Be wary travelling home late on the Piccadilly line when you are tired and maybe preoccupied with those arguments at home, or the quiet desperation of your job. Be wary on those nights where the motion of the carriages rock you back and forth and the air is a fug of tunnel smell and sparks, and all you can see in the window opposite is your reflection against the dark, staring back at you like somebody already lost.
Because if you fall asleep between stations, on certain nights when the moon is in the right place, you will wake with a start as the driver announces ‘this train terminates here’. You’ll curse at yourself and you’ll grab your bag and stagger bleary-eyed off the train. As it pulls away, you’ll realise, puzzled, that you are not in Cockfosters, nor are you in Uxbridge, Heathrow or Rayner’s Lane, and when you stare at the map on the wall of the empty platform, you won’t recognise a single station name.
You are travelling on the Other Lines now. Can you find your way back?
”James Baxter, who is one of the most amazing animators, still is, ever on the planet, has this chip in his head where he understands not only how to make Belle and the Beast dance, but also change it in perspective, so as the camera drops from the ceiling down to the level of Belle and the Beast dancing, that was drawn by a human being, a mere mortal with pencil and a piece of paper to fit into that beautiful computer graphics ballroom.” – Don Hahn, producer of Beauty and the Beast [x]
as much as the concept of Jesus being a fairly normal lad has its charms, im personally very intrigued by the idea of him being just… extremely weird. not even in a mystical sense, just…….staggeringly BIZZARRE.
you go to the well to get some water, and here’s Miriam’s boy, staring at the sky, completely still. his expression is unreadable. you hazard a hello and ask how he’s doing, and he slowly, unblinkingly, lowers his gaze on you (he’s 8 and is missing his frontal teeth, not that this is making you any less uncomfortable) and says “I cannot speak of the state of my being, Nathan son of Saul, my brother, but rejoice for the water you shall take today will be as pure as the soul of the children of Heaven”
…you start sweating
normal person in 1st century Nazareth: making my way downtown, walking fast
*sees J boy, 8 yo, staring at you from across the street*
normal person: walking faster
even funnier, the only person 100% on board with his Prophetic Kid Talk is his mother Miriam, an otherwise placid, absolutely normal woman around 25 or so
kid JC, coming home at twilight, a single white dove following him and chirping with weirdly human-like precision:
moth̫́er,̦͌ ̮̉i h͙̉av͔̽e ͓͗b̘̃r̞̓o̮͘u̲̒gh̟͒t̺́ you a do̗͐ṽ͙e̢͘ ͈̾m͒͢a͈̽dē̝ ỏ̘f ͈̓c̆͜l͔̂aỷ͇ aṋ̑d̳̿ g͢͞i̹̾fted̖͡ ̻͐it ͓͂w̖̿it̎͜h t̥̃h͙͒e ̨̒m̧̂i̡̍ŗ͒â̫cḷ̔è̤ ̛̻of̞̅ l̘̈i̛̦fè̳
Miriam: ! that’s my little boy 🙂 now let’s go get ready for dinner 🙂
her husband Yosef, a carpenter who only marginally got signed up for this:
the recent New Yorker video on “why millennial own so many plants” used the term “plantfluencer” within the first 5 seconds and I have not known peace since that day
this is the reason I hope tumblr continues to exist for a long damn time because no one, not even the most successful and cool popular blogs can ever reach “influencer” status on this blue hell. which is possibly why it will go under but listen, I will cling to this seeming last vestige of enthusiastic hobbyists and goofy storytellers and queer scientists and feral activists and wholesome knowledge seekers untainted by promotional materialism until my dying BREATH
“influencer” is just another word for someone who still fears death.
Like, our stance towards exclusionary theology should not be “well actually if we look in the Bible we can see that it never actually forbids being gay,” but instead “how fucking dare you presume to delimit God’s love? What blasphemous arrogance could have possibly led you to where you are? When did you start worshipping your own image in place of the Divine?”
