imaginary circus

Writer, fangirl, bon vivant. My interests are all over the map. I love good stories however they come packaged.

Liker of coffee and words. Occasionally cranky. tumblr elderly. I apologize in advance for my tags.

I just looked up the history of ketchup, for no good reason. Just that I’d always wondered. Wikipedia says originally Chinese, then Malay—then brought by Brit explorers to the Colonies. And originally it was made with lots of things. Shellfish. Mushrooms. But in American it became tomato based.

I found this 200+ year old recipe for making some. (The silver spoon makes sense because tomatoes are acidic and reactive against many metals. They didn’t have stainless steel cookware in 1801.)

  1. Get [the tomatoes] quite ripe on a dry day, squeeze them with your hands till reduced to a pulp, then put half a pound of fine salt to one hundred tomatoes, and boil them for two hours.
  2. Stir them to prevent burning.
  3. While hot press them through a fine sieve, with a silver spoon till nought but the skin remains, then add a little mace, 3 nutmegs, allspice, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and pepper to taste.
  4. Boil over a slow fire till quite thick, stir all the time.
  5. Bottle when cold.
  6. One hundred tomatoes will make four or five bottles and keep good for two or three years.

He was falling asleep and I was lying next to him. We do that sometimes because he goes to sleep much earlier than I do. Then I get up and read and fail to hydrate. (I am sitting her with a 2/3s of a smart water from Monday and a bottle of Poland Spring from Tuesday. We’re one hour into Wed. This doesn’t look good.)

Anyway. He said, “I know it’s still July, but I’ve started thinking it’s August already. Because it’s going to be here so fast. But it’s still really July.”

-silence for a minute

"OH MY GOD! It’s the 22nd! I missed our anniversary!"


"Oh, no. It’s still July. I thought it was weird that you didn’t say anything. I thought you’d at least make a post on tumblr about how I’m a jerk because I forgot our wedding anniversary."

me: crying with laughter into my pillow like Edward Cullen on his wedding night.


when you leave your three year old brother in your room with your mac. 

(via imagineagreatadventure)

I don’t know how I feel about this at all. The site is slow right now. IDK if it’s my connection or if the site is getting slammed because article in NYTs. Actual metadata used from social media to map cats.


This week is dedicated to the An Unfortunate Lily Maid scene. Submit your own posts or reblog what we post each day.


You know. This was a tactical error in some ways. Because these posts make me want to TELL YOU THINGS. I AM SO EXCITED.

Instead I will ramble. What I have always loved about this scene from the book/film is that Anne is playing a corpse. Elaine, The Lady of Shalott, is being shipped down the river on her funeral barge. And of course Anne is like THAT’S A GREAT IDEA. LET’S DO THAT.

No surprise that Elaine appeals to Anne so deeply. She’s beautiful and cursed. She weaves constantly and watches the world only in a mirror. She’s not allowed to gaze directly at it. Then she sees Lancelot in her mirror on his way to Camelot and turns and looks directly at him. Her mirror cracks and she knows the curse is descending. She leaves her tower and writes her name on a boat. Waits for sunset. The boat bears her down to Camelot and she arrives dead.

Everyone is afraid. Except Lancelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.

Anne doesn’t arrive beautiful and dead at Camelot to be admired by Lancelot. She ends up wet, clinging to a bridge pile—and is reluctantly rescued by a laughing Gilbert Blythe. Gilbert is nothing like Lancelot, but Anne is overly romantic and too naive to see that that is a very good thing. In real life Lancelot would be a pain in the ass. He’s not going to make you tea when you’re weary, or help you before you’re cursed, or notice you at all until you are dead. He sure as hell is going to give you his job to make your life easier.


Peeta Mellark: Spirit of Strength

Capitol Couture has been waiting eagerly for the next wave of incredible images of our cherished elite, and here they are! Fresh from the excitement of the most eventful Quarter Quell to date, we are thrilled and honored to present the new Capitol Citizen Living Portraits.

As our Quarter Quell victors, Peeta Mellark and Johanna Mason hold the distinct honor of being the first Capitol citizens featured within a Living Portrait.  Peeta stands tall and true in his Capitol Citizen Living Portrait, his matte leather Unconditional ensemble showcasing a stone-like texture and channeling the victor’s quiet strength, completed by shirt and shoes courtesy of Maison Martin Margiela. The paper collar piece, designed by David Mason, mirrors the sculptural elements in Johanna’s dress and gives a stern ambiance to the baker’s son. With an unprecedented two victories under his belt, Peeta is no longer the boy who bravely faced the 74th Hunger Games, but a true Capitol hero.   

Citizens can witness the artist’s hand-selected series of Living Portraits in person at SOCA this summer.

This is freaking terrifying and heartbreaking. Watch it all the way through. He’s turning, turning and you’re like OK. They brainwashed him, dressed him up in televangelist white, and are turning and filming him. Then he comes around just past the first 360 rotation and catches sight of the camera and gets visibly uncomfortable. Like he forgot what was going on. Cameras haven’t done him any good and no matter what they do to him, I don’t think they can get him to like being on camera. His gaze slides elsewhere. He keeps turning. As he’s coming around to face the camera for the third time—you can see him trying to steel himself, swallowing hard. His eyes are shifting about. And the look he gives the camera is haunting. And then he has to look away.

Contrast to Peeta on camera during the games or at the pre-game interviews. He played to the crowds so perfectly. He worked them. He acted. But he knew who he was then and he wanted something very specific. He wanted to save Katniss and to a lesser degree himself. Now he doesn’t know who he is or what he wants and so cameras are terrifying.


Peeta Mellark and Johanna Mason: a Capitol Couture Exclusive

"Let’s get on with it then," the battle-ax valkyrie huffs, shifting her weight and crossing her legs impatiently. Johanna Mason is as much a stately figure as ever, her long, bespoke skirt an iridescent pool around her feet. Risen from the waters of the magnificently treacherous Quarter Quell arena, her alabaster skin and flowing blonde locks belie the deadliest of instincts.

President Snow, in his perpetually magnanimous manner, saw fit to offer his personal sitting room for our exclusive interview and we simply could not refuse.The gilded room around us reflects glints of Johanna’s ivory ensemble, snaking around her arms in a woven pattern and blooming into a flared collar. Seated next to her is a silent Peeta Mellark, his fitted snowy suit and structured lapels speaking volumes in the ethereal light of the room.

Throughout our conversation, it is heavily apparent that Johanna is the leader in this duo- she leans forward with every question in an ingrained display of bravado.

“We went through a lot in the arena, but what’s important now is that Peeta and I are representatives of Panem- Districts 7 and 12 combining our efforts for a better future.”

It’s a patriotism that is blatantly on display in the new Capitol Living Portraits series, and Johanna positively gushes about the experience.  

“I don’t even know how long I was on my feet, but those Alexander Wang shoes made me feel like a cloud on a pedestal. It was a really special day.”

The attention to detail in both Johanna’s and Peeta’s respective ensembles for the Living Portrait series is truly astounding upon closer assessment. The sculptural bodice of Ms. Mason’s dress mirrors the shape and movement of the Panem Seal, while Mellark’s paper collar piece adds to the chiseled-yet-natural theme in both outfits. It is an apt metaphor for a nation built up from the ground, raised by its people into beautifully functional, systemically beneficial government.     

“It’s really amazing to be featured in these portraits,” Johanna states. “Peeta and I come from such humble backgrounds- to be representing Panem like never before is such an honor. We are very proud to be featured as the faces of our country.”  

This is painfully good use of transmedia through social media. AND OMG. Johanna SAID WHAT? D:

(via allinablur)





The man entered his home and was absolutely delighted when he discovered someone had stolen every lamp in the house.

oh my god

i just do not understand this post what even


OMG. I actually read this—just the original bit and was like, “Wait. Is this a reference to Epictetus?” Then I read the first “oh my god.” And went back and reread and now I have to go throw myself off a building.

(via smooshless)

Someone scrawled Bad Wolf on the bathroom in this coffee shop.

Happy 7th birthday, Deathly Hallows!

Union Square, NYC. 7.20.2007 - The Knight Bus

(via katia-dreamer)


thank u for saving bi lions

I’m glad they didn’t waste money on copy editors.

(via robinvenetia)




'Just had my day brightened up. Big Caribbean army bloke in front of me on the DLR knitting. Old lady turns to him and says “I didn't know men could knit”. He turns to her and in his best Caribbean accent says “No ma'am, the only thing men can't do is have babies. And there's nothing women can't do.” '

DLR= Docklands Light Railway, London

My kind of man!

Great words!

This is lovely and this man is lovely, but OMG. HIS YARN. It’s going to tangle into a Gordian knot. And you can’t get proper, even tension if you don’t roll your yarn into a ball.

I’m sorry I have such strong feelings (about everything.) But I was taught to knit by a very stern German neighbor who wouldn’t let me cast on scrap yarn until I’d rolled like three trillion skeins into balls of yarn. I tried not winding into a ball once and it was terrible. I felt like Mrs. Frangipane was going to rise from the grave and make me drop every third stitch.

(via kasuchi)










It’s worked for white people, I figured I might as well give it a shot.


I want you to go man!

if this was a white girl this would have had the notes 3 weeks ago

People are sending him racist messages telling him it’s not gonna happen and he doesn’t belong in Disney World over this post. So we’re gonna reblog it even more.



soon, friend. soon


YAY!!!!! I hope he has a great time!!

(via scrawniest-calamity)