Ephemeralist

Ephemera at its best.

amythibodeau — Sat, 13 Aug 2022 09:17:24 -0700

Found in a Library Book

Ephemera at its best.

The World’s Most Beautiful Gas Stations

amythibodeau — Fri, 14 May 2021 06:09:04 -0700

The World’s Most Beautiful Gas Stations

(via Fascinating Vintage Photos of a Batman-Themed Dance Class...

amythibodeau — Sat, 17 Apr 2021 09:54:01 -0700

(via Fascinating Vintage Photos of a Batman-Themed Dance Class in New York in the 1960s ~ Vintage Everyday)

Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam… | Poetry Foundation

amythibodeau — Sun, 28 Mar 2021 08:19:41 -0700

Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam… | Poetry Foundation:

“Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.“

(via Starlings Form Murmuration in the Shape of a Huge Bird)

amythibodeau — Fri, 05 Mar 2021 07:42:01 -0800

(via Starlings Form Murmuration in the Shape of a Huge Bird)

commiemartyrshighschool:I fixed the audio for that Boston...

amythibodeau — Sun, 07 Feb 2021 08:03:40 -0800

commiemartyrshighschool:

I fixed the audio for that Boston Dynamics video.

Harry Everett Smith collected was paper airplanes — he picked up...

amythibodeau — Sat, 06 Feb 2021 12:31:32 -0800

Harry Everett Smith collected was paper airplanes — he picked up hundreds of them from the streets and buildings of New York between 1961 and 1983.

(via A Vintage Paper Airplane Collection)

More by Alex Dimitrov

amythibodeau — Sun, 31 Jan 2021 08:48:18 -0800

How again after months there is awe.
The most personal moment of the day
appears unannounced. People wear leather.
People refuse to die. There are strangers
who look like they could know your name.
And the smell of a bar on a cold night,
or the sound of traffic as it follows you home.
Sirens. Parties. How balconies hold us.
Whatever enough is, it hasn’t arrived.
And on some dead afternoon
when you’ll likely forget this,
as you browse through the vintage
again and again—there it is,
what everyone’s given up
just to stay here. Jewelled hairpins,
scratched records, their fast youth.
Everything they’ve given up
to stay here and find more.

Via Laura Olin’s magically newsletter

onceuponatown: Edwardian dogs (and their humans). Ca....

amythibodeau — Sat, 30 Jan 2021 13:24:44 -0800

onceuponatown:

Edwardian dogs (and their humans). Ca. 1900-1905.

Edwardians … they’re just like us.

(via Unlikely Avian Taxonomies – Zoë Sadokierski)

amythibodeau — Sat, 30 Jan 2021 13:23:09 -0800

(via Unlikely Avian Taxonomies – Zoë Sadokierski)

Every photo in this series gives me the feels. I mostly hate...

amythibodeau — Sat, 30 Jan 2021 11:10:37 -0800

Every photo in this series gives me the feels. I mostly hate winter in North America, but also it’s magic. It’s hard to believe that in less than half a year these scenes will be sticky and humid with heat.

(via Dear Winter - franckbohbot)

A30: Georgia Double Parlor, c. 1850 | The Art Institute of Chicago

amythibodeau — Sat, 09 Jan 2021 11:52:08 -0800

A30: Georgia Double Parlor, c. 1850 | The Art Institute of Chicago

Archaeologists uncover ancient street food shop in Pompeii

amythibodeau — Sun, 27 Dec 2020 10:57:15 -0800

Archaeologists uncover ancient street food shop in Pompeii:

More than 2,000 years ago, and it turns out they were just like us. The universal language of commerce and communing over a hot meal.

(via Ephemeral edible: gingerbread monolith appears on San...

amythibodeau — Sun, 27 Dec 2020 10:55:28 -0800

(via Ephemeral edible: gingerbread monolith appears on San Francisco hilltop, then collapses | San Francisco | The Guardian)

Quintessential ephemerality.

(via The Beach Boys- God Only Knows (playing in an abandoned...

amythibodeau — Sat, 26 Dec 2020 11:15:15 -0800

(via The Beach Boys- God Only Knows (playing in an abandoned mall) - YouTube)

claire-foley:Watermelon and Oranges by Jacqueline Suskin from...

amythibodeau — Thu, 24 Dec 2020 09:09:29 -0800

claire-foley:

Watermelon and Oranges by Jacqueline Suskin
from The Edge of the Continent Volume Three - The Desert
via poetryisnotaluxury

Hope.(via World’s Smallest Possum Found, A Sign of Life on...

amythibodeau — Sun, 13 Dec 2020 08:03:19 -0800

Hope.

(via World’s Smallest Possum Found, A Sign of Life on Kangaroo Island Post-Bushfires)

Poem beginning with a retweet

amythibodeau — Sat, 12 Dec 2020 08:41:36 -0800

by Maggie Smith

If you drive past horses and don’t say horses
you’re a psychopath. If you see an airplane
but don’t point it out. A rainbow,
a cardinal, a butterfly. If you don’t
whisper-shout albino squirrel! Deer!
Red fox! If you hear a woodpecker
and don’t shush everyone around you
into silence. If you find an unbroken
sand dollar in a tide pool. If you see
a dorsal fin breaking the water.
If you see the moon and don’t say
oh my god look at the moon. If you smell
smoke and don’t search for fire.
If you feel yourself receding, receding,
and don’t tell anyone until you’re gone.

Here

amythibodeau — Sat, 22 Aug 2020 08:02:48 -0700

This poem by Grace Paley made my cry a little this morning, as I sit in my own garden, enjoying the last long days of summer, feeling the time slip away.

Here

Here I am in the garden laughing
an old woman with heavy breasts
and a nicely mapped face

how did this happen
well that’s who I wanted to be

at last a woman
in the old style sitting
stout thighs apart under
a big skirt grandchild sliding
on off my lap a pleasant
summer perspiration

that’s my old man across the yard
he’s talking to the meter reader
he’s telling him the world’s sad story
how electricity is oil or uranium
and so forth tell my grandson
run over to your grandpa ask him
to sit beside me for a minute I
am suddenly exhausted by my desire
to kiss his sweet explaining lips

PumpkinsThere’s a picture I keep seeing on Facebook of a woman...

amythibodeau — Sat, 01 Aug 2020 09:46:53 -0700

Pumpkins

There’s a picture I keep seeing on Facebook of a woman and a child surrounded by a pile of bright orange pumpkins, smiling up at the camera. It’s a different picture, but so many people have a version of it, encountering a new one feels like deja vu. Common elements include: smiles so broad they look like laughter, cozy sweaters, the arm of the woman slung around the smaller shoulders of the child who is almost in her lap with no air between them. It’s the end of a happy day of hay rides, wheat mazes, and culminates with the child selecting one to three of the bright orange fruit, which will be loaded into the trunk, hauled home, and eventually hollowed out. The picture smells like leaves, the smoke from a fire, and the ghost of a candle right after you blow it out.

There’s something about the golden light of autumn, the weight given to choosing the perfect pumpkin, and the protective arm of the woman that feels so hopeful it aches. Every woman in every version of the photo knows there’s no stopping what’s next. It will come. It always does.

“There are so many hurts in life,” my grandmother once said, long after she’d been one of the women in such a photo.