One of the recurring philosophical questions is:
"Does a falling tree in the forest make a sound when there is no one to hear?"
Which says something about the nature of philosophers, because there is always someone in a forest. It may only be a badger, wondering what that cracking noise was, or a squirrel a bit puzzled by all the scenery going upwards, but someone. At the very least, if it was deep enough in the forest, millions of small gods would have heard it.
Things just happen, one after another. They don't care who knows. But history...ah, history is different. History has to be observed. Otherwise it's not history. It's just...well, things happening one after another.
Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
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I will never be over Leo’s 4D chess play in “Many Unhappy Returns”. Like, just in general it is a spectacle to see this character who we’ve seen goofing around time and time again, who’s only sometimes decided to take things seriously, only to show him making a maneuver like that.
And here’s what gets me the most about his plan against Big Mama: he comes up with it on the spot. The second he sees that Big Mama has the solution they need, he’s already in game mode.
It is so satisfying watching the episode back when you realize his plan, because he literally sets the stage entirely for a decisive victory. He sees that the champion is a kraken, and comes up with both the solution to defeating it and a reasonable excuse to get that solution into the battle with them on the fly:
“Like your champ aaand those six guys. In fact, we don’t want this over too quickly. You should armor up those rookies. The whole shebang. Especially with these pointy helmets.”
And this is why giving him teleportation powers is perfect, too. He analyzes the battlefield and makes use of all the assets, moving pieces around to guarantee a win. It is honestly so impressive to witness and one of my favorite parts of his character.
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on storytelling and repetition
“...the secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again.”
— Arundhati Roy on Indian mythology and folklore, in God of Small Things (1997)
“It was only once – once – that an audience went to see Romeo and Juliet, and hoped they might live happily ever after. You can bet that the word soon went around the playhouses: they don’t get out of that tomb alive. But every time it’s been played, every night, every show, we stand with Romeo at the Capulets’ monument. We know: when he breaks into the tomb, he will see Juliet asleep, and believe she is dead. We know he will be dead himself before he knows better. But every time, we are on the edge of our seats, holding out our knowledge like a present we can’t give him.”
— Hilary Mantel on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, in “Can These Bones Live?”, Reith Lecture, 2017
“So what makes this poem mnemonic is not just repetition. Rather, it’s the fact that with repetition, the repeated phrase grows more and more questionable. I’ve remembered “Come on now, boys” because, with every new repetition, it seems to offer more exasperation than encouragement, more doubt than assertion. I remembered this refrain because it kept me wondering about what it meant, which is to say, it kept me wondering about the kind of future it predicted. What is mnemonic about this repetition is not the reader’s ability to remember it, but that the phrase itself remembers something about the people it addresses; it remembers violence. Repetition, then, is not only a demonstration of something that keeps recurring: an endless supply of new generations of cruel boys with sweaty fists. It is also about our inability to stop this repetition: the established cycles of repetition are like spells and there’s no anti-spell to stop them from happening. The more we repeat, the less power we have over the words and the more power the words have over us. Poetic repetition is about the potency of language and the impotence of its speakers. In our care, language is futile and change is impossible.”
— Valzhyna Mort on Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, in “FACE – FACE – FACE: A Poet Under the Spell of Loss”, The Poetry Society Annual Lecture, 2021
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this is bc imma be a very personal rant and if anyone tries to bring discourse i Will kill but god being aromantic and still feeling romantic attraction at times is so alienating. i’m too aromantic for allo people but too “allo” for aromantic people. every post and in-joke about aromanticism is always about disliking romance and being better alone and i can’t relate to any of it. 90% of the time the sentiment of “aromantic people can still date though!!” is shared by allos erasing aro rep for the sake of a ship. i’m so tired.
(okay to reblog as long as you don’t try to start discourse btw)
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