Hi, My name is Douglas Turek. You can call me Doug. I'm a witty, somewhat scruffy bookseller and happily married husband and father. I write science fiction and fantasy and poetry, some of which will show up here. Feel free to drop me a line at my first name Douglas, followed by an R, then Turek, add in the pleasing at sign, gmail, then the ubiquitous 'com'.
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Here's my flavors.me page.
What I've liked
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from bookporn  467 notes

It’s a common and easy enough distinction, this separation of books into those we read because we want to and those we read because we have to, and it serves as a useful marketing trope for publishers, especially when they are trying to get readers to take this book rather than that one to the beach. But it’s a flawed and pernicious division… a debased cultural Puritanism, which insists that the only fun to be had with a book is the frivolous kind, or that it’s necessarily a pleasure to read something accessible and easy. Associating pleasure and guilt in this way presumes an anterior, scolding authority—one which insists that reading must be work.

But there are pleasures to be had from books beyond being lightly entertained. There is the pleasure of being challenged; the pleasure of feeling one’s range and capacities expanding; the pleasure of entering into an unfamiliar world, and being led into empathy with a consciousness very different from one’s own; the pleasure of knowing what others have already thought it worth knowing, and entering a larger conversation.

[…]

The fallacy that the pleasures offered by reading must necessarily be pleasures to which a self-defeating sense of shame is attached offers a very impoverished definition of gratification, whatever book we choose to pull from the shelf.

By

In a beautiful New Yorker essay, Rebecca Mead, author of My Life in Middlemarch, extols the pleasure of reading to impress yourself.

Here’s to making your own “beach reading” both pleasurable and intelligent.

(via explore-blog)

Reblogged from quickwitter  79,060 notes

At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare. By

Caitlin Moran (via ratsoff)

Timely.

(via kickballrevolution)

Damn, but this is a beautiful paragraph.

(via jackdogstar)

Reblogged from misskusakabe  108,322 notes

oswhin:

it is my greatest wish to time travel to the future and watch historically inaccurate period dramas about the early 2000s

1998:

"Excuse me, I have to take out…MY PHONE!"

"What? You carry it on your person?  How incredible!  So you can make a phone call outside of your apartment cubicle?"

"Yes, with…INTERNET!"

(a lady clasps her oversized avocado green purse close to her and then faints, her beehive hairdo bouncing lightly on the rubbery ‘asphalt’ roads used in the era.  A man’s pet lizard scurries up his vestments and hides in his velvet deerstalker cap.)

Reblogged from felistella  225 notes

felistella:

aimee-b-loved:

audioper:

spiralingsidewayz:

reallythisguyles:

rocksymom:

shelishoolee:

rudedaddy:

Down on his luck in music production, Dr. Dre decides to go into the steak business. Check your local grocery store for Meats by Dre.

Available at Bed, Bath, and Beyond: Sheets by Dre.

New style of soccer shoes, Cleats by Dre.

New furniture line, Seats by Dre

New clothing line: Pleats by Dr Dre

Stylish boats: Fleets by Dre

Want to see something amazing? Feats by Dre.

We all know how profitable goats can be: Bleats by Dre.

Garden looking lackluster and dry? Pep it up with Peats by Dre!