from the introduction to emily wilsons translation of the iliad
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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@burningdisarm
from the introduction to emily wilsons translation of the iliad
can i get a kiss in 2024… one good movie kiss perhaps
yeah sorry that’s a load bearing green neck ribbon. it’s up to you boss i mean take it off if you want but it’s very much a structural necessity.
“no grave can hold my body down i’ll crawl home to her” yeah sure when it’s about romance it’s obsessive and not super healthy however have you considered it’s actually about friendship and it’s about [name redacted for privacy] to me. that’s what i thought
how about "the love of my life" but in a nonromantic way
when youre a kid learning the word "penultimate" is like a drug
sssssoupsssss
Richard Blades
sometimes you have to choose the neural pathway less traveled in your brain
A compilation
a lot of you know me for the "my psychiatrist asks me about friendship & i tell him about distance" excerpt but its been almost a year since i wrote it & the whole piece still resonates so i thought id share (x)
HAMMOND B3 ORGAN CISTERN by GABRIELLE CALVOCORESSI
[text ID: The days I don’t want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the
stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on,
Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose
not today, Satan.
Every day wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
/end text ID.]
one of the greatest tragedies in life is that you will always be loved more than you will ever know. someone in class finds your presence inviting and warm, even if you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with them—maybe none at all. someone on the street loves your smile and it gets them down the next few streets. someone you used to be friends with still wishes to fondly call your name. someone you used to be friends with five years ago would give anything to be in the same room as you today. someone who regularly comes into work is disappointed when you aren’t there to brighten their day. someone missed you today. someone noticed you were gone. someone loves you when you’re there; someone loves you when you’re nowhere to be found at all. you think you have always disappeared when you’re no longer in the picture, but you’ve never left the frame.
bro are you okay you reblogged the post about being loved fifteen times again
december……
this book is craaazy looking at yourself in a moment of disaster going wow she’s acting so well within this disaster this is so good for the film