EskimoFetish

Friedrich, the Eskimo

[explorationadoration]

[eskimofetish]

That everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else. That this isn't necessarily perverse.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (205)

[eskimofetish]

I am coming to see that the sensation of the worst nightmares, a sensation that can be felt asleep or awake, is identical to those worst dreams' form itself: the sudden intra-dream realization that the nightmares' very essence and center has been with you all along, even awake: it's just been . .. overlooked; and then that horrific interval between realizing what you've overlooked and turning your head to look back at what's been right there all along, the whole time.... Your first nightmare away from home and folks, your first night at the Academy, it was there all along: The dream is that you awaken from a deep sleep, wake up suddenly damp and panicked and are overwhelmed with the sudden feeling that there is a distillation of total evil in this dark strange subdorm room with you, that evil's essence and center is right here, in this room, right now. And is for you alone. None of the other little boys in the room are awake; the bunk above yours sags dead, motionless; no one moves; no one else in the room feels the presence of something radically evil; none thrash or sit damply up; no one else cries out: whatever it is is not evil for them. The flashlight your mother name-tagged with masking tape and packed for you special pans around the institutional room: the drop-ceiling, the gray striped mattress and bulged grid of bunksprings above you, the two other bunkbeds another matte gray that won't return light, the piles of books and compact disks and tapes and tennis gear; your disk of white light trembling like the moon on water as it plays over the identical bureaus, the recessions of closet and room's front door, door's frame's bolections; the cone of light pans over fixtures, the lumpy jumbles of sleeping boys' shadows on the snuff-white walls, the two rag throw-rugs' ovals on the hardwood floor, black lines of baseboards' reglets, the cracks in the Venetian blinds that ooze the violet nonlight of a night with snow and just a hook of moon; the flashlight with your name in maternal cursive plays over every cm. of the walls, the rheostats, CD, Inter-Lace poster of Tawni Kondo, phone console, desks' TPs, the face in the floor, posters of pros, the onionskin yellow of the desklamps' shades, the ceiling-panels' patterns of pinholes, the grid of upper bunk's springs, recession of closet and door, boys wrapped in blankets, slight crack like a creek's course in the eastward ceiling discernible now, maple reglet border at seam of ceiling and walls north and south no floor has a face your flashlight showed but didn't no never did see its eyes' pupils set sideways and tapered like a cat's its eyebrows' \ / and horrid toothy smile leering right at your light all the time you've been scanning oh mother a face in the floor mother oh and your flashlight's beam stabs jaggedly back for the overlooked face misses it overcorrects then centers on what you'd felt but had seen without seeing, just now, as you'd so carefully panned the light and looked, a face in the floor there all the time but unfelt by all others and unseen by you until you knew just as you felt it didn't belong and was evil: Evil.

--- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest 

[eskimofetish]

“The day before they left — so like five days ago — Orin was out by himself in the Jacuzzi by the pool late in the day, caring for the leg, sitting in the radiant heat and bloody late-day light with the leg in the Jacuzzi, absently squeezing the tennis ball he still absently squeezes out of habit. Watching the Jacuzzi funnel and bubble and foam around the leg. And out of nowhere a bird had all of a sudden fallen into the Jacuzzi. With a flat matter-of-fact plop. Out of nowhere. Out of the wide empty sky. Nothing overhung the Jacuzzi but sky. The bird seemed to have just had a coronary or something in flight and died and fallen out of the empty sky and landed dead in the Jacuzzi, right by the leg. He brought his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose with a finger and looked at it. It was an undistinguished kind of bird. Not a predator. Like a wren, maybe. It seems like no way could it have been a good sign. The dead bird bobbed and barrel-rolled in the foam, sucked under one second and reappearing the next, creating an illusion of continued flight. Orin had inherited none of the Moms's phobias about disorder, hygiene. (Not crazy about bugs though — roaches.) But he'd just sat there squeezing the ball, looking at the bird, without a conscious thought in his head. By the next morning, waking up, curled and entombed, it seemed like it had to have been a bad sign, though.”

--- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (44)

[eskimofetish]

[coocoolah-deactivated20190601]

There is a notion out there that black people enjoy the sisyphean struggle against racism. In fact, most of us live for the day when we can struggle against anything else. But having been, by that very racism, pinned into ghettos, both metaphorical and real, our options for struggle are chosen long before we are born. And so we struggle out of fear for our children. We struggle out of fear for ourselves. We struggle to avoid our feelings, because to actually consider all that was taken, to understand that it was taken systemically, that the taking is essential to America and echoes down through the ages, could make you crazy.

Ta-Nehisi Coates (via coocoolah)

[amare-habeo]

Anton Prinner (Hungarian/French, 1902-1983)

Illustration for “The Book of the Dead of the Ancient Egyptians”, 1948

Engraved plate

[eskimofetish]

That the cliche ‘I don’t know who I am’ unfortunately turns out to be more than a cliche.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (204)

[jimjarmusch]

[innerab-deactivated20161213]

[hirxeth]

Stranger Things (2016-) dir. The Duffer Brothers

[nothingforkings]

[nitrogen]

(18+)

[vtorjenie-deactivated20161214]

[radimola-blog]

WHY THE DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE SUCKS AND WHAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT

AN OIL PIPELINE IS GOING TO POISON AN ENTIRE COMMUNITY:

A huge company is building an oil pipeline through the Missouri River. It’ll transport the dirtiest oil right through some of the cleanest water in the US. If there is a crack, leak, spill, any breakage, (which is super common) that oil will seep into the water and that water will become toxic.

The company that owns Sunoco just got their permit approved (btw Rick Perry is on their board of directors, in case that gives anyone else the fucking creeps). In response, a bunch of kids from Standing Rock Reservation physically ran across the country (1800 miles) in protest, carrying a petition w/ over 140,000 signatures, and met with the white house. NOW these kids, members of indigenous tribes around the nation, and their allies, are standing in front of massive equipment, using their bodies to stop construction and putting their lives on the line to protect this water.

WHY IT MATTERS:

When that water gets contaminated by oil, it will be poisoned, essentially deadly, within the hour. It’ll effect anyone in any community along the river or connecting rivers in North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois. More people than we can fathom will lose access to clean water, and it’ll happen quickly. These kids are fighting for our access to clean water, too.

What happened in Flint could have been avoided if we had known about it. This time we have a shot.

HOW YOU CAN HELP:

This is a big list of things we can do. Sharing info, donating funds, sending supplies… We all have different abilities and means so here are a number of ways you can help.

SIGN AND SHARE THIS PETITION: bit.ly/SacredStonePetition   - This is the official White House petition, their original Change.org petition has over 200k signatures, since this one is 

CHANGE.ORG PETITION: bit.ly/SacredStoneChangeOrg    - Sign and share, the more numbers the better and they will keep you updated via the petition, let u know what’s going on at Sacred Stone and ways you can help as the fight continues. 

DONATE TO THE CAUSE:

To donate thru GoFundMe: bit.ly/SacredStoneFund

To donate to camp using paypal: bit.ly/SacredStonePaypalFund

To donate to legal defense fund: bit.ly/SacredStoneLegal

If you cannot donate, consider sharing these links in case someone in your circle has the cash, but doesn’t know about this yet!

SEND SUPPLIES:

To send / drop off Supplies: 202 Main Street Fort Yates, ND 58538

Full list of supplies needed: bit.ly/SacredStoneSupplies

Some examples of supplies needed: canned food, cookware, toilet paper, diapers, reusable plates & utensils, tents, solar powered gear, flashlights, blankets, water jugs.

PHYSICALLY SHOW UP:

If you want to join in ND, and use your body or talents to bring support, sign up here: bit.ly/SacredStoneCampVolunteer

If you’ve got access to a boat and can be in ND by August 20th: bit.ly/SacredStoneWater

FOLLOW THE STORY:

Follow on Facebook: bit.ly/SacredStoneFB

Follow the Standing Rock kids on Twitter: twitter.com/rezpectourwater

Follow the Standing Rock kids on IG: instagram.com/rezpectourwater/

[eskimofetish]

How lovely it is that there are words and sounds. Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart?

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra 

[eskimofetish]

And to me also, who appreciate life, the butterflies, and soap-bubbles, and whatever is like them amongst us, seem most to enjoy happiness.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

[eskimofetish]

“She may know a little, may think of herself, face and body, as ‘pretty’…but he could never tell her all the rest, how many other living things, birds, nights smelling of grass and rain, sunlit moments of simple peace, also gather in what she is to him.”    ―    Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow