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The Sorrow Festival, Erin Slaughter

#erin slaughter #w #char: sarai

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Our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.

Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor (via quotespile)

#w #chuck palahniuk #verse: orpheus

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#monster theory

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Lowlife Princess

#me mai #char: rin

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ancient future sterling silver latiaxis earrings

#fashion

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I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.

#verse: orpheus

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reblog to bonk the person you reblogged it from with a hollow cardboard tube

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She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.

Angela Carter, The Lady of the House of Love (The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories)

#angela carter #char: sarai #w

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haunting can take so many forms. the word itself a vast, domed space. a contained space. haunt. begins with a voiceless consonant that starts at the back of the throat; allows for one short, voiced vowel: the kind of surprised ah exhalation you make when the air gets knocked out of you; ends sharply with another voiceless consonant, all teeth now. i want to talk about haunting as voicelessness, as sound, as the rooms which contain sound.

there are rooms that are alive. like a marble cathedral. cold and resonant, producing ghosts that come back to you again and again and again, ever softer and more distorted until they no longer resemble the living sound that created them. they take on a life of their own. and rooms that are dead. like a house. low ceilings and carpeted floors. a house like that absorbs sound so that everything is dead from the moment it takes shape. like an anechoic chamber.

haunting as sound; haunting as that which contains sound; finally, haunting as that which is the absence of sound. like an exit wound. clean. through and through. like a hole in the story, in your memory, in the ceiling of the room. you can see the sky through it. or on it.

the sound that never lived and died in your throat, and so continues to never live and never die. the absence of sound and its mirror: the potential of sound. the what if of sound, the never of sound. now your body is the room and the sound and the absence of sound.

#the opposite of a haunting is something very lonely

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what did jesus do?, adam gopnik // archeology, myriam fraga (trans. chloe hill) // sacrifice: a problem for theology, simone weil // amor fati, ruth awad // xx, alex lemon // the secret history, donna tartt // music from a burning piano, traci brimhall // her body and other parties, carmen maria machado // eating snake, margaret atwood // saturday night special, natasha oladokun.

#comp #all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time

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spring 2023: still life

mitski (pink in the night), kathy beekman, nayirrah waheed, alejandra pizarnik, kim cogan, emily palermo, felix vallotton, tatheve, sylvia plath, leonardo cremonini, nicole krauss, anaïs nin, c. michael dudash, mitski (last words of a shooting star)

buy me a coffee

#comp #godhood is like girlhood: a begging to be believed #char: sarai

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Headless John The Baptist Hitchhiking, C.T. Salazar

#orpheus: ariadne #c.t. salazar

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what emotion do you guys write from? like sikens is panic. mary olivers hope. what is yours?

#longing #me mai

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Bone, Yrsa Daley-Ward

#yrsa daley ward #w #char: sarai

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I’m sorry!!! I’m sorry that we can’t go back!!! And for all the things we can’t remember. But I’m glad we did it!! The love will always be there!

#verse: orpheus

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reblog to give a strawberry to the person you reblogged this from

#<3 heeh ily

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D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover

#verse: orpheus #d. h. lawrence