can you tell me a Story?
    what kind of a Story do you want me to tell?
    ( i am so full of Stories sometimes it feels like i am made of nothing else. i will give them to you, one by one, until there is nothing left in me. )
 
tell me about the brightest boy you ever knew.
    bright can mean a lot of things. bright like gold, like dawn, like stars…
    ( even cannon fire and muzzle flares and sword glints are bright in the darkest nights. )
 
you can choose. it’s your Story. i don’t mind.
    okay. i’ll tell you a story about the brightest Boy i ever knew.
    ( it doesn’t matter anyway; they’re all about the same Boy. it’s always been about the same Boy. )
 
does it have a happy ending?
    if i tell you now, it’ll ruin the Story.
    ( there is no ending because i refuse to call this Story finished. i am still hoping that it finds a happy ending somewhere beyond the apocalypse. )
 
fine. i’m listening.
    once upon a time, there was a Boy with fool’s gold for hair and dawn in his blood.
    ( and i couldn’t stop him from burning up with the fire in his heart. but he was beautiful when he burned. )

and for a moment, the world was too. ( j.p. ) || insp. (via pencap)

beachdeath:

the most #UselessLesbian thing i have ever done was when i was trying to figure out if this girl liked me or not, just constantly arguing with myself about it, and after a couple, uh, months, of this, i was like, “god i wish i could just like… go to court and lay out all this evidence and have a couple lawyers argue over the TRUE MEANING of her text messages, and then a judge tells me if she likes me or not.” and then the proverbial lightbulb went off over my proverbial head, and i dug into my mock trial folder from high school and found the trial guidelines and i wrote out an entire trial transcript featuring a plaintiff (me), my attorney (my wildest hopes and dreams), a defense attorney (my worst fears and insecurities), and a judge (my desperate attempt at rationality). the final product was several thousand words long. it clarified nothing. at any point in this process did it occur to me to ask her how she felt about me? absolutely not. did i ever stop and think, “hey, maybe i should tell her that i like her?” absolutely not. that’s for people who take risks and i don’t take risks i take myself to court in my own head.

the-flightoficarus:

skye07:

satyinepu:

rae-napier:

petermorwood:

unbossed:

boonbucks-city-beach:

crows-cats-and-cackles:

grossrabbit:

grossrabbit:

fucked up how cooking and baking from scratch is viewed as a luxury…..like baking a loaf of bread or whatever is seen as something that only people with money/time can do. I’m not sure why capitalism decided to sell us the idea that we can’t make our own damn food bc it’s a special expensive thing that’s exclusive to wealthy retirees but it’s stupid as hell and it makes me angry

bread takes like max 4 ingredients counting water and sure it takes a couple hours but 80% of that is just waiting around while it does the thing and you can do other things while it’s rising/baking

plus im not gonna say baking cured my depression bc it didn’t but man is it hard to feel down when you’re eating slices of fresh bread you just made yourself. feels like everything’s gonna be a little more ok than you thought. it’s good.

bread is amazing and it’s also been sold to us as something really hard to make? Every time I tell someone I made a loaf of bread I get reactions like “you made it yourself???” and “do you have a bread machine then?”
I haven’t touched a bread machine in probably 10 years.
You CAN make your own bread, folks, and it’s actually pretty cheap to do so. I believe the most expensive thing I needed for it was the jar of yeast. It was about $6 at the grocery store and lasted me MONTHS (just keep it in the fridge.) The packets are even cheaper.
destroy capitalism. bake your own bread.

You can also make your own yeast by making a sourdough starter, so that cuts cost even more.

But you have to feed the starter daily/weekly and that means it grows quickly, but there are tons of recipes online for what to do with your excess starter. Cookies, pretzels, crackers, pancakes, waffles, you name it!!

Here’s a link to The Home Baking Association’s site. It has recipes and tips.

Make it even easier – “No-Knead Bread”. All YOU do is mix the ingredients together and wait until it’s time to heat the oven. The yeast does all the rest.

Here’s @dduane​’s first take on it and the finished product. We’ve made even more photogenic batches since.

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Kneading is easy as well; either let your machine do it, or if you don’t want to or don’t have one, get hands-on. It’s like mixing two colours of Plasticine to make a third. Flatten, stretch, fold, half-turn, repeat – it takes about 10 minutes – until the gloopy conglomeration of flour, yeast, salt and water that clings to your hands at the beginning, becomes a compact ball that doesn’t stick to things and feels silky-smooth.

Here’s what before and after look like.

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My Mum used to say that if you were feeling out of sorts with someone, it was good to
make bread because you could transfer your annoyance into kneading the
dough REALLY WELL, and both you and the bread would be better for it.

Then you put it into a bowl, cover it with cling-film and let it rise until it doubles in size, turn it out and “knock it back” (more kneading, until it’s getting back to the size it started, this means there won’t be huge “is something living in here?” holes in the bread), put it into your loaf-tin or whatever – we’ve used a regular oblong tin, a rectangular Pullman tin with a lid, a small glass casserole, an earthenware chicken roaster…

You can even use a clean terracotta flowerpot.

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Let the dough rise again until it’s high enough to look like an unbaked but otherwise real loaf, then pop it in the preheated oven. On average we give ours 180°C / 355°F for 45-50 minutes. YM (and oven) MV.

Here’s some of our bread…

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Here’s our default bread recipe – it takes about 3-4 hours from flour jar to cutting board depending on climate (warmer is faster) most of which is rise time and baking; hands-on mixing, kneading and knocking-back is about 20 minutes, tops, and less if using a mixer.

Here ( or indeed any of the other pics) is the finished product. This one was given an egg-wash to make it look glossy and keep the poppy-seeds in place; mostly we don’t bother with that or the slash down the middle, but all the extras were intentional as a “ready for my close-up” glamour shot.

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I think any shop would be happy to have something this good-looking on their shelf.

We’re happy to have it on our table.

Even if your first attempts don’t work out quite as well as you hope, you can always make something like this

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can we have more posts like this in future please? this is really useful and could help those who are struggling

…it’s not hard?………shit….I always thought it was

I had the most stupid idea. Breaking bad // Baking Bread 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Wait? Baking bread is this easy?

Any Black female who lives in Oakland

booper-dooper:

kaila-baila:

melanin-rich-bitch:

callmespike:

spacemaester:

deerxdance:

wifigirl2080:

Do not go to the liquor store on 90th and MacArthur, around 10-14 Black men will be standing out there with vans and they will try to snatch you up, the Arab dudes who own the liquor store are in on it do not go there during the night, if it wasn’t for my boyfriend being with me last night they would have got me #staywoke

SUPER IMPORTANT!!!!

PLEASE REBLOG THIS

Cuz I know a few of my followers out that way

Don’t go during the day either! My cousin and sister seen these vans in broad day light. They were scared shitless. They kept their distance, and no harm was done. I showed them this post a week later, they should’ve been warned sooner. PLEASE REBLOG THIS!

SIGNAL BOOST TO SAVE A LIFE.

Idk if anyone lives out this way, but a good warning nonetheless! Please be careful and aware of your surroundings!

i left home a child
     and came back to trumpeting heralds
                              and parades in my name 
                              and historybooks with my face on the front cover––
     a hero. 
 
i left home a child
     and came back a hero
     but no one seems to see that a hero is a warrior
     and a warrior must first be born of war.
 
and i see too many children
        chasing after my footprints with joy
        wearing armour like blankets and helmets like crowns
        laughing with eyes bright as the faraway glint of sniper scopes.
 
and i do not want to leave a legacy
     of bloodstains and bruised knuckles
     and teeth clenched around burning bullets.
 
and i do not want anyone else
to leave home a child
     and come back a hero
tasting blood on every passing wind
and regret on every shaking breath.
 
but i left home a child
     and came back a hero
     and only a hero––
 
––not the historian who writes the legends
     or the god who writes the stars 
and i do not have it in me
to stop the next warrior
     who leaves home a child
          and comes back a hero.

the hero’s lament ( j.p. ) || home, legacies and regrets for anonymous 
(via pencap)