It is an old law that suffering and love go together. There is no one who is a lover who does not also suffer, and every lover is a martyr.
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It is an old law that suffering and love go together. There is no one who is a lover who does not also suffer, and every lover is a martyr.
rateyourmusic
goodreads
myanimelist
Devavrata was mature far beyond his years; in their bond of love, the son was the stronger one. He bore the responsibility of their intense relationship.
i hate everyone
whether he’s big or small, its only natural to want to see your blorbo turned into a sobbing mess while he’s being used by multiple men. the yaoi law requires him to be molested thoroughly.
i want to touch him inappropriately
if i ever opened my inbox it would be full of people who have been hate-stalking me for ages scaring me with every minor detail they have memorized about me that i don't even remember myself and that is no longer true
i am too online to treat calling people "media illiterate" seriously because most of the time it translates to "you don't get my ship and headcanons." it's been such a buzzword for the last two years
some sad autistic man giving his sad gay interview
in my fanfiction i have a secondary arranged-marriage trope, and it made me think about how access to all kinds of bodies to look at and the possibility of casual dating, makes a person hollow. if i were a man and a woman had been promised to me, while i had been promised to her, there would be something beautiful in caring for that bond out of duty. it would encourage me to find beauty in this one body, and to desire this person because she is this person. there would be no measuring. she would be mine, and that would be the end of it, and i would have to make the best of what had been given to me. i could not even think of anyone else. or rather, there would not even be the thought that someone else might be possible. i would be hers, and she would be mine, because we had been promised to one another, and this would be all that fate had allowed us to work with. she would be the only person through whom i could express my sexuality. there seems to be something innocent and virtuous in this. an important detail, i think, is that they have been betrothed since childhood. this is completely different from the modern idea of marriage, though it doesn't mean that such a marriage is devoid of love. love functions more like a virtue, as the keeping of one's word. love may be produced through the keeping of a moral obligation, rather than being a spontaneous feeling. i see something similar to this in the mahabharata. it is difficult for a modern reader to grasp why a marriage based on duty might be better than one coming from free and mutual attraction, but i do understand it, and this is why i think divorce is evil. but divorce is also necessary when men have no care for righteousness
my blog is devoid of images now because i enjoy nothing i see
“Let us then believe in our star friendship even if we should be compelled to be earth enemies.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
I have committed no moral offence in this matter; in the sight of God my soul is blameless; but to you and to the world I am guilty of an abominable crime—abominable, because it is a sin against convention, forsooth! I met this boy: I loved him as I had never loved any one or any thing before: I had no need to labour to win his affection—he was mine by right: he loved me, even as I loved him, from the first: he was the necessary complement to my soul. How dare the world presume to judge us? What is convention to us? Nevertheless, although I really knew that such a love was beautiful and blameless, although from the bottom of my heart I despised the narrow judgment of the world, yet for his sake and for the sake of our Church, I tried at first to resist. I struggled against the fascination he possessed for me. I would never have gone to him and asked his love; I would have struggled on till the end: but what could I do? It was he that came to me, and offered me the wealth of love his beautiful soul possessed. How could I tell to such a nature as his the hideous picture the world would paint? Even as you saw him this evening, he has come to me night by night—how dare I disturb the sweet purity of his soul by hinting at the horrible suspicions his presence might arouse? I knew what I was doing. I have faced the world and set myself up against it. I have openly scoffed at its dictates. I do not ask you to sympathize with me, nor do I pray you to stay your hand. Your eyes are blinded with a mental cataract. You are bound, bound with those miserable ties that have held you body and soul from the cradle. You must do what you believe to be your duty. In God’s eyes we are martyrs, and we shall not shrink even from death in this struggle against the idolatrous worship of convention.
The Priest and the Acolyte John Francis Bloxam
My one ambition was to find the ideal for which I longed. It has always been thus: I have always had an indefinite longing for something, a vague something that never quite took shape, that I could never quite understand. My great desire has always been to find something that would satisfy me. I was attracted at once by sin: my whole early life is stained and polluted with the taint of sin. Sometimes even now I think that there are sins more beautiful than any thing else in the world. There are vices that are bound to attract almost irresistibly any one who loves beauty above every thing. I have always sought for love: again and again I have been the victim of fits of passionate affection: time after time I have seemed to have found my ideal at last: the whole object of my life has been, times without number, to gain the love of some particular person. Several times my efforts were successful; each time I woke to find that the success I had obtained was worthless after all. As I grasped the prize, it lost all its attraction—I no longer cared for what I had once desired with my whole heart. In vain I endeavoured to drown the yearnings of my heart with the ordinary pleasures and vices that usually attract the young. I had to choose a profession. I became a priest. The whole æsthetic tendency of my soul was intensely attracted by the wonderful mysteries of Christianity, the artistic beauty of our services. Ever since my ordination I have been striving to cheat myself into the belief that peace had come at last—at last my yearning was satisfied: but all in vain. Unceasingly I have struggled with the old cravings for excitement, and, above all, the weary, incessant thirst for a perfect love. I have found, and still find, an exquisite delight in religion: not in the regular duties of a religious life, not in the ordinary round of parish organizations—against these I chafe incessantly—no, my delight is in the æsthetic beauty of the services, the ecstasy of devotion, the passionate fervour that comes with long fasting and meditation.
The Priest and the Acolyte John Francis Bloxam
i have to uninstall twitter again because i saw a post laughing at "drinking milk is misogyny." people never attempt to understand anything. one could argue that misogyny is hatred toward human females and not females as such. but obviously, by saying "drinking milk is misogyny," the person meant that seeing the female body as a resource to be exploited is misogynistic. we too are animals, and it is still the exploitation of the same system of reproduction. of course, again, we can say that misogyny is specific to human females. but why not attempt to understand first
There is, in fact, another model of permanence in time besides that of character. It is that of keeping one’s word in faithfulness to the word that has been given. I see in this keeping the emblematic figure of an identity which is the polar opposite of that depicted by the emblematic figure of character. Keeping one’s word expresses a self-constancy which cannot be inscribed, as character was, within the dimension of something in general but solely within the dimension of “who?” Here, too, common usage is a good guide. The perseverance of character is one thing, the perseverance of faithfulness to a word that has been given is something else again. The continuity of character is one thing, the constancy of friendship is quite another. In this regard, Heidegger is right to distinguish the permanence of substance from self-subsistence. This major distinction remains, even if it is not certain that “anticipatory resoluteness” in the face of death exhausts the sense of self-constancy. This attitude thus expresses a certain existential investment of the transcendentals of existence which Heidegger terms “existentialia,” among which we find selfhood. Other attitudes — situated at the same juncture of the existentiell and the existential, as all the Heideggerian analyses revolving around Being-toward-death — reveal just as much about the fundamental conjunction between the problematic of permanence in time and that of the self, inasmuch as the self does not coincide with the same. In this respect, keeping one’s promise, as was mentioned above, does indeed appear to stand as a challenge to time, a denial of change: even if my desire were to change, even if I were to change my opinion or my inclination, “I will hold firm.” It is not necessary, for the promise to be meaningful, to place keeping one’s word within the horizon of Being-toward-death. The properly ethical justification of the promise suffices of itself, a justification which can be derived from the obligation to safeguard the institution of language and to respond to the trust that the other places in my faithfulness. This ethical justification, considered as such, develops its own temporal implications, namely a modality of permanence in time capable of standing as the polar opposite to the permanence of character. It is here, precisely, that selfhood and sameness cease to coincide. And it is here, consequently, that the equivocalness of the notion of permanence in time is dissipated.
Oneself as Another Paul Ricœur
in order for complexity to serve as depth it has to be tidy
this life is for whores