Grilled Cheese

ExploreLog inSign up
Terms of UsePrivacy PolicyCommunity StandardsHelpGet the app

Grilled Cheese is a product of Village Compute

Version devBuilt at: 2026-10-14 15:26:28 EDT

Explore

PostsPeople
LatestRanked
Load more
@bookwormsat.bsky.socialSep 17, 2026, 5:51 PM

'...and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognise traps, and a lion to frighten wolves.'
-Machiavelli

This Saturday marks 610 years since one of the Medici entered the world, #BookWormSat will travel back in time to the Renaissance! 🦁

The Lion of St Mark by Vittore Carpaccio. Painting of a winged lion holding a book open in which there is a Latin phrase.
@racheldeering.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 11:46 PM

Goodnight.
‘The rain of London pimples
The ebony street with white
And the neon lamps of London
Stain the canals of night
And the park becomes a jungle
In the alchemy of night.’ ~ MacNeice #BookWormSat

Lesser Ury (1861–1931), Street Scene at Night, Berlin. Painting of street at night, wet with rain, lights in distance, car headlights, person in foreground.
@axelkallesoe.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 9:19 PM

"361 steps, in snail-speed, untill you get to the platform and then you have a sight that you will never ever forget - Paris with its wide boulevards, its churches and scores of buildings in all directions."

"The Emperors Paris: 1866" (1916) by M. F. Södring
#BookwormSat

🖼️ Gustave le Gray

Photo, no description
@jimstokes.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 8:09 PM

For this #bookwormsat, buckle up for:

The City and the Stars by Arthur C. Clark. 1956, cover art by George Salter. #booksky

Photo, no description
@pjrobichaud.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 7:17 PM

‘He can see the whole city now, a crystalline shape glowing on the shoreline where once had been nothing but forest and swamp.’ — Michael Redhill, ‘Consolation’ #BookwormSat #Toronto

Cover of Consolation, showing the Gardiner Expressway and the CN Tower in Toronto.
@21rosa.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 5:53 PM

The huge height of the buildings, running up to 10 & 15 stories, the narrow arched entries that continually vomited passengers, the wares of the merchants in their windows, the hubbub & endless stir, the foul smells & fine clothes & a hundred other particulars too small to mention...
#BookwormSat

✍🏻 'Kidnapped' Robert Louis Stevenson (1886) 🎨 'Cardinal Beaton's House, Cowgate, Edinburgh' John Le Conte (1883)
@asls.org.ukSep 12, 2026, 4:45 PM

THE CITY IS WILDER THAN YOU THINK
AND KINDER THAN YOU THINK. IT IS A
VALLEY AND YOU ARE A HORSE IN IT
IT IS A HOUSE AND YOU ARE A
CHILD IN IT SAFE AND WARM HERE
IN THE FIRE OF EACH OTHER

—Robert Montgomery, Light Poem (recycled sunlight)
#BookWormSat #poetry
www.robertmontgomery.org/recycledsunl...

A shop window in a city at night. The building is quite old, and there are drainpipes and cables coming down either side of the shop window. There's a flat above the shop, and there's a light on in one window. There are red, old-fashioned wrought-iron railings outside the shop window. The shop door says "WELCOME TO KK" and there's a sign reading "Sorry we're OPEN". Above the shop window is a set of lights spelling out letters, set in front of a heart and under an arch of stars. The letters read THE CITY IS WILDER THAN YOU THINK AND KINDER THAN YOU THINK. IT IS A VALLEY AND YOU ARE A HORSE IN IT IT IS A HOUSE AND YOU ARE A CHILD IN IT SAFE AND WARM HERE IN THE FIRE OF EACH OTHER
@axelkallesoe.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 4:41 PM

I had previously tried and failed in my search for Pavillions and I knew the cause: cowardice and lack of willpower. The route had to be completely logical; no repetitions or loops and the driveways had to be parallel.

"The Pleasure of My Company" by Steve Martin
#BookwormSat

Pac-Man
@bookwormsat.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 4:19 PM

‘The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lighting of the lamps.’ ~ Eliot
#BookWormSat

🖼️ Ludwik de Laveaux - Place de l'Opéra in Paris Painting of evening street scene with lit lamp and Raman in black on foreground, other people in distance walking along pavements past lit shop fronts.
@asls.org.ukSep 12, 2026, 2:30 PM

Glasgow, you look beatific in blue
and I’ve a Saturday before me
for galleries and poems,
a house full of Haydn,
and beneath my kitchen window,
tennis stars in saris
lobbing backhands at the bins…

—Donny O’Rourke, “Great Western Road”
in The Ghost of Liberace (ASLS, 1993)
#BookWormSat #poem #poetry

Great Western Road Donny O’Rourke Glasgow, you look beatific in blue and I’ve a Saturday before me for galleries and poems, a house full of Haydn, and beneath my kitchen window, tennis stars in saris lobbing backhands at the bins. French coffee, and who knows maybe Allen Ginsberg in my bath! then round to the dairy where scones are cooling on the rack and Jimmy won’t let me leave till I’ve tried one there and then, here, where the new Glasgow started – an old grey city going blonde whose Asian shops are full of fruits we owe to Cap’n Bligh and I’m so juiced I could walk clear to Loch Lomond, past busses stripping the willow all along Great Western Road but I just browse bargains in banjos and pop-art knitted ties, before checking out the crime section at Caledonia Books, finding freesias in the flowershops and in the second hand record store, Bruckner’s Third, The Clevelend under Szell: so sad; like falling for passing students with that black haired, blue eyed look, or buying basil and chorizos . . .In the afternoon I’ll look at paintings in Dougie Thomson’s Mayfest show, maybe stroll down to the studio to view some archive film, past the motorways and multi-storeys of Grieve’s Ultimate Cowcaddens, the peeling pawn at George’s Cross where, today, everything is redeemable because tonight there’ll be guitar poets from Russia at the Third Eye Centre. And later I’ll cook zarzuela for a new and nimble friend. God Glasgow it’s glorious just to gulp you down in heartfuls, feeling something quite like love.
@beesincampanula.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 2:19 PM

‘ I also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on me at last.’
The Bell Jar
Sylvia Plath
#BookWormSat
🖼️ Hopper
New York Movie

The painting depicts a nearly empty movie theater with a few patrons and a contemplative usherette.
@asls.org.ukSep 12, 2026, 2:14 PM

A huddle on the greasy street –
cars stop, nose past, withdraw –
dull glint on soles of tackety boots,
frayed rough blue trousers, nondescript coat
stretching back, head supported
in strangers’ arms…

—Edwin Morgan, “Death in Duke Street”
in CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS (2020)
#BookWormSat #poetry

Death in Duke Street by Edwin Morgan A huddle on the greasy street – cars stop, nose past, withdraw – dull glint on soles of tackety boots, frayed rough blue trousers, nondescript coat stretching back, head supported in strangers’ arms, a crowd collecting – ‘Whit’s wrang?’ ‘Can ye see’m?’ ‘An auld fella, he’s had it.’ On one side, a young mother in a headscarf is kneeling to comfort him, her three-year-old son stands puzzled, touching her coat, her shopping-bag spills its packages that people look at as they look at everything. On the other side a youth, nervous, awkwardly now at the centre of attention as he shifts his arm on the old man’s shoulders, wondering what to say to him, glancing up at the crowd. These were next to him when he fell, and must support him into death. He seems not to be in pain, he is speaking slowly and quietly but he does not look at any of them, his eyes are fixed on the sky, already he is moving out beyond everything belonging. As if he still belonged they hold him very tight. Only the hungry ambulance howls for him through the staring squares.
@asls.org.ukSep 12, 2026, 1:53 PM

Thou hast my kith and kin;
My childhood, youth, and manhood brave;
Thou hast that unforgotten grave
Within thy central din.
A sacredness of love and death
Dwells in thy noise and smoky breath.

—“Glasgow”, by Alexander Smith (1829–1867)
#BookWormSat #poem #poetry

Glasgow Alexander Smith Sing, Poet, ’tis a merry world; That cottage smoke is rolled and curled In sport, that every moss Is happy, every inch of soil;— Before me runs a road of toil With my grave cut across. Sing, trailing showers and breezy downs— I know the tragic hearts of towns. City! I am true son of thine; Ne’er dwelt I where great mornings shine Around the bleating pens; Ne’er by the rivulets I strayed, And ne’er upon my childhood weighed The silence of the glens. Instead of shores where ocean beats, I hear the ebb and flow of streets. . . . Afar, one summer, I was borne; Through golden vapours of the morn, I heard the hills of sheep: I trod with a wild ecstasy The bright fringe of the living sea: And on a ruined keep I sat, and watched an endless plain Blacken beneath the gloom of rain. O fair the lightly sprinkled waste, O’er which a laughing shower has raced! O fair the April shoots! O fair the woods on summer days, While a blue hyacinthine haze Is dreaming round the roots! In thee, O city! I discern Another beauty, sad and stern.Draw thy fierce streams of blinding ore, Smite on a thousand anvils, roar Down to the harbour-bars; Smoulder in smoky sunsets, flare On rainy nights, while street and square Lie empty to the stars. From terrace proud to alley base, I know thee as my mother’s face. When sunset bathes thee in his gold, In wreaths of bronze thy sides are rolled, Thy smoke is dusty fire; And from the glory round thee poured, A sunbeam like an angel’s sword Shivers upon a spire. Thus have I watched thee, Terror! Dream! While the blue Night crept up the stream . . . But all these sights and sounds are strange; Then wherefore from thee should I range? Thou hast my kith and kin; My childhood, youth, and manhood brave; Thou hast that unforgotten grave Within thy central din. A sacredness of love and death Dwells in thy noise and smoky breath.
@theghostmonk.bsky.socialSep 12, 2026, 1:25 PM

"To be born in the street means to wander all your life, to be free. It means accident and incident, drama, movement. It means [...] a harmony of irrelevant facts which gives to your wandering a metaphysical certitude. In the street you learn what human beings really are"
- Henry Miller
#BookWormSat

A photo by Edmund Teske: 'Paperboy, NYC', 1948.
@asls.org.ukSep 12, 2026, 1:19 PM

“Glasgow is a magnificent city,” said McAlpin. “Why do we hardly ever notice that?”
“Because nobody imagines living here,” said Thaw […] “if a city hasn’t been used by an artist, not even the inhabitants live there imaginatively.”
#BookWormSat #Booksky 💙📚
www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2026/06/alas...

Book cover LANARK A LIFE IN 4 BOOKS "An ambitious and marvellously inventive novel" – Malcolm Bradbury ALASDAIR GRAY Publisher: Paladin The artwork by Alasdair Gray – in black and white, with golden clouds – depicts a figurative State towering over a panoramic view across Scotland, looking from west to east. The figure is bearded, masculine, blank-eyed, and wears a crown. It holds a sword in its right hand, labelled "FORCE", and a crozier in its left hand, labelled "persuasion". Apart from the hands and face the giant figure is formed from little people: a ring of wigged judges around its throat, bowler-hatted men with pointing arms giving orders across its chest and shoulders, a teeming mass of faceless individuals making up its torso. Its left arm consists of kneeling worshippers and open-mouthed preachers; its right is a phalanx of marching soldiers. Scotland, curved and distorted, is spread out beneath and in front of the figure. Discernible landmarks include Glasgow University tower; John Knox’s statue in the Glasgow Necropolis; the Wallace Monument; the Grangemouth oil refinery; St Giles Cathedral; Edinburgh Castle; the Forth & Tay bridges; & the experimental fast-breeder nuclear reactor at Dounreay. Also visible are oil rigs in the North Sea, nuclear submarines in the Irish Sea & Holy Loch, & the paddle-steamer PS Waverley sailing down the Clyde.