamed, even for a second, about leaving it all behind and starting fresh. And for Angela, who gave me the nudge I needed.

                                          Alt...For anyone who has ever dreamed, even for a second, about leaving it all behind and starting fresh. And for Angela, who gave me the nudge I needed.

                                            [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
                                            @scotlit@mastodon.scot

                                            This morning I watched from here
                                            a helicopter skirting like a damaged insect
                                            the Empire State Building, that
                                            jumbo size dentist’s drill, and landing
                                            on the roof of the PanAm skyscraper.
                                            But now midnight has come in
                                            from foreign places…

                                            —Norman MacCaig, “Hotel Room, 12th Floor”
                                            published in THE POEMS OF NORMAN MacCAIG (Birlinn, 2009)

                                            birlinn.co.uk/product/the-poem

                                            Hotel Room, 12th Floor Norman MacCaig This morning I watched from here a helicopter skirting like a damaged insect the Empire State Building, that jumbo size dentist’s drill, and landing on the roof of the PanAm skyscraper. But now midnight has come in from foreign places. Its uncivilised darkness is shot at by a million lit windows, all ups and acrosses But midnight is not so easily defeated. I lie in bed, between a radio and a television set, and hear the wildest of warwhoops continually ululating through the glittering canyons and gulches – police cars and ambulances racing to the broken bones, the harsh screaming from coldwater flats, the blood glazed on sidewalks. The frontier is never somewhere else. And no stockades can keep the midnight out.

                                            Alt...Hotel Room, 12th Floor Norman MacCaig This morning I watched from here a helicopter skirting like a damaged insect the Empire State Building, that jumbo size dentist’s drill, and landing on the roof of the PanAm skyscraper. But now midnight has come in from foreign places. Its uncivilised darkness is shot at by a million lit windows, all ups and acrosses But midnight is not so easily defeated. I lie in bed, between a radio and a television set, and hear the wildest of warwhoops continually ululating through the glittering canyons and gulches – police cars and ambulances racing to the broken bones, the harsh screaming from coldwater flats, the blood glazed on sidewalks. The frontier is never somewhere else. And no stockades can keep the midnight out.

                                              [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
                                              @scotlit@mastodon.scot

                                              Mister drags off his box of fireworks to the shore.
                                              Missiz drains her drink and hits the floor
                                              with someone half her age…

                                              —Liz Lochhead, “Fourth of July Fireworks”
                                              published in THREE SCOTTISH POETS: MacCaig • Morgan • Lochhead, @canongatebooks 1992

                                              🇺🇸 🎆

                                              Fourth of July Fireworks by Liz Lochhead The guests are gathered. Boston-Irish Nancy, half in huff says, Better help yourselves, you all know Mister's timing well enough.' Aside at me she mutters. 'Millionaires can afford to let things wait. Honest-to-God Mister would be late for his own funeral.' Cigarstore Indian, I hide behind my apron, wait and drink in all I can. (We don't exist. They pick our trays, Tom Collinses, Martinis and canapés.) Oh horror, new England night, when I fetched the ice down and that snake looped my feet in the kitchen garden! I still shake. 'Harmless,' says Nancy. I hear her hiss, 'Some host! That beggar'll only get here when he's sure he's last.' Fourth of July. Cape Cod. Dead on cue, last-man Mister comes running to his barbecue. Arms flailing like a cricketer's across the lawn from his 'so English' house with a flame red shirt on. It's the cocktail hour. The air is still. Mister gets busy on the charcoal grill. Social-kissing women, backslapping men has failed to break the ice. But then Missiz appears like magic from the dusk. Cool, ten years his junior, she smells of musk

                                              Alt...Fourth of July Fireworks by Liz Lochhead The guests are gathered. Boston-Irish Nancy, half in huff says, Better help yourselves, you all know Mister's timing well enough.' Aside at me she mutters. 'Millionaires can afford to let things wait. Honest-to-God Mister would be late for his own funeral.' Cigarstore Indian, I hide behind my apron, wait and drink in all I can. (We don't exist. They pick our trays, Tom Collinses, Martinis and canapés.) Oh horror, new England night, when I fetched the ice down and that snake looped my feet in the kitchen garden! I still shake. 'Harmless,' says Nancy. I hear her hiss, 'Some host! That beggar'll only get here when he's sure he's last.' Fourth of July. Cape Cod. Dead on cue, last-man Mister comes running to his barbecue. Arms flailing like a cricketer's across the lawn from his 'so English' house with a flame red shirt on. It's the cocktail hour. The air is still. Mister gets busy on the charcoal grill. Social-kissing women, backslapping men has failed to break the ice. But then Missiz appears like magic from the dusk. Cool, ten years his junior, she smells of musk

                                              and 'Madame Rochas'. Two small spots of anger high on her cheekbones linger. When Mister says it's done enough the guests spread ketchup on the fatted calf. The night hots up. Liquor flows. Listless couples come alive. A bit apart, restless, Missiz sways gently on her own to Glen Miller on the gramophone. All eyes are on the soignee cling of this year's leisure favourite, velvety stretch towelling for patio-party wear. Those purples and electric pinks 'Just far too hectic altogether,' Nancy thinks. (Ten years with Missiz, Nancy's face is quite professional, impervious.) Ice melts in the Martini tray. Midges drown. The whole night edges to a thunderstorm. Maybugs big as golfballs thud as screendoors bounce them. But, after our blood, divebombing mosquitoes dodge the mesh and slide in down their own thin whine. They bite despite insecticide. All at sea, white and dayglo orange fins spinnaker the bay. Music blares from the jazzed-up clubhouse round the Cape, Cotuit way. The whole damn town is two thirds empty after Labour Day. These summer people migrate to Florida, lock, stock and barrel. Tonight their parked cars sprawl the drive and trail

                                              Alt...and 'Madame Rochas'. Two small spots of anger high on her cheekbones linger. When Mister says it's done enough the guests spread ketchup on the fatted calf. The night hots up. Liquor flows. Listless couples come alive. A bit apart, restless, Missiz sways gently on her own to Glen Miller on the gramophone. All eyes are on the soignee cling of this year's leisure favourite, velvety stretch towelling for patio-party wear. Those purples and electric pinks 'Just far too hectic altogether,' Nancy thinks. (Ten years with Missiz, Nancy's face is quite professional, impervious.) Ice melts in the Martini tray. Midges drown. The whole night edges to a thunderstorm. Maybugs big as golfballs thud as screendoors bounce them. But, after our blood, divebombing mosquitoes dodge the mesh and slide in down their own thin whine. They bite despite insecticide. All at sea, white and dayglo orange fins spinnaker the bay. Music blares from the jazzed-up clubhouse round the Cape, Cotuit way. The whole damn town is two thirds empty after Labour Day. These summer people migrate to Florida, lock, stock and barrel. Tonight their parked cars sprawl the drive and trail

                                              behind those his-and-hers coupled custom Cadillacs like a comet tail. (Oh I can see it all quite clearly, feeling small and stone-cold sober. But I do not count at all.) Out on the lawn the sprinklers, oddly luminous, sputter like Roman Candles, ominous as the sudden snap of queer clear light from one weird streak unzips the dark. The German Shepherd guard dogs bark. A wind gets up. These beach-house boards are flimsier than playing cards. (Over the bay, like flares odd rockets go up with a shock of stars.) Mister drags off his box of fireworks to the shore. Missiz drains her drink and hits the floor with someone half her age. His snake-arms slur around her waist. Eyes glaze. Sentence endings blur. Missiz ('mutton dressed as lamb') comes in slowly as the false-calm lead-slow sea that slicks the beach. Sinatra sings. The tide ravels up slowly, shelving things. Raindrops big as bullets dent the roof we all stand under, watching Canute's fireworks out-rage the storm, try to steal its thunder.

                                              Alt...behind those his-and-hers coupled custom Cadillacs like a comet tail. (Oh I can see it all quite clearly, feeling small and stone-cold sober. But I do not count at all.) Out on the lawn the sprinklers, oddly luminous, sputter like Roman Candles, ominous as the sudden snap of queer clear light from one weird streak unzips the dark. The German Shepherd guard dogs bark. A wind gets up. These beach-house boards are flimsier than playing cards. (Over the bay, like flares odd rockets go up with a shock of stars.) Mister drags off his box of fireworks to the shore. Missiz drains her drink and hits the floor with someone half her age. His snake-arms slur around her waist. Eyes glaze. Sentence endings blur. Missiz ('mutton dressed as lamb') comes in slowly as the false-calm lead-slow sea that slicks the beach. Sinatra sings. The tide ravels up slowly, shelving things. Raindrops big as bullets dent the roof we all stand under, watching Canute's fireworks out-rage the storm, try to steal its thunder.

                                                [?]Assoc for Scottish Literature » 🌐
                                                @scotlit@mastodon.scot

                                                Burns & the Scottish Enlightenment in America
                                                4 Aug, Robert Burns Ellisland Farm
                                                Tickets by donation

                                                Ian Houston will examine how the ideas that shaped Burns's world – liberty, equality, democracy, & human dignity – also influenced the emerging American republic

                                                eventbrite.co.uk/e/burns-and-t

                                                  [?]EveryLibrary » 🌐
                                                  @everylibrary@mastodon.social

                                                  Let’s show that Americans love their libraries! Like, follow, and share!

                                                    [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
                                                    @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

                                                    in 1804, Nathaniel Hawthorne was born. He was an American novelist and short story writer. His works often focus on history, morality, and religion.

                                                    en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nathanie

                                                    Hawthorne at PG:

                                                    gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/28

                                                    Oil painting of Nathaniel Hawthorne, painted by artist Charles Osgood. Hawthorne is young with dark curly hair. He is wearing a dark, heavy, velvety black coat or cloak wrapped over his shoulders. Around his neck is a large, meticulously tied satin black bow tie and a thick matching black cravat. A crisp white high-collared shirt peaks out from beneath the dark layers, creating a stark contrast against his black suit.

                                                    Alt...Oil painting of Nathaniel Hawthorne, painted by artist Charles Osgood. Hawthorne is young with dark curly hair. He is wearing a dark, heavy, velvety black coat or cloak wrapped over his shoulders. Around his neck is a large, meticulously tied satin black bow tie and a thick matching black cravat. A crisp white high-collared shirt peaks out from beneath the dark layers, creating a stark contrast against his black suit.

                                                      [?]OhSnap!Dragon » 🌐
                                                      @DrOinOR@mastodon.social

                                                      Crossed this off my bucket list.







                                                      late dusk shot of a Ball brand glass canning jar atop a hill, with a red barn on the left, and two tall green trees on the right. An arrow points to the jar, with the caption, round it was. The two trees have an arrow labelled slovenly wilderness. The greater periwinkle sky and surrounding are arrowed and labelled, Tennessee

                                                      Alt...late dusk shot of a Ball brand glass canning jar atop a hill, with a red barn on the left, and two tall green trees on the right. An arrow points to the jar, with the caption, round it was. The two trees have an arrow labelled slovenly wilderness. The greater periwinkle sky and surrounding are arrowed and labelled, Tennessee

                                                        [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                        @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                                                        Nothing But the Music by Thulani Davis

                                                        to the artists & dharma guides who coax us minute by minute from retold pasts & possible futures ever to the present moment

                                                        Alt...to the artists & dharma guides who coax us minute by minute from retold pasts & possible futures ever to the present moment

                                                          [?]Project Gutenberg » 🌐
                                                          @gutenberg_org@mastodon.social

                                                          A Brief Survey of the Great American Novel(s)

                                                          Do We Need The G.A.N.? Why Do We Keep Looking?

                                                          by Emily Temple (from the archives)

                                                          lithub.com/a-brief-survey-of-g

                                                          American novels at PG:
                                                          gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?q

                                                          The title page of "The Great American Novel" by William Carlos Williams, published in Paris by Three Mountains Press in 1923, featuring simple typography and a small decorative publisher's emblem at the center. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63888

                                                          Alt...The title page of "The Great American Novel" by William Carlos Williams, published in Paris by Three Mountains Press in 1923, featuring simple typography and a small decorative publisher's emblem at the center. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63888

                                                          The title page of "Studies in Classic American Literature" by D.H. Lawrence, published in New York by Thomas Seltzer in 1923, featuring clean minimal typography and a small triangular publisher's emblem at the center. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/60547/60547-h/60547-h.htm

                                                          Alt...The title page of "Studies in Classic American Literature" by D.H. Lawrence, published in New York by Thomas Seltzer in 1923, featuring clean minimal typography and a small triangular publisher's emblem at the center. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/60547/60547-h/60547-h.htm

                                                            [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                            @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                            Despierta sudando entre la lluvia que solo él escucha. Un sueño que no se va.
                                                            Pero Erina duerme a su lado, babeando la almohada.
                                                            A veces, el caos duele menos cuando alguien te ancla al mundo. ¿Hasta cuándo podrá seguir...?
                                                            fictograma.com/d/3398-restos-d

                                                              [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                              @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                              Cuando vuelve la fiebre mundialista, uno revive glorias ajenas y propias: el Maracanazo, la mano de Dios, Pelé, el ‘94 de mi viejo… y esa locura de eliminatorias donde clasificamos de milagro.
                                                              fictograma.com/d/3400-gregorio

                                                                [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                                @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                                "Seguros Contra lo Inexplicable - Cap 5": El sobre negro llegó oliendo a madera quemada y ceniza. Milo lo guardó con manos temblorosas y desde entonces solo es una sombra que teclea. Rayla dice que lo va a interrogar mañana.

                                                                fictograma.com/d/3401-seguros-

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Paper Made Horses. Poem by Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. His poems in his own voice.

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Caballos de hojas. Poema de Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. Sus poemas en su voz.

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Morbid Fascination. Poem by Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. His poems in his own voice.

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Morbo simulado. Poema de Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. Sus poemas en su voz.

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Donkeyland. Story by Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. His poems in his own voice.

                                                                  [?]Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga » 🌐
                                                                  @siradramelekallighieri@mastodon.social

                                                                  Borricolandia. Cuento de Rolando Enrique Rosales Murga. Sus poemas en su voz.

                                                                  [?]Isaac Asimov » 🤖 🌐
                                                                  @CuratedAsimov@mastodon.social

                                                                  "A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law."

                                                                    [?]Hacker News » 🤖 🌐
                                                                    @h4ckernews@mastodon.social

                                                                    Mir Books – Books from the Soviet Era

                                                                    mirtitles.org

                                                                      [?]The Vulgar Tongue » 🤖 🌐
                                                                      @TheVulgarTongue@zirk.us

                                                                      SIMEONITES, (at Cambridge,) the followers of the Rev. Charles Simeon, fellow of King's College, author of Skeletons of Sermons, and preacher at Trinity church; they are in fact rank methodists.

                                                                      A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                      --
                                                                      @histodons

                                                                      Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): SIMEONITES, (at Cambridge,) the followers of the Rev. Charles Simeon, fellow of King's College, author of Skeletons of Sermons, and preacher at Trinity church; they are in fact rank methodists. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                      Alt...Image imitating a page from an old document, text (as in main toot): SIMEONITES, (at Cambridge,) the followers of the Rev. Charles Simeon, fellow of King's College, author of Skeletons of Sermons, and preacher at Trinity church; they are in fact rank methodists. A selection from Francis Grose’s “Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue” (1785)

                                                                        [?]Fictograma.com » 🌐
                                                                        @fictograma@mastodon.social

                                                                        📚 ¿Hasta dónde puede llegar el absurdo? En el capítulo 6 de ¿Conoces a Polo D'Poc?, un robo por un Flexi-Fluxi desata un caos surrealista entre explosiones, protocolos ridículos
                                                                        fictograma.com/d/3402-conoces-

                                                                          [?]Book dedications bot » 🤖 🌐
                                                                          @dedication_bot@stefanbohacek.online

                                                                          Whitewalling: Art, Race & Protest in 3 Acts by Aruna D'Souza

                                                                          To my friend Linda Nochin and my grandmother Sita Lala, two women who showed me that what is right is always better than what is safe.

                                                                          Alt...To my friend Linda Nochin and my grandmother Sita Lala, two women who showed me that what is right is always better than what is safe.

                                                                            [?]Truone » 🌐
                                                                            @jhlyon@mastodon.social

                                                                            My books are greatly reduced: smashwords.com/profile/view/cl
                                                                            Part of my publisher ’ Annual Summer/Winter Sale

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