desire is a moment with no way out

dil | 22 | any pronouns

[theythembobdylan]

this is my one wild and precious life fucckkkkkkk fuckkkkkk fucckcckkkkkkk

[cinemapix]

In a way, it's rather sweet.

[rustlambs]

once again showing off my typewriter teapot

[fdblaize]

kudos to merlin for not using any memory altering spells and just rawdogging gaslighting for the love of the game

[kabaks]

Maya Angelou: When you leave your house in France, and come to the United States -- when you leave your adopted home and come to your real home, what kind of response do you have, inside yourself?

James Baldwin: I miss my family. I miss uh...a lot of people, you know, who are part of me. You know?

Angelou: Keep you alive. Yes.

Baldwin: And a certain kind of speed, energy, beat -- which only Americans, only American Black people, have. Y'know? I miss that. When you say my home, it's not exactly my home. It's a kind of asylum. It's a place where I can work. I have a lot of work to do. And...if you are in a situation where you're always resisting and resenting, it's very hard to...

Angelou: Takes too much energy.

Baldwin: Well, you can't write a book.

Angelou: No.

Baldwin: You can't write a sentence. I asked my brother David -- we were driving through, we were driving in Harlem, I was in Harlem, I was living there -- And I said to him, I said, I wonder what would have happened to me if I had stayed? And you know David.

Angelou: I know David.

Baldwin: Cause, y'know, I also wanted to stay. I didn't wanna go. David laughed. That laugh.

Angelou: Terrible, knowing laugh.

Baldwin: He said, You'd be dead, everybody else is.

-- Maya Angelou & James Baldwin in Conversation

[micromontage]

his face when he wants the unspeakable

[metamorphesque]

the walls that housed Anna Akhmatova

[ilynpilled]

[metamorphesque]

[foursaints]

kept secretly imprisoned under lock & key in his decaying ancestral home

traded places with beloved dead mother; lives on in her image

turboincestuously megaraped

dedicates all of the remainder of his life to a dramatic & symbolically rich revenge plot that succeeds but culminates in his own spiritual destruction

is barty crouch jr basically just the archetypal gothic hero/ine. discuss

[givemearmstopraywith]

online library so far:

margaret atwood

the brontës (the complete works is a MASSIVE file fyi)

anne carson

hélène cixous

bell hooks

clarice lispector

audre lorde

virginia woolf

compilations

feminist theory

academic writing (both books and articles)

everything here is in pdf format so you should be able to download and read it on any device. it’s slow going because i have a lot of epubs that i have to convert before uploading and the folders i’ve listed here are neither complete nor comprehensive, but it’s a start! 

[explodebeam]

my ax IS my buddy!!!!!

[wordfather]

not my circus not my monkeys but thanks to my mutuals i know some of the lore

[wittythunderwitch]

the wild swans paro

[paramar]

The Animals - House of the Rising Sun (1964)

Silver Jews - New Orleans (1994)

wdhmbt’s tumblr post (undated)

[letterful]

“Writing is, rather, entering an immense cemetery where every tomb is waiting to be profaned. Writing is getting comfortable with everything that has already been written—great literature and commercial literature, if useful, the novel-essay and the screenplay—and in turn becoming, within the limits of one’s own dizzying, crowded individuality, something written. Writing is seizing everything that has already been written and gradually learning to spend that enormous fortune. (…) Thus in order to devote ourselves to literary work must we subscribe to the great scroll of writing? Yes. Writing inevitably has to reckon with other writing, and it’s from the terrain of the already written that the sentence might jump out that sets in motion a small admirable book or the great book that displays a trajectory and constructs a unique world of words, characters, and conflicts.”

— ELENA FERRANTE, from In the Margins: On the Pleasures of Reading and Writing, trans. Ann Goldstein.

[iunmadeher]

louis de pointe du lac — denial is a river