#garbage
The word garbage sounds like it should mean clothing
It does! Or rather, it does come from garb. Garbage originally meant the small fabric scraps left over from tailoring–all the tiny bits that were too small to cut a pattern piece from.
Back when you generally bought fabric by the yard from a draper and then took it to a tailor to be made up, keeping the garbage was the tailor’s perquisite. Unscrupulous tailors were accused of deliberately cutting to maximize the garbage, which still had various uses in tailoring–as padding, or for backing buttons–and could also be sold for making paper.
That is DELIGHTFUL information oh my god!!! Oh that’s my new favourite bit of trivia thank you so much
…and to the right, we see a large hoard of trash on the stairs and what appears to be some man’s urine in two plastic cups… Welcome to New York City, folks! The Empire State! The Empire state of litter and rampant mental illness that our city still fails to address!
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Were we able to go Zero Waste for a Month? Well um…
…this was sitting in my drafts i totally forgot about it hA
just trying different styles kinda
also his bowtie is ducks
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Everything was typical until the horrible heapbeast arrived. The horrible heapbeast seemed like a bad guy, but he really hated the devil.
This was the day of the interstate marathon, and it was bright-hot, and the summer decay smell smelled strong. Everyone littered like mad until one overlarge trash mound got too overlarge, thereby birthing the horrible heapbeast who needs no introduction. When the race gun fired he took off with the runners suddenly, but leading.
Twenty miles later, the horrible heapbeast raised his arms. He had made friends with the other runners en route, and a woman runner had proposed marriage at mile ten, to which he had nodded. The horrible heapbeast did not understand English. He passed through the victory tape, one mile in the lead. The ribbon men awarded him a blue ribbon. The horrible heapbeast raised his arms again but disintegrated then, finally, back into a garbage pile.
Nobody knows when he’ll rise again, but the next marathon is getting close.
Still Eating Oranges
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