I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter
7K notes
·
View notes
I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter//Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken
3K notes
·
View notes
blood is thicker than water is thicker than poison
erin slaughter the sorrow festival \\ aleksandra waliszewska untitled (2021) \\ rachel mckibbens blud (via @geryone) \\ gerhard grossberger bad boy \\ lyn hejinian my life and my life the nineties: “it seemed that we had hardly begun and we were already there” \\ aleksandra waliszewska untitled (2022)
kofi
556 notes
·
View notes
Hi, I’m not sure if you take requests but I really enjoy your page :)) I was wondering if you could do a post on glass children / middle kids / the unloved child?
blood runs thicker than water but both feel the same when your eyes are closed
i hope you're doing okay <33
Gillian Flynn Dark Places / Erin Slaughter The Sorrow Festival / unknown / Maia Baia / Dan Pagis Autobiography / Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When the Rapture Comes / unknown
316 notes
·
View notes
Erin Slaughter in Split Lip Magazine (2019)
6 notes
·
View notes
fjord, campaign 2, ep 72 / the sorrow festival by erin slaughter
24 notes
·
View notes
I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter
11K notes
·
View notes
Yesterday. We blazed across the midlands, burning through every decaying town in our path, sweeping through cities made of glass, lights clustered behind us in the distance. The Chevy roared, devouring miles in fistfuls. We cranked the windows down by hand, blared "Going to Georgia" so loud that fifteen miles away they could feel the chords pumping through their veins. Half the country passed in a blur of melting starlight embedded across the sky.
More than a place, we were escaping lives that felt at once unbearably short and long, lives with no room for being alive inside them. Now, asphalt over Nashville, I was watching all of that crumble. I was seeing the murky red future flatten itself like a canvas, the landscape bleeding from mountain to mossy grave, the star-spangled heartstring of the stretching road. We were singing the Mountain Goats as the past burned in the rearview.
What I remember most was Zell, knuckles white on the steering wheel, hair in a flurry, dark-brown eyes lit ablaze. Screaming to the song at the top of our lungs, what I remember thinking is this: I hope we fucking crash, I hope we die, I hope it's messy and unavoidable, our flesh and bones mangled together for all eternity. Because nothing will ever be more exactly right than this—alive, electric. Free.
—Erin Slaughter, from "Anywhere" (A Manual for How to Love Us, Harper Perennial, 2023)
4 notes
·
View notes