Everestcore

Being a girly girl

[everestcore]

In this world of AI-generated Tinder bio, she is a 3-page fountain pen-written love letter.

[askebos]

“Stop thinking about saving your fragile face. Tell us your particularized world. Make up a story. Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created. We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp. We will not blame you if your words go down in flames and nothing is left but the raw-scald. We will not blame you if, with the reticence of a surgeon’s hands, your words suture only the red places where blood might flow. We will not blame you because we know you can never do it properly: once and for all. Passion is never enough. Talent is never enough. Skill is never enough. But try. For our sake and yours. So. Forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul. You, so blessed with occasional blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

— Toni Morrison, The Nobel Lecture In Literature, 1993

[dilf-of-the-endless]

THE AMOUNT OF ART IN THIS ALBUM I SWEAR

[weltenwellen]

Ada Limón, “To Be Made Whole”, On Being with Krista Tippett

[weltenwellen]

Rebecca Solnit, Hope In The Dark

[weltenwellen]

Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

Paul Eluard, “Right in the Middle of the Month of August”, Selected Poems(trans. Gilbert Bowen) (x)

[weltenwellen]

Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

[anthropoetics]

i know tumblr is the closest we can get but i really wish blogs were still a thing. just slightly ugly aesthetics with pieces of writing that changed your life. reading them when internet was a place in your house ughhh

[anthropoetics]

readings: essays, articles & short stories pt. 2

the winter of civilisation

fruits we'll never taste, languages we'll never hear: the need for needless complexity

emily dickinson and the creative solitude of space

the lost art of looking at nature

the bowl, the ram and the folded map: navigating the complicated world

ada limón on preparing the body for a reopened world

before it was 'bittersweet', nostalgia was seen as a parasite

why alien languages could be far stranger than we imagine

the fig leaf, benjamin shane evans

cat pianos, sound-houses, and other imaginary musical instruments

of shark moves, shell shocks, and trash landings on the moon

as bright as a feather — ostriches, home dyeing, and the global plume trade

getting ahead, jonas karlsson

do these florida dolphins have a language?

the form of a demon and the heart of a person: kitagawa utamaro's prints of yamauba and kintarō (ca. 1800)

who needs ai text-generation when there's erasmus of rotterdam

when memories from fiction become part of who you are

how do transgender people remember their earlier selves?

[everestcore]

Thought I didn’t like rain anymore, absolutely wrong. I will always love it. I feel good in this weather.

[only-cat-memes]

[everestcore]

[firstfullmoon]

Ada Limón, from “The Hurting Kind,” in The Hurting Kind

[text ID: Before my grandfather died, I asked him what sort / of horse he had growing up. He said, / Just a horse. My horse, with such a tenderness it / rubbed the bones in the ribs all wrong. / I have always been too sensitive, a weeper / from a long line of weepers. / I am the hurting kind. I keep searching for proof.]

[achillesinhighheels]

[thoughtcascades]

I don’t just want attention. I want obsession.

[everestcore]

Me af

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

No matter how much you dislike your own writing, I promise you it’s better than AI

[allsadnshit]

"Growing Around Grief"

Lois Tonkin, 1996

[everestcore]

No better explanation than this

[rubbishraven]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

post/artist

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Effective graphics.

[dogrotpdf]

how’s that house that raised you?

[everestcore]

…… sorry what?

[exhaled-spirals]

“You think it will never happen to you, that it cannot happen to you, that you are the only person in the world to whom none of these things will ever happen, and then, one by one, they all begin to happen to you, in the same way they happen to everyone else.”

— Paul Auster, Winter Journal