catastrophic

“i need language to live, like food”

[ghostlyabernathy]

‘When was love first described as a sickness? When did the body in love begin to be likened to one battling an infection?

The parallels are self-evident: love moves in and colonises all available space, reorienting everything to itself. It weaves a gauze beneath the skin of its subjects, a mesh through which all experience is filtered for the duration of the infection: healthy cells become love cells, resources are corralled and redirected, the body’s tangible and intangible energies are reconstructed as a living shrine to the beloved. In most European languages the word for love is said to derive from the ancient Nostratic word luba, meaning thirst.

Love’s appetite ends either with privation for the love-starved, or else a gorging, a devouring of its objects. A consumption.’

- Daisy Lafarge, Lovebug

[madeofmemoriesblog]

Moodboard

[lovesdaya]

@lovesdaya

[academic-vampire]

𝔱𝔢𝔞 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔰

[academic-vampire]

𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔣𝔦𝔱𝔰

[dragonsblowingoutbirthdaycandles]

your life is not an optimization problem

[dragonsblowingoutbirthdaycandles]

as in you'll never achieve the perfect daily routine, sleep schedule, coping mechanisms, mannerisms, fashion sense etc. even after years and years of healing and improvement and self-discovery. you will never be so good at life that you manage to utilize every waking moment. its great to be productive and all but sometimes you'll suck ass. sometimes you'll take eight hours to be done with a twenty minute job. you'll prioritize the wrong thing. you'll sleep for 12 hrs just to avoid being awake. you'll relapse. and you'll relapse again. you'll forget to turn in the assignment. you'll order too little food. life is far too large and complex for you to even experience it completely, much less try to make sense of and control it. you can't. please give up on that and be at peace with the hours you lose. they are not separate from your life.

[kafk-a]

T.H. White, in his 1958 retelling of the Arthurian legend in Once and Future King

[shitacademicswrite]

[ghostlyabernathy]

unlike a lot of people i actually AM a quitter. i love to quit i love to give up i love to stop doing things that i am not enjoying

[cocainejuul]

An absence so heavy it becomes a presence

[ghostlyabernathy]

welcome back jacques derrida

[ghostlyabernathy]

having to have a job whilst at university is a fate i wouldn’t wish on anyone

[old-habits-die-screaming]

oh to be immortal and be able to consume every piece of knowledge and literature ever

[ghostlyabernathy]

sometimes i think this but then i also think that there’s already so much knowledge and literature in the world and so much more being created as we speak that surely it’s actually impossible to ever fully catch up even if you were immortal. which is kind of sad but also kind of beautiful. you can never know everything !!!! there will always be more to learn !!!! our minds are always evolving !!!

[ghostlyabernathy]

summer in the kitchen

I will meet you in the kitchen.

And the light will bounce off the kettle and linger in your eyes.

And you will make me tea, or I’ll make you tea, and it’s really too hot to be drinking tea, I mean it’s mid July, but we’ll sip it anyway.

It’s too hot, really, for us to sit on that tiny sofa, feet slowly inching closer to each other until we silently agree to just tangle our legs together and not say anything about it.

Too hot, even, to be wearing such a thick t-shirt, you concede, politely looking away as I peel it off.

Nothing will happen, of course. We’re just in the kitchen. This quiet, intense intimacy that always seems to consume us doesn’t amount to anything, can’t amount to anything.

In a few hours, when the sun has long since set and the last bus has just gone, I’ll get up to leave.

We will hug, lingering a second too long, holding a little too tight, as though it is the last time we will see each other. I like to think that we are both unwilling to let go.

But we do, and it’s okay. I will see you in the kitchen again.

[ghostlyabernathy]

the girl i wrote this about just told me the kitchen is always her favourite room in a house

[english-idylls]

[orphic-academia]

[wolfythewitch]

This too shall pass but like holy fuck

[ghostlyabernathy]

notes from 5am

I awoke, inexplicably, at 4:58AM.

I went to open the window and noticed that a stillness had settled overnight, bathing everything in a kind of hesitancy. Mist hovered, cautious, over the grass and in the tips of the trees. Birds muttered quietly to themselves but didn’t dare burst into a full song. Although not visibly raining, I could hear the gentle drops of water filtering through the leaves, steadily soaking the pavement below my windowsill.

It was as though in this strange in between time that isn’t quite night yet isn’t quite day, the world had slowed. Not stopped - I don’t think the world ever really stops - but just relaxed slightly.