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bohemiancassidy · 3 years

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A Beginner’s Guide to Dark Academia

tips for the baby aesthete’s out there

academia

actually study! study the things you love, the things you like, the things you know nothing about — the pursuit of knowledge lasts a lifetime, and there is so much to learn

visit your professor’s office hours! it always helps to make yourself known to your teachers (i’ve been given grade bumps and had great conversations with my university lecturers)

avoid and check yourself for the pretension that can often accompany academia — it hurts no one to be kind and mindful

delve into the realm of philosophy (for starters: metaphysics, epistemology, aesthetics) it will broaden your mind

stay late at your university library studying (if you can do so safely, preferably with a friend). university campuses feel magical in the evening

style

wear darker, muted colours

plaid coats, pants, or skirts

button-up shirts (Peter Pan collars are a bonus)

turtlenecks

tie your hair with a bow

accessorise! a vintage watch adds sophistication to any outfit. try wearing it with a ring or three

practice good posture — standing tall creates an air of elegance, confidence, and if paired with the right amount of nonchalance, mystery

media

films

dead poets society

cracks

the dreamers

thoroughbreds

breathless (à bout de souffle)

cléo from 5 to 7 (cléo de 5 à 7)

handsome devil

tv shows

gilmore girls

chilling adventures of sabrina

black mirror

the good place

the politician

books

the secret history

the picture of dorian gray

the goldfinch

the line of beauty

persuasion

the collected poems of oscar wilde

ovid’s metamorphoses

music

listen to classical music as you sleep/read/study

https://open.spotify.com/user/heygooddayilia/playlist/0sz3BMkJeOf6qelBe4G0dV?si=XFTsmv_9TgCSH-Mk2WI_Tg

aesthetic activities (think of this as a little checklist to get you underway as a fledgling aesthete)

make yourself tea in pretty teacups (you can find plenty in secondhand stores!)

light candles in your bedroom, and read by candlelight

dry flowers for your room/desk

explore secondhand bookstores for old, pretty editions of novels you may or may not have heard of

give handwritten letters to your lovers/friends/yourself

join a secret society

wake up before the sun rises to watch dawn break

brood during a thunderstorm, and write extravagant, flowery poetry on parchment

exist in the real, with your books and art, and your turtlenecks and plaid coats, as a mystery. social media can give too much of you away

host an unceasing bacchanal for you and your pals

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bohemiancassidy · 3 years

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if you liked sherlock you like dark academia now

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bohemiancassidy · 3 years

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My Top 10 favourite movie’s of all time…

(The post that no one asked for, but you’re getting anyway)

10. Barbarella (1968)

A cult classic staring Jane Fonda as the sexy traveller from earth, on a mission to find the scientist known as Durand Durand. Honestly this film is amazing and so before it’s time. It has a blind Angel, a sexy evil queen, and a death sex machine! Its so 80s…yet in the late 60s! Seriously Jane Fonda is such an amazing human whether it’s in this or something current like Grace and frankie. She’s reason enough to watch this crazy film.

9. To wong foo (1995)

Okay but Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes in Drag? Yes please. It’s unlike any other drag film I know, especially with straight male leads. It deals with so many serious issues such as homophobia, domestic abuse, transphobia and sexism. It’s hilarious and drag is shown in such a true and positive light. Swayze, Snipes and Leguizamo did their research and portrayed the role of a drag queen perfectly. (Rupaul, Miss Coco Peru, Lady Bunny, Candis Cayne and Quentin Crisp all make an appearance)

8. Death Becomes Her (1992)

This film is another cult classic (you’ll hear that a lot, sorry) staring Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn and Bruce Willis (with hair wow) Who wouldn’t want to stay young forever? It’s campy, creepy and hilarious. There’s so many iconic scenes filled with superb acting, and the love hate relationship between Madeline (Meryl) and Helen (Goldie) is amazing.

7. The Lost Boys (1987)

This film is everything I love combined into one. 80s punk vampires? Yes. It’s so 80s filled with the music, the fashion the hair it’s wonderful. A badass gang of punk vampires lead by the gorgeous Kiefer Sutherland vs Corey Haim and Corey Feldman (the two Corey’s of the 80s) it’s just an absolute masterpiece.

6. Beetlejuice (1988)

Tim Burton is by far my Favourite Director and Writer for film. His movies are what shaped me as a human (human?) Beetlejuice will always have a place in my heart, it’s dark funny and so twisted, Tim Burton creates this other world not unlike our own. Just exaggerated. I think everyone loves Winona Ryder as a melodramatic edgy teen yearning to be apart of the land of those who are recently deceased. The use of the Banana boat song is still one of the best scenes in cinema history.

5. Treasure Planet (2002)

Okay yes, don’t judge me for having an animated film on the list because this film was literally my childhood. Treasure island…but in space! How is that not amazing? Emma Thompson is a humanoid British Cat captain…again another reason it’s the best Disney film of all time. It’s so heartwarming and features some really serious stuff, it’s classic Disney. I highly recommend this no matter your age.

4. Labyrinth (1986)

David Bowie and his glittery crotch of doom. Another 80s masterpiece (can you tell it’s my favourite era?) The music in this movie is superb and the characters created by Jim Henson are amazing. Everything about this movie is magical from the puppetry to David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly’s performance. The ballroom scene takes my breath away every single time, it’s so romantic yet dark since Jareth is trying to distract Sarah so he may keep her as his queen (Honestly seems like a good deal) My heart does ache a little more since Bowie’s passing but atleast he has such a large legacy left behind.

3. The Rocky horror picture show (1975)

A real cult classic, and huge staple for the LGBTQ+ community. I first watched this film at 10 or 11 (probably too young oops) and it immediately became an obsession. This film is part of the reason I’m proud to be who I am today, it gave me so much confidence and pride in being weird or different. Tim Curry is utterly amazing, he is sexy, crazy and talented. Don’t even get me started on it’s soundtrack, Richard O'Brien is so clever. Using references from other classics such as forbidden planet, king Kong and flash Gordon. Honestly this film started my love of musical theatre and Drag.

2. Sweeney Todd (2007)

Tim Burton appears once again. This film combines my two favourite genre’s, horror and musicals. It takes the story from an old Victorian Penny Dreadful of the barber who kills his clients and the baker, who’s desperately inlove with him. Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter bounce off eachother so well in every film they do together, Sweeney Todd is no exception. It’s dark, funny and poetically tragic. The score by Stephen Sondheim is amazing and so well written it makes the film what it is.

1. The Silence of the lambs (1991)

A true cinematic masterpiece. Everything about this movie is perfection, not only is it my favourite film, it is also my favourite book. The casting of Sir Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter and Jodie foster as Clarice Starling was pure genius. The chemistry between them is almost frightening as if we are truly watching an interview of a well educated killer, by a green southern FBI agent in training. The camera work, the soundtrack, the lighting, everything was so well thought out throughout the entire film. It’s one I could watch over and over again.

If anybody actually read this then thank you…

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bohemiancassidy · 3 years

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David Bowie about Jareth.

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bohemiancassidy · 3 years

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Your boyfriend wishes he could, but he can’t even.

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bohemiancassidy · 4 years

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aspects of the hannibal books that should have been put in the tv show:

- hannibal bleaching his hair blonde

- the fact that there’s an fbi agent named “graham” but also an agent named “gramm”

- doctor chilton being called “doctor fuck face”

- hannibal being called “dumb shit”

- hannibal owning a copy of “joy of cooking,” the bastard

- will remarking offhand that “lecter was very hot”

- dolarhyde talking to reba and internally reflecting “this was Having A Conversation” (yes it’s capitalised like that)

- hannibal writing will a christmas card

- will hoping freddy lounds (who’s a man in the book) will straight-up die of third degree burns so will doesn’t have to talk to him

- will picking up the phone and saying “hello hotlips,” thinking it’s molly, but it’s actually some random dude helping with the dolarhyde investigation

aspects of the hannibal books that im glad were not put in the tv show:

- will looking at a corpse and saying “she had pretty feet”

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bohemiancassidy · 4 years

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Atlas: Year One by Sleeping At Last

WARNING: LONG POST

I decided to sit and listen to my favourite songs from the Atlas: Year One album by Sleeping At Last and see if I could cure my writers block. A whole bunch of random memories came flooding back and so I just went with it and wrote them down as the songs played. I just needed to dump this somewhere. So here it is:

I press play. I lay back. I close my eyes. It floods in. A slideshow of memories I forgot I had. I often ponder the reasoning behind what our minds allow us to remember. Why this? This little snippet, this miniscule detail, this seemingly insignificant moment - why is it small enough to overlook yet large enough that of all the moments I've had, I remember this clearly? How come, when I try to remember, it escapes me, yet in the middle of the most random day at the most seemingly pointless times, it comes back? A cacophonous kaleidoscope of colour and texture so real it sends me staggering, so brief it leaves me breathless.

EARTH

My father's Uncle Jamarah. I remember so clearly his visit, arriving late in the night from the bus station with his wife. Sitting on the floor at the edge of my bed as they unpacked and got themselves ready to sleep, how he smiled so softly, so sweetly. His eyes weary and tired from travel but still patient and inviting despite the multitude of questions I had asked. His tanned skin contrasted against and framed by my bright green bedroom walls with the obnoxious blue stars painted along them. I lay awake in my mother's bed that night, after forfeiting my own, and mulled over the bandage at the base of old Uncle Jamarah's neck - where his collarbones collided - and how, only later in life, when I was old enough to understand, long after he had passed, that it was cancer he had.

MOON

My uncle Kevin, my Dad's twin, building a makeshift fort for my best friend and I, despite being heavily drunk that night. He was always drunk, but he was always happy. He was always kind. I always felt loved in his presence. We stood at the door, giddy with excitement, waiting impatiently while he described to us the fundamentals of any decent pillow fort for a sleep over. That evening he kissed me goodnight and I slept soundly beside my best friend - her in her bright pink pajamas, me in my bright blue - and dreamt of nothing.

MARS

The drive from my small town to a slightly less small town with a name I can't remember to an animal farm I can still smell. The pollen in the air and the otherworldly flowers that sourced it. The perfect blend of blue and white in the sky, rolling hills and distant grunts of horses, sheep, pigs. I remember the air. How strange. I know that air too well, I know the feeling of it on my skin and in my lungs and through my hair. How it made my hands feel, how it made the sun almost obsolete. I know that air now, so well, so perfectly. A kind of air I can't place nor can I describe just right, just enough to do it justice. You know this air, too, I'm sure. I know you do. The kind of air that you feel maybe once a year, if that much. The kind of air that you don't have at home, that you miss when you leave it, that both unsettles and calms you. You wonder if that air really feels that way, or if it feels that way because of something inside you. Something that only breathes when you are surrounded by that air. Something that only wakes when your lungs are saturated in it.

JUPITER

So much of my life skips by in little fragments. Devoid of chronology, devoid of reason. Faster now. My grandmother's hair, smoothed back in bright butterfly clips. I did that for her. She loved when I did that for her.

"You look like a secretary, Ma!" My uncle laughed. That day I decided I would call my mother "Ma", like she and her brother and sister called theirs. Insignificant, unexceptional and totally not special, yet my mind remembers. It remembers the moment, it remembers the day, but remembers not the reason behind it or the logic it took to come to that conclusion.

SATURN

I recall a neglected toffee apple, stuck to the glass of the fridge tray. I see a patch of grass beneath a tree at the far edge of my best friend's complex and the black jacks that would collect at the edges of my pants. How dark the classroom seemed in the middle of the day, during a rainstorm, almost as if we were learning at midnight. Laying in bed when the cupboard handles morphed into snakes and worms and the bright orange light from outside poured in through the window collected into one neat patch against the wall beside the bed and inside it I saw tribes gathered around a fire dancing with their pitchforks and heard their chanting in my mind. The pink poncho I wore to school each day in pre-primary and the little yellow roll-on lipgloss I had with crystal clear gel and a perfect yellow flower within. The day we married my best friend's dog to her little sister, the countless times we would play Barbie's and how it carried on into our teens.

URANUS

The bunnies in the corner of the pre-primary playground and how we'd all wrestle to be chosen to feed them. The day I scraped my face against the pavement after falling off my bicycle at full speed during a friendly race with the kids in my best friend's complex. The trees on my grandmother's street in each season, covered in flowers of the most peculiar shade of pink then barren and cold yet still comforting because Love lived on that street; my grandmother lived on that street. Visits to Mitchell's Park and the raccoons, the birds, the fish, my grandmother and great grandmother. My grandfather reading me stories when I slept over, the colours on the page and the brass bracelet on his wrist. The Dracula film playing in my granny's teeny tiny living room, a version I couldn't take my eyes off of and have yet to find anywhere again except in this memory. Her little hands and her bright skin. How she prayed at the edge of her bed each night and would yell at characters in horror films, standing behind the couch. My father fetching me from school each day and taking me for hot chocolate at the mall, every afternoon without fail, listening to Dr. Victor and the Rasta Rebels in his Tazz and his black uniform with its red trimmings.

NEPTUNE

A seedy motel stop on our way to Cape Town to visit family. The graffiti on the wall and the streetlights against the greasy windows. The first time I went to a museum with my mother and sister and friend. The displays somehow a perfect balance between fascinating and underwhelming all at once. My first time ice-skating, how my uncle skated behind me the entire time, holding me up, the smell of metal against ice. The local carnival and the lights, how it all felt so dim and brilliant at once, the smell of wet grass and oil, standing in that perfect space between the carnival and the drinking tent where the music from both blended so uneasily together in a way that made my teeth chatter though I couldn't walk away. It was too odd, too strange for me to not enjoy it. My mother convincing me she can freeze people with her emerald ring and proving this to me by pausing my aunt mid sentence, her face blank and body still while I poked and prodded and giggled until finally my mother unfroze her. The day I met my closest friend and how it never occurred to me that we could possibly be as close as we are now, and how deeply and richly she lightened my life in a way words cannot express.

PLUTO

Finally, when I almost can't bring myself to think anymore, I open my eyes. My eyelashes damp and my chest uncomfortably warm. Slowly it all forms this insanely massive and never ending mosaic of all these redundant and possibly useless moments that have made up every little iota of what and who I am. This unfathomable blend between the smallest details that built up the mass of a person I am now, and the lack of knowledge behind why? Why these things? Perhaps there's no formula. And I feel simultaneously light and lead, my heart swelling and growing and pulsing inside my chest until it eclipses every other organ inside me and eventually swallows me and I can't help but cry and smile and laugh at the ridiculousness of how deep within myself I've gone and how it has just only now occured to me that maybe, just maybe, this entire practice itself was useless despite how elated and warm I feel from it. I see my life in its simplest moments, the moments one wouldn't believe to characterise their existence, the moments you'd cut when editing a film. I see the B-roll of my life and it is beautiful and empowering and I long for those moments again and every single thing about them seems to make all the sense and none of it. And nothing in this moment feels real while I'm spiralling like this. It's just a mess of moments and and patterns and sunlight between trees and tires on tar, hot heads against cool pillows or sounds with no meaning.

And I'm heavy with joy and pain and appreciation for this simple little life I've lead that I can't bare to imagine any differently. I see my father's face and his eyes and his smile and I recognise how the very sight of him rakes at my heart because I cannot begin to comprehend the love I have for him and how it terrifies me that there is a love that exists like that, so large and so bright it hurts how good it feels. I see his hands and his crows feet and his hair and I see myself in his features. I see my mother's face, and I sink further into a domain of true and unbridled love I hadn't imagined could go any further and yet it does. Shifting and shaping and taking the form of the woman who built me and homed me and crafted me and each part of my body aches in the most beautiful way at the thought of being a product of a woman so real and raw and soft. Every little hair on her head and pigment in her eyes reminds me of the feeling of witnessing an angel. She is an angel. And he is an angel. And I am so brilliantly comprised of all that makes them who they are and one day I will bring into this world someone who is half of me and half of my love and who will go on to be entirely themselves and how I wish I can give to them all that my parents have given to me and still more. And then I see my sister's face the day she was born and I can't help but weap for this insane amount of love, this pure and unadulterated love I feel for her. For her curls and her voice and how acutely aware I am of how I've spent years hurting her in ways I never recognised and how desperately I wish I could take that all back. Her little face and her funny laugh and how she is exactly like me in design but so very, completely different. So much so she is almost opposite. And I cry harder knowing that there isn't a single day I can get back with her, not a single word or action I can absolve and that starts a fire in me to see her grow into this entity of her own and hope that from here on out I can say I had a small role to play in the powerhouse she will no doubt become and that that role was good. I am dumbfounded at how much of my heart belongs with her, belongs with all of them, with all of these people and all of these moments and more. How every little piece of these things have arranged themselves within me and how I have left a little part of myself within them in exchange. And I am so thankful.

#poetry #rant #poems #poems porn #my poems #love poems #poems on tumblr #writers block #writer #love #life #appreciation #existential #idk man #I just got super in my feels #had to dump this here

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