Leave them a note telling them that they are awesome.


Someone saw my [still under construction] TARDIS book and left this note:



When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

As you bounce the graviton particle beam off the main deflector dish.



When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

Skull linoleum carving with hand-set metal type (14pt Bembo Italic).



Linoleum monkey could technically be any color, but of course he's blue.


( Evgryd )
I actually did the wood engraving workshop first, but then linoleum carving was so much easier in comparison.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

( I definitely under-inked the main text, but too late now. )
Besides, hand-set type, people! Beat that.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

So I made the mistake of reading a bunch of articles about reproductive rights and the contraception debate and then listening to the Little Mermaid soundtrack, and now my brain has busted out this bizarre feminist meta wherein Mermaid choosing to become Human = [bright young] Women [sick of swimmin'] choosing to become Sexually Active, but how in so doing they are expected to give up their voice in regards to the consequences.

Yeah, I don't know either. My brain hurts.

(Betcha on land, they understand, bet they don't reprimand their daughters.)

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

So, I'm coming up with prompts to leave at spn_bitesized's current theme of Death, and I'm about to put "Death dances" as a prompt when this happens:

Death dances, Death sings,
"Mortals kill all the things
that they hold dear
as they clutch them in fear
of the unknown that awaits
at the gates
of their inevitable fates.
For all mortals must die
and that's when I,
Oh I,
an eternal sleep I bring them
with the lullaby I sing them."
Death Sings, Death Dances
for all of the chances,
for the hours and minutes and days
that might have been spent in other ways.
Death dances to the beat
of endless defeat
for no one can escape,
not the highest power now the lowliest ape.
Every microbe and cell
one day ceases to dwell
on this Earth that we know
we are part of Death's show.
Death dances with us.

---

And then I didn't entirely like that, so I grabbed the last line and started over:

Death dances with us
Though we do not know the steps
[Death Knows]
So we balance our toes on his shoes
As he shuffles about
We cling to his waist
As he turns and bows
To each of us
We know the Dance is done
But there are always others
Death dances with them.

---

More modifications:

Death dances with us
Though we don't know the steps
[Death Knows]
So we balance our toes on the tops of his shoes
As he shuffles about
We cling to his waist
Till he pries off our embrace
And we are forced to return to solid ground
[Lost and now Found]
The Dance is over.

---

And I'm still not happy with it, so I think I'll leave the prompt after all and see what someone else comes up with (if anyone responds, anyway).

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

And because I was sewing some with embroidery floss, I have decided that endbands are like friendship bracelets for books.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

Because the rights of hypothetical children that don't actually exist supersede those of living breathing human women.



This post is brought to you by NPR being on in the bookbinding studio, and the fact that I had to put headphones on because it is too early in the morning for me to experience this much rage.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

The Fairy's Lament
I fell to earth in a dew drop,
and found that I'd lost my way.
So ever since then,
I've tried to get home again,
and I pray that I will someday.

[I'm trying to find the YouTube equivalent for audio files and this is clearly not it due to the ad that's longer than the song, but a "Skip Ad" link comes up on the left in red part way through, so you don't have to watch the whole thing]

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

So on the one hand, I probably shouldn't go to the Library Book Sale tomorrow because I have plenty of books to read and reread and I shouldn't be adding more to my collection when I'll probably just be moving again come the end of July.

On the other [evil grasping Gollum] hand:
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

that my first thought upon seeing a student with a highlighter in her mouth on the bus was that in the inevitable Final Destination-esque bus crash, she'd totally wind up with that highlighter coming out through the back of her skull.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

No more diarrhea, no more of this not peeing nearly enough for all the water you're drinking nonsense, and most certainly no more sneezing. That is just completely uncalled for.

Sigh.

Guess who needs to go to the Vet. Again.


[And yeah, I know the peeing is related to the diarrhea dehydration, but the whole shebang is worrying me to the point where I'm sick, so between the two of us, the apartment smells just fantastic.]

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

Turns out it was originally a Turquoise Whatsit before it went through Bootsie's digestive system, and from what I can tell, what came out Saturday night is all of what he ate, which is good news on the "there's not more in there" front. And it was actually a piece of ribbon folded in half and sewn with a hem that then served as the drawstring for a pair of pajama pants. In other news, I've figured out why Bootsie likes sleeping on the laundry pile so much (and why that closet will now be closed thankyouverymuch).

He's still having diarrhea though, so we're keeping our 4:20pm Vet appointment.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

If it can go wrong, it will go wrong. If it will go wrong, there's nothing you can do but deal the the aftermath of wrongness.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

The Boots started having tummy troubles yesterday which culminated in the evening with him, uh, relieving himself of what I believe to be the culprit. Which leads to me wondering what the hell I [used to] own that's like a green tie or drawstring type thingy. Because, you know, if there's more of it or something similar, I'd like to prevent him from eating that in the future. Now, I know he likes to eat ribbony stringy things based on an incident early in our acquaintance involving the vomiting up of said ribbon, as well as later instances involving the removal of string from his mouth and throat. As a result of this, I tend to be fairly conscientious about such things. Of course, the original ribbon was in a closed box that he opened, and he ate off the tip of Babs's ear for fuck's sake so there's only so much I can do.
Right, so at first I thought it was a green ribbon, but closer examination (say it with me now: eeewwwwwwwwwwww) revealed that it was a folded over piece of cloth with a machine-sewn hem, and I have been wracking my brain and looking all over the apartment to see if I can find something that's missing a Green Whatsit, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what the bloody fuck he ate.

The good news is that he seems to be doing better today, and I got my car battery recombobulated such that I can take him to the vet sometime this week if need be.

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

It is not necessary to announce (via howls of bloody murder) that you have killed your bear five times in one night. I have no doubt that your bear is really most sincerely dead.
Love,
Your Sleep-Deprived Mommy

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.

and I found this:

"For him that stealeth a Book from this Library, let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck with Palsy, and all his Members blasted. Let him languish in Pain crying aloud for Mercy and let there be no sur-cease to his Agony till he sink in Dissolution. Let Bookworms gnaw his Entrails in token of the Worm that dieth not, and when at last he goeth to his final Punishment, let the flames of Hell consume him for ever and aye."
— Curse Against Book Stealers
Monastery of San Pedro, Barcelona

When you're in trouble, you can call DW.