.

this is a blog about nothing

[misssleepy]

Winter mornings are made of steel; they have a metallic taste and sharp edges. On a Wednesday in January, at seven in the morning, it’s plain to see that the world was not made for Man, and definitely not for his comfort or pleasure.

— Olga Tokarczuk

[untalented-but-opinionated]

Books I Loved In 2025: Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

The psyche is our defense system - it makes sure we'll never understand what's going on around us. Its main task is to filter information, even though the capabilities of our brains are enormous. For it would be impossible for us to carry the weight of this knowledge. Because every tiny particle of the world is made of suffering.

[quotespile]

“How wonderful – to translate from one language to another, and by so doing to bring people closer to one another – what a beautiful idea.”

— Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead

[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

A friend stopped by

[misericordiia]

wound dressings and bandages are lingerie for the enlightened pervert

[charlottan]

i just feel strongly that work shouldnt be the Main Activity of five days out of the week

[blushiscool]

Grape Earrings at Yuhan Wang’s MA Central Saint Martins graduate collection

[apocryphics]

Simone Weil

[firstfullmoon]

Robert Wood Lynn, “There is Only One Ocean”

[valtsv]

AITA for realizing that my best friend is actually a ghost and not telling him because i'm worried that if he realizes he's dead he'll finally be able to accept it and fully pass on and i won't be able to hang out with him anymore?

[valtsv]

AITA if i've been dead for a while but haven't told my best friend yet because he doesn't seem to have realized i'm a ghost and if he does i'm worried that he'll finally be able to accept it and let me go and i can't bear the thought of losing him?

[mapswithoutwyoming]

AITA for killing that guy

[warrior-of-storms]

Very stupid that I can't take the muscles out of my neck & upper back & beat them with a meat tenderizer. I think that would fix me

[apocryphics]

[beingharsh]

It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one's sanity becomes an object of speculation among one's acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

"On Self-Respect", Joan Didion

[rimonoroni2]

my general opinion on what people should be "allowed" to portray and what topics they should be "allowed" to explore in fiction is that you can make whatever art with whatever themes you want but i'm also allowed to think the way you handled it was tasteless and should've been done differently. my negative opinion on your handling of sensitive topics is the price of admission for publicly showcasing your work. this is not a pro-censorship stance because i am not The Government

[rimonoroni2]

this is getting really popular so i’d like to add the important caveat that your criticism of a work is no more unassailable than the work itself. just as one is entitled to be critical of something someone else is entitled to disagree with that criticism. i add this because some of you pretend to give a fuck about thoughtful analysis and then when someone points out flaws in your argument you declare that all criticisms are valid. this is untrue. the status of a hater is no more sacred than that of a liker. get off your high horse and engage in the thoughtful discussion you pretend to believe in or perish by my blade

[thekidsarentalright]

when a songs lyrics use repetition to signify growing desperation and emotion that additional words wouldnt be able to convey

[ravioliet]

god's weakest soldier is scrolling tumblr instead of being productive or participating in any of their hobbies

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, from “Culpable”, Instructions for Traveling West