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THE BEAR  |  2.03

I think when I was a kid, anything that would give me any sort of excitement or amusement or enjoyment, it always got kinda f*cked. You know, I don’t think my family meant to ruin it or anything like that, you know. I don’t think they did it on purpose. But I think… Sometimes they just, they try too hard. You know, or they’d make promises that they weren’t able to keep.

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Maroesjka Lavigne

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Ada Limón, from "To the Busted Among Us", Sharks in the Rivers

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Ada Limón, from "To the Busted Among Us", Sharks in the Rivers

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I love the dead because we cannot let each other down anymore.

Hanif Abdurraqib, There's Always This Year

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snoopy of the day

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the world is a better place with trans women in it

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Anne Carson, from Autobiography of Red

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Carl Sandburg, from “Under the Harvest Moon,” in Chicago Poems

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Anna Kamienska, translated by Clare Cavanagh, from A Nest of Quiet: Notebooks

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"One of Us", Paruyr Sevak (translated by metamorphesque)

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In my quiet in my bedroom in my on my own. Where there’s a mirror that is empty. Where there’s a worn out pair of pants. Where my shoes lie turned over. Where hairs are knot and fall behind the radiator. Where the smell of empty spreads out across the air.

Eimear McBride, A girl is a half-formed thing

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a mythology can ask why is autumn so beautiful and why is winter, blight-stricken as it is, so arresting? a mythology, as opposed to a young person, can find autumn and winter much more striking than summer, sun-bleached summer, so legibly the scene of happiness that nothing else can really happen there. a mythology can see the blood in spring, the stages of growth a kind of violence the body does to itself, it will never be this way again yet it can’t get on to the next moment fast enough. a mythology can ask why does spring throw its arms out with abandon even when it’s abandoning itself? a mythology can ask why is winter so much greener than spring, even clouded in white?

— Evie Schockley, from “ex patria”

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Shape-shifting is one of fairy tale’s dominant and characteristic wonders: hands are cut off, found and reattached, babies’ throats are slit, but they are later restored to life, a rusty lamp turns into an all-powerful talisman, a humble pestle and mortar becomes the winged vehicle of the fairy enchantress Baba Yaga, the beggar changes into the powerful enchantress and the slattern in the filthy donkeyskin into a golden-haired princess. More so than the presence of fairies, the moral function, the imagined antiquity and oral anonymity of the ultimate source, and the happy ending (though all these factors help towards a definition of the genre), metamorphosis defines the fairy tale.

—Marina Warner, From the Beast to the Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers