@cxie - Tumblr Blog

“What would you be communicating if you had to become someone else to communicate it? I mean, what is that?”

— Anthony Braxton (1985)

“As children, we have all suspected it: perhaps we are all, moving strangely beneath the sky, victims of a trap, a joke whose secret we will one day know. This reaction is certainly infantile and we turn away from it, living in a world imposed on us as though it were “perfectly natural,” quite different from the one that used to exasperate us. As children, we did not know if we were going to laugh or cry but, as adults, we “possess” this world, we make endless use of it, it is made of intelligible and utilizable objects. It is made of earth, stone, wood, plants, animals. We work the earth, we build houses, we eat bread and wine. We have forgotten, out of habit, our childish apprehensions. In a word, we have ceased to mistrust ourselves. Only a few of us, amid the great fabrications of society, hang on to our really childish reactions, still wonder naively what we are doing on the earth and what sort of joke is being played on us.”

— Georges Bataille, “The Cruel Practice of Art”

skribblegurl

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

heywriters

I couldn't remember the word "doorknob" ten minutes ago.

bumblewyn

ok but the onelook thesaurus will save your life, i literally could not live without this website

breelandwalker

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER'S LIFE

myfairkatiecat

LIFE SAVED

REBLOGGING TO SAVE ANOTHER WRITERS LIFE

sirowsky

I use this every time I sit down to write. It's the best tool in the world and I would be lost without it!

infantisimo

every now and then it takes hold of me. the title of a poem. i speak it with a snarl a cockiness a defiance almost like an amen. we sons of bitches are doing fine. i know it's miya poetry i know it's a translation i know it's got cultural historical political colours. i respect that. but it transcends all of that because ultimately it's a poem and a good one and you can give it a beat and sing it too. it's about everything. it's not shrunk and squared into a keyword a theme a motif a classification a hierarchy a theory a tea time talking point a section of a syllabus a dsm 5 entry. who wants to live life like that, come on. we sons of bitches are doing fine. by kazi neel. what a title, catches me by the collar. it thumbs its nose, cocks a snook, taunts with tongue, flips the bird. we sons of bitches are doing fine.

sivavakkiyar

William H Gass, preface to In The Heart of the Heart of the Country

sivavakkiyar

William H Gass, preface to In The Heart of the Heart of the Country

sivavakkiyar

William H Gass, preface to In The Heart of the Heart of the Country

havingapoemwithyou

A not admitting of the wound (1188) by Emily Dickinson

woodwool

severely deficient in whatever vitamin makes u a person

sashayed

has anyone figured out how to turn off the thing where you love your pet so much it slides inexorably into grief-borrowing

boomstab-papa

your-cosmic-creature

“For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

ntrider

oh I see. it was the crime of wanting. that's why I deserve it.

maziique-deactivated20250206

mapofthedreams

lindamanz420

"To begin with, a writer plays with words, but plays seriously ... when I was a child and was interrupted for any reason from a game I was playing alone or with my friends, I felt offended and humiliated, because I had the impression that they didn't realize to what extent that game I was playing with my friends was enormously important to all of us. We had an entire code, an entire system, an entire small world ... From the most complex games to the simplest ones, we had entered, while we were playing, into a territory that was totally ours and extremely important for as long as the game lasted. When a person gets interested in literature, this can persist; in my case, it persisted. I've always felt that there is a very important ludic element in literature..."