Netthode, røynd geriljaarkivar, nyfiken, spelglad, småbarnspappa, har eit rekreasjonelt forhold til rekneark, sykler på ein el-omafiets, gjer Kessel Run på under 12 ps. Tidlegare radiofjes. #dftba #grønn
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41% complete! Andreas H.O. has read 5 of 12 books.
Maria Can // Johndoe – Ja takk til trøbbel – NABOK064
På slutten av 90-tallet …
Her er eg ikkje habil sidan eg både har støtta boka med pengar og er intervjuobjekt, men ein fin gjennomgang av eit av mine absolutte favorittband sin spede oppstart – inkludert nokre perspektiv frå ein rockehungrig 15-åring inst i Sognefjorden.
Andreas H.O.
boosted
Dune is a 1965 science-fiction novel by American author Frank Herbert, originally published as two …
DUNE (1965): Svarte, for en bok. Mye mer lettlest enn fryktet, tross Herberts psilocybin-kaninhull. Gjennomført, slagkraftig. Akkurat annerledes nok til at Villeneuve-filmene fungerte godt på egne ben, lik nok til å kjenne seg igjen i historien og ha en kontekst å lese ut ifra. En bok som anbefales å lese i noen få, lange lesestrekk, ikke nødvendigvis noe du plukker opp når du har et par minutter til overs.
Har du ringt til en vaskemaskinreparatør og fått beskjed om at det ikke lønner seg …
Ei kortfatta og lettlest samanfatting med konkrete tiltak og fine case frå norsk repararatørar og nærliggande bransjer – med den viktige skiljelinja mellom resirkulering og reparasjon/vedlikehald framheva. Forfattaren har hatt temaet som interessefelt i mange år, og dette er ei oppsummering av mykje arbeid.
She let out a breath. “Ashley, you’re the only person who has to live in your skin, and wake up with the consequences of your choices. That’s why you can’t let other people make the big choices for you. You have to do what it feels right to do, and you can’t let anybody stop you.” I heard the stifled smile again. “Not even me.”
The adult men in my community noticed my body was changing before I did, and they did not hesitate to keep me updated.
We wanted to be good, as all children do, but as young Black children learn sooner than others, we don’t all get the chance to be seen that way.
One time a boy told me my mother was ugly, and I fought him so hard I ended up with a reputation. Ashley Ford will fight boys. I liked that.
I was much more interested in bearing witness to all this freedom. Grown-ups seemed lighter at night, like their feet might hover an inch or two off the ground as soon as the sun went down. The later it got, the higher they flew.
Parents were different when their children slept, and I had become an expert at making myself invisible enough to watch the transformation.
As I attempted to drive this boy into the sandpit beneath his writhing body, I remembered my grandmother telling me, “I never lost a fight in my life, because I never stopped fighting until I won.”
My grandmother used to say, “What’s the point of living by everybody if you don’t want to see anybody?” I came from social people, and though I felt overwhelmed by their company, I was always glad to see them. My mother was often in a good mood when she had good company.
Kids can always tell the difference between adults who want to empower them, and adults who want to overpower them. She was the former.
“These things catch fire without letting each other go. We don’t give up on our people. We don’t stop loving them.” She looked into my face, her eyes watering at the bottoms. “Not even when we’re burning alive.”
I didn’t know any adults who apologized to children, and so his apology felt as wrong to me as my mother’s tears.
Ever since his girlfriend left town to deal with her newly acquired taste for blood, …
A Faerie Queen. A Faerie Queen was standing in my office […] "Yes," she murmured. "Wise enough to be afraid. To understand, at least in part. How does it feel, to know what you know, child?" My voice came out unsteady, and more quiet than I would have liked. “Sort of like Tokyo when Godzilla comes up on the beach.” Mab tilted her head, watching me with that same smile. Maybe she didn’t get the reference. Or maybe she didn’t like being compared to a thirty-story lizard. Or maybe she did like it. I mean, how should I know? I have enough trouble figuring out human women.
— Summer Knight by Jim Butcher (Dresden Files (4))
