Bitches came over, yeah we threw a party
(Source: allthings-ovo, via sashayed)
(Source: pleatedjeans, via rlottery)
The “first man-made biological leaf” could enable humans to colonise space»
Melchiorri’s Silk Leaf project, which he developed as part of the Royal College of Art’s Innovation Design Engineering course in collaboration with Tufts University silk lab, consists of chloroplasts suspended in a matrix made out of silk protein.
"The material is extracted directly form the fibres of silk," Melchiorri explains. "This material has an amazing property of stabilising molecules. I extracted chloroplasts from plant cells and placed them inside this silk protein. As an outcome I have the first photosynthetic material that is living and breathing as a leaf does."
but liiiiiiike until we can synthesize chloroplasts from scratch does this actually help at all?
The Rumblr’s in-house astrologer, Madame Clairevoyant, presents her latest dispatch from the stars:
Cancer: In the warm soft days ahead, there is going to be so much magic available to you, more than you know, more than you can even imagine. There’s going to be so much you can see, so much you can do, so much in the air. You can let your days fill with color, you can let your nights fill with song, you can charm every person around you, you can fill your own heart with weird bright joy. Try to believe in your own powers. Try to believe in your own body.
Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.
You write, “It’s like I keep figuring this shit out, and then forgetting it immediately.” That’s not your strange little personal problem. That’s not what makes you uniquely fucked. That’s a universal truth, a fundamental dimension of the human condition. You know who feels that way? You, me…
9:17 p.m. Earlier I said these mozzarella sticks taste like garbage. I would like to amend that statement. They taste worse than garbage. I would prefer to eat garbage, because then there would be the chance I would get to eat a bite of something good someone started to eat but couldn’t finish, or paper.
The water outside TGI Friday’s is black now.
9:23 p.m. I keep thinking I hear people say “Caity.” I write down in my notebook that I am “definitely hallucinating.”
I put my head near the table to write more and the scent of old marinara and burnt rubber fills my nostrils. I sit back up.
9:36 p.m. A waiter tries to give me another table’s Boneless Buffalo Wings. Do not tempt me, Satan. — My 14-Hour Search for the End of TGI Friday’s Endless Appetizers by Caity Weaver (via whitehilling)