The Sound of Sisu

a history of trying to keep boredom at bay





Ice Cream Roses


If you ever want to bring me flowers, these are the kind I like.

"What’s your favourite flower?"
"Ice cream."

(via kurahicosplay)
















It was this guy:


Charles II, huge royal babe and 17th-century fashion icon.


Thank you for NOT calling them ‘vests’.

(via kurahicosplay)


Parade’s End by Ford Madox Ford for tumblr bookclub @projectparadesend.

Gose-uh by Driftwood Brewery.

(via muggs8787)

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If That’s Not Beautiful (Math; prompted poem 30/52) // n.f.

After years of being told otherwise in school,
I am fed up with art teachers who have tried to prove me wrong;
Don’t you dare tell me that math is not an art.

There is beauty in completion and satisfaction
and I may not be able to be your Picasso
but I sure as hell can rationalize your fractions
and give you a worldly distraction
through the means of sheer subtraction.

"Real" artwork may pull at your heartstrings
but mathematics challenges that
by captivating your mind;
My mind refuses to sit still.
So when a demon takes control of my thoughts
I give it algebra instead
because my brain is just a stomach that refuses to feel full
so i feed it equations,
and mathematics is so beautifully foreign
that nothing else matters in life
when you dive into seemingly meaningless numbers and lines.
It is a foolproof escape from the world
and if that’s not beautiful,
then I don’t know what is.

Take a moment to realize
that numbers are not nouns;
they are adjectives.
You cannot hold 2 in the palm of your hand
but you can feel 2 hearts beating
conjoined by a love for computation.
And you cannot see a billion
but you can see the skin cells 
that compose everyone you have ever loved
and if that’s not beautiful
then I don’t know what is.

Call me egotistical
but knowing that fixed answers exist
and i can find them in the matter of mere seconds
reminds me that maybe I can tackle this world
and if that’s not beautiful
then i don’t know what is.

You can travel anywhere in the world
and while symbols may be different,
if you have 57 watermelons and take 10 away,
whether you are in China or Brazil or Russia or Iceland,
you will always have 47 left.
Math, like music, is universal.
It joins us in an unfathomable way
and if that is not beautiful,
then my god I don’t know what is.

I learned two years ago
that flowers of any size, color, or shape
naturally grow petals
at precise angles
to make sure each petal gets the maximum amount of sunlight,
and plants, these insentient beings,
have spirals in numbers of a mathematical series
and if that’s not completely magical
then i don’t know what is.

Did you know
that in flat geometry
the sum of angles in all triangles
must be equal to or less than 180 degrees
but in spherical geometry
it must always be greater than 180 degrees.
And did you know
that when you take the words I write on 2D paper
and give it a 3D presentation
it hits an audience harder than you can imagine,
and we all know poetry is a form of art,
so tell me
do you still think mathematics isn’t?


Why Do Americans Stink at Math?

When Akihiko Takahashi was a junior in college in 1978, he was like most of the other students at his university in suburban Tokyo. He had a vague sense of wanting to accomplish something but no clue what that something should be. But that spring he met a man who would become his mentor, and this relationship set the course of his entire career.

Takeshi Matsuyama was an elementary-school teacher, but like a small number of instructors in Japan, he taught not just young children but also college students who wanted to become teachers. At the university-affiliated elementary school where Matsuyama taught, he turned his classroom into a kind of laboratory, concocting and trying out new teaching ideas. When Takahashi met him, Matsuyama was in the middle of his boldest experiment yet — revolutionizing the way students learned math by radically changing the way teachers taught it.

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Albert Goldbarth, “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby”

Black holes are the seductive dragons of the universe, outwardly quiescent yet violent at the heart, uncanny, hostile, primeval, emitting a negative radiance that draws all toward them, gobbling up all who come too close. Once having entered the tumultuous orbit of a black hole, nothing can break away from its passionate but fatal embrace. Though cons of teasing play may be granted the doomed, ultimately play turns to prey and all are sucked haplessly―brilliantly aglow, true, but oh so briefly so―into the fire-breathing maw of oblivion. Black holes, which have no memory, are said to contain the earliest memories of the universe, and the most recent, too, while at the same time obliterating all memory by obliterating all its embodiments. Such paradoxes characterize these strange galactic monsters, for whom creation is destruction, death life, chaos order. And darkness illumination: for, as dragons are also called worms, so black hole are known as wormholes, offering a mystical and intimate pathway to the farthest reaches of the cosmos, thus bring light as they consume it.
Robert Coover (via inthenoosphere)


We often think of raindrops as spherical or tear-shaped, but, in reality, a falling droplet’s shape can be much more complicated. Large drops are likely to break up into smaller droplets before reaching the ground. This process is shown in the collage above. The initially spherical drops on the left are exposed to a continuous horizontal jet of air, similar to the situation they would experience if falling at terminal velocity. The drops first flatten into a pancake, then billow into a shape called a bag. The bags consists of a thin liquid sheet with a thicker rim of fluid around the edge. Like a soap bubble, a bag’s surface sheet ruptures quickly, producing a spray of fine droplets as surface tension pulls the damaged sheet apart. The thicker rim survives slightly longer until the Plateau-Rayleigh instability breaks it into droplets as well. (Image credit: V. Kulkarni and P. Sojka)


clint barton human disaster

(via mattfractionblog)