ietsoxgyenthief

[ietsoxgyenthief]

Instagram credit: co.nfused

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listening to viva la vida is such a visceral experience. you were jamming in bed? not anymore. now you’re standing among masses of scorned revolutionaries. the executioner’s song is blaring and a monarch is dragged under the axe. his laments sound alongside the fierce march of his people. his final words are lost under a sea of protests. the stars start falling with the violins’ crescendo, and life, death, war, and restoration coalesce.

there’s an ache in your chest but it fades with the silence. suddenly, you’re back in bed, and the next song from your playlist starts up. it’s like time never stopped. 

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via

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those summer nights

seem long ago

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i can’t get over how HUGE this man is

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As Goncharov lies bleeding out, his last memory is that of a clandestine meeting with Andrey, several decades ago. Both of them use aliases for this - Goncharov introduces himself as Rasmus Lofvgren, and Andrey as Felix Strauss. In long overcoats and felt fedora hats, the two meet at nighttime in a park overlooking the city. Andrey looks young and unburdened, and Goncharov greets him warmly like an old friend. They hug, they laugh, and make small talk, like they’ve been doing it for years and will do so for years more.

Then as their conversation fades, there is a gesture of sudden and unexpected intimacy. The two men still, turn to eachother and Goncharov lights Andrey’s cigarette with the fire from his own. He cradles Andrey’s face with shocking tenderness that speaks of a casual familiarity and Andrey leans into the touch, almost indulgent. There is a moment of tension between them before Andrey looks down, uncharacteristically coy. The camera lingers as they stare at eachother for a few seconds before turning away. As they turn towards the glittering city that will doom them, we fade back to a dying Goncharov.

The nature of the scene is intentionally ambiguous— Andrey has only known Goncharov a few months, so chronologically, it’s out of place. Is it a false memory, a hallucination, or the wish fulfilment of a dying man?

Further examination shows another layer. Goncharov’s chosen alias was that of an actor best known for playing a time traveller, a low-budget sci-fi show whose key theme was defying your destiny. Andrey’s was that of a thespian who was playing a London National Theatre post-modernist production of Odysseus at the time. They are pretending to be other people, who pretend to be other people — actors whose characters escape their tragedy, from stories that defy fate. As if, in telling himself a story where tragic characters can escape, Goncharov puts himself in a story where he, too, can survive.

But the story is already over and nothing can be changed. Goncharov dies a lonely, desolate man, having alienated everyone who cares for him and the last act of tenderness we see him commit never even happened.

—Francine Rubek, Violent Delights, Violent Ends: On Queer Readings of Masculine Tragedy (2003, Oxford University Press)

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For those who read both

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Confide in me, and watch how I turn your every sorrow into incandescent poetry.

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donna tartt: literally writes an entire 600 page book about how it can be dangerous to do things just for the aesthetic

us, already making pinterest boards: oh to be a classics student in vermont in the 80s drinking whiskey from a teacup and occasionally murdering people 

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Blue skies

they turn to grey

Black sunsets in your eyes,

am I dreaming?

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something wicked this way comes

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The Reincarnation of Peter Proud (1975)

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