Modern day Loustat Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid for Entertainment Weekly

roma★

if i look back, i am lost
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sheepfilms
will byers stan first human second
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@entropyarchive
Modern day Loustat Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid for Entertainment Weekly
"I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die. But I do recognize the habit. The addiction to being alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough, so inadequate but.... Bless me anyway. I want more life."
if I just had the presence of mind and the wherewithal and the chutzpah and the bandwidth and the executive function and the energy and the mental resources and the spoons and the right attitude and the capacity and the gumption and th
been thinking about cyborg theory, and gurathin, and murderbot
— Will Rees, “Kafka the hypochondriac”
[ID:
A few months before he died, Franz Kafka wrote one of his finest and saddest tales. In ‘The Burrow’, a solitary, mole-like creature has dedicated its life to building an elaborate underground home in order to protect itself from outsiders. ‘I have completed the construction of my burrow and it seems to be successful,’ the protagonist notes at the outset. Quickly, however, the creature’s confidence begins to wane: how can it know if its defences are working? How can it be certain?
Kafka’s protagonist wants nothing less than complete security, so nothing can be left out of its calculations. In the small world of its burrow, every detail is significant, a possible ‘sign’ of a looming attack. Eventually, the creature begins to hear a noise it believes to be that of an invader. The noise is equally loud wherever it happens to be standing. It would appear, then, to originate within the creature’s own body: the sound, perhaps, of its own heart beating, its own frantic breathing; life happening and ebbing away, while the creature is worrying about something else.
/end ID]
WORRY WORRY
— February 19, 1922 | Franz Kafka diaries
Shadows on Door - Line Holtegaard
Danish , b, 1980 -
Oil on canvas , 100 x 150 cm.
John Cooke (British 1929–2018), Winter Evening, My Studio, 1991, Gouache on cardboard
[id screenprint from wikipedia: On 14 February 1779, English explorer Captain James Cook was violently killed as he attempted to kidnap Kalani`Opu'u, the ruling chief (ali'i nui) of the island of Hawaii, after the native Hawaiians had stolen a longboat from Cook's expedition. As Cook and his men attempted to take the chief to his ship, they were confronted by a crowd of Hawaiians at Kealakekua Bay seeking to rescue their hostage. The ensuing battle killed Cook and several Royal Marines, as well as several Hawaiians. Kalani'opu'u survived the exchange. end id]
note wikipekia has been edited to say 'killed' instead of 'violently killed' and commandeered instead of stolen
Nicole W. Lee, from "Even the Dust"
When the tech brings me back, an image already waits on the monitor: a white boob against the blackest black. The boob is filled with white lace, white ribbons, white strips of silk, like my breast is a diva primping herself in a pitch-black dressing room. Or maybe she’s filled with white swirls of smoke that her sultry self would have puffed in the previous century, lipstick staining her cigarette holder. Or maybe I’m just turning her into a diva because here, on the monitor, she’s been turned into a suspicious object, potentially deadly.
Heather Lanier, "Have You Ever: Mammogram Edition"
i am a normal guy with normal guy bones and organs