Edoardo Tresoldi is an artist and sculptor from Rome, Italy. The artist’s medium of choice is wire mesh which he molds into figurative sculptures of humans and animals.
The best notes written in manuscripts by medieval monks
Colophon: a statement at the end of a book containing the scribe or owner’s name, date of completion, or bitching about how hard it is to write a book in the dark ages
- Oh, my hand
- The parchment is very hairy
- Thank God it will soon be dark
- St. Patrick of Armagh, deliver me from writing
- Now I’ve written the whole thing; for Christ’s sake give me a drink
- Oh d fuckin abbot
- Massive hangover
- Whoever translated these Gospels did a very poor job
- Cursed be the pesty cat that urinated over this book during the night
- If someone else would like such a handsome book, come and look me up in Paris, across from the Notre Dame cathedral
- I shall remember, O Christ, that I am writing of Thee, because I am wrecked today
- Do not reproach me concerning the letters, the ink is bad and the parchment scanty and the day is dark
- 11 golden letters, 8 shilling each; 700 letters with double shafts, 7 shilling for each hundred; and 35 quires of text, each 16 leaves, at 3 shilling each. For such an amount I won’t write again
- Here ends the second part of the title work of Brother Thomas Aquinas of the Dominican Order; very long, very verbose; and very tedious for the scribe; thank God, thank God, and again thank God
- If anyone take away this book, let him die the death, let him be fried in a pan; let the falling sickness and fever seize him; let him be broken on the wheel, and hanged. Amen
what does oh d fuckin abbot even MEAN
an abbot is the head of a monastery so it just means “fuck my boss” basically, an abbreviation of “O damned fuckin Abbot”. this is what it looks like:
Brasenose College MS 7, f.62v
The story of Cats is that in the 1930s, the famous poet T.S. Eliot wrote a book of cutesy little cat-themed poems for his godchildren
And then 40 years later, Andrew Lloyd Webber found a lost cat poem that T.S. Eliot had cut from the cat book for being too sad for children, and ALW was like "woahhh. A cat....that's sad. That's deep, man. I wanna make a musical out of this"
So the producer assigned to the project was like "okay, I guess you could maybe read these cat poems as a satire of 1930s British society? We could probably do something sort of interesting with that, I'm thinking a cast of about 5 and--"
And ALW was like "no. Forget the satire. Also I want a cast of dozens and the most advanced special effects technology ever seen on stage. I've taken out a second mortgage on my house to fund this"
And the producer was like "wh-- you-- wh-- do you even have. a plot"
So ALW got a bunch of actors and writers and artists together and they holed up and did cocaine workshopped for 5 weeks, and at the end of it they emerged and said "the plot is that a bunch of cats are having a dance contest for the right to take a ufo to cat heaven :)"
and then it made 2 billion dollars.
The opposite of “the elephant in the room” is “the centipede in the room”: something that’s not actually an issue but everyone is freaking out about
As someone who has worked in facilities housing highly venomous centipedes, I can assure you that a “centipede in the room” is in fact a Very Big Issue.
adulthood is spending 20 minutes debating the phrasing of an email that essentially says ‘thanks’
