Rustsæter

Conquered Antiquity - Ryan Bittner

And if you’re wondering - yes, it’s theorised that this event, or the combination of the others like it, was responsible for the flood myths that exist in so many cultures. Coastal and lowland settlements around the world would have found themselves in a period of time where the sea just kept rising - not overnight, but inexorably and seemingly without any end in sight. Many, many cultures would have retreated to higher ground, only to find a few months later that the water was once more lapping at their doors.  In some ways I find that even more profoundly terrifying than the idea of a wall of water sweeping everything away.

That region had tropical climate, even at the peak of the last glaciation. There could have been a thriving agricultural civilization in those bygone river valleys 10,000 years before it started all over again in the Near East, and we wouldn’t know.

And don’t even get me started on the Zanclean Flood, because WOW

In honor of this post coming back around on my dashboard, here are more maps of Doggerland through the ages, from Barry Cunliffe’s Europe Between the Oceans.

It’s hard to know what might have been down there, since we can’t exactly do archaeology on the seafloor.

drew fanart of the thang

paleozoic menagerie

it was the most magical day of my life

each of these is available on my kofi as an adoptable

calculusmadeeasy.org

Love Rainy Weather....

(1. annie dillard, teaching a stone to talk 2. the deep underground neutrino experiment, a.k.a. DUNE 3. the large hadron collider 4. the sudbury neutrino observatory)

#TheDreadWolfRises

Always falling into a hole, then saying “ok, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of the hole which is not the grave, falling into a hole again, saying “ok, this is also not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of that hole, falling into another one; sometimes falling into a hole within a hole, or many holes within holes, getting out of them one after the other, then falling again, saying “this is not your grave, get out of the hole”; sometimes being pushed, saying “you can not push me into this hole, it is not my grave,” and getting out defiantly, then falling into a hole again without any pushing; sometimes falling into a set of holes whose structures are predictable, ideological, and long dug, often falling into this set of structural and impersonal holes; sometimes falling into holes with other people, with other people, saying “this is not our mass grave, get out of this hole,” all together getting out of the hole together, hands and legs and arms and human ladders of each other to get out of the hole that is not the mass grave but that will only be gotten out of together; sometimes the willful-falling into a hole which is not the grave because it is easier than not falling into a hole really, but then once in it, realizing it is not the grave, getting out of the hole eventually;  sometimes falling into a hole and languishing there for days, weeks, months, years, because while not the grave very difficult, still, to climb out of and you know after this hole there’s just another and another; sometimes surveying the landscape of holes and wishing for a high quality final hole; sometimes thinking of who has fallen into holes which are not graves but might be better if they were; sometimes too ardently contemplating  the final hole while trying to avoid the provisional ones; sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!" 

For the past while I’ve been working on a comic called Lady of the Shard, about an acolyte in love with a goddess. It’s somewhat experimental and more than a little gay. You can read the whole thing for free over here.

(via)

But sometimes I see a little clay figure that didn't have practiced hands spending hours skillfully smoothing sharp designs into it, and I can still see the little divots of fingerprints and shaky carvings of a two-dots-and-a-smile face. Sometimes I see a manuscript or a scroll where the lines of text wander around the page, the characters or letters getting bigger and smaller and cramping at the edges. Little carvings of horn or bone with asymmetrical eyes and a wonky expression that's trying to be a smile. There's beauty in skill, but in amateur art I feel like I can see the hands of the person who made it.

Specifically thinking about this guy by the way. Sculpture in Thailand during this period was about to dominate architecture with massively complex dragons and building-sized Buddha statuary and gilded elegance. And somebody sat down one day and made a lumpy little snake. And it's now a museum piece because humans have always just loved keeping the little pieces of art they make.

Uluru blackh●le rise, me, pixel art, 2022