I'm from Western Europe, English is my second language
I'm passionate about stories in all kinds of media. Books, comics, videos, games, I love them all!
I enjoy learning about history, classics, archaeology and Japanese studies, among other things
I have probably spent actual years of my life on Youtube
I'm rediscovering my passion for writing, though I'm unsure if I'll ever share any original fiction
I post about fandoms, my interests and share some thoughts on life here
My queue is feeding you Kingdom Come Deliverance, Castlevania, Hermitcraft and other media, mlm and other ships, occasional shitposts, roleplaying and internet meta
There will be NSFW content as well
You might be looking for one of my sideblogs @weathered-copper-lantern or @wolltraeger or possibly one of the secret ones
Feel free to follow or comment/ask, I'd love to meet some likeminded people. I'm not the quickest to reply, please be patient with me.
Language, Reflection, Circularity: The Mixology of Martha and George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf
Pictured: The two-headed beast of mixology, singing “I’m nobody’s houseboy now.”
Thoughts below cut:
Throughout Albee’s three-act play, Martha and George mix more than “bergin,” “rubbing alcohol” and not-so-polite company — their shared directionality and diction is a circuit that locks them together in a tautological fusion of identity. They’re married not only in law but intra-textually through their combined use (or misuse) of language throughout the social turbulence of their evening.
One salient example of this type of linguistic exchange occurs during the dance scene, which in the 1966 film takes place in the roadhouse. While Martha pairs up with their guest Nick to, as stage-directed in the play, “undulate,” George unpleasantly addresses their other guest and Nick’s wife, Honey, using such epithets as “angel-tits” and “monkey-nipples.”
The language here on first pass might read as dated misogynistic glibness, external to the text, but on closer examination there’s evidence of internal intent behind it: George as a character, with a demonstrated verbal wit and the requisite social intelligence of an experienced professor, is likely perfectly aware of how it comes across. It’s neither a genuine solicitation nor a genuine condescending remark in the sense that it’s not actually directed at its subject. It’s fully intended to be both damaging and absurdly strange, specifically for the benefit (or detriment) of Martha. Martha who, with no less wit and academic prowess, is singularly capable of decoding its personal semantic meaning. This reads especially true comparative to his earlier consternation regarding Martha’s similar remarks — what she terms her “body talk” to which he chastises “decency forbids” and “your obscenity is more than…” — and it’s clear from juxtaposition with that earlier attitude that this language is in opposition to his usual pattern of speech, to the extent you take anything they say as truth. In this and the next scene there’s a lot of objectifying language on his part to which he earlier, more than once, objected. “Why baby, I did it all for you,” he says shortly after his game of Get the Guests. “I thought you’d come running at me, melons bobbling.” It echoes her own usage of impersonal vulgarity; he’s mirroring her language and actions back at her. It’s a kind of recursive mimesis — a mutual exchange of semiotics — he’s acting as her, he’s doing Martha for Martha.
There are numerous examples of this kind of mirroring throughout, where they personify and impersonate each other by using or reflecting back each other’s rhetoric. Every time they quibble about word usage they’re mirroring language at each other. Something — somebody. Got — gotten. Abstract — abstruse. In one of their initial spats she’s at a loss for words and he supplies one: She says, contemptuously, “You don’t even have the…the what?” He offers, “…guts?” Then she calls him a phrasemaker and they both laugh. Often the way they speak to one another takes on a quality that is a private language all their own, layers of meaning intelligible only between themselves, as well as a circular predatorial quality that approaches and retreats between intimacy and hostility — and they enter in and out of a game of simplified regressive child-speak that, in some sense, harkens chronologically backward. When she talks about George’s real/false autobiographical novel, she does so in rhymed couplets. The play itself shares this same circularity not only in its language but in structural form, by echoing back the language of “it’s late” from the opening to the closing, and in the film the musical score reflects this as well. In both, the narrative action wraps around from early in the night until sun-up. In physical action, the fake gun reenacts, in circular repetition, the subjective truth or illusion in the several deaths of parent/child that variously arise. There are at least two instances, although one of these might be exclusive to the film, when George and Martha are speaking together in coupled crosstalk, over one another and with one another and against one another, in a kind of linguistic duet — in the third act of the play specifically their texts are visually mirrored, simultaneously, side by side down the page — and this symmetry amplifies and harmonizes the substance of one another’s speech by existing in that shared space, a kind of agreement in disagreement. Even when they’re using it against one another, the necessary double-act dichotomy of their shared common language and action inextricably merges them.
The thing about them is that while there may be other people in the room they are only ever talking exclusively to each other. Other people are just props to their performance for one another. They speak subtextually in the type of primitive communication that Wittgenstein refers to as “language games” — from Philosophical Investigations: “Here the term ‘language-game’ is meant to bring into prominence the fact that the speaking of languages is part of an activity, or of a form of life” — and by this means mutually provide each other the definition and context of their own reality. This culminates in their “not a houseboy” discussion — it’s an admission that she is putting down the prop. Not an admission of Nick’s personhood — note she quickly dismisses and undermines his thanks — but an admission to George that she is finished with it now, she doesn’t want to play toys anymore, which he refuses with yet another mirrored word — snap. Then in full circle their roles exchange: her actions mirror his in that she becomes in the closing act as weary and unwilling as he was in the opening act, and his actions mirror hers in that he is now the one inviting in the guests, spurring her to action, picking the fight, and singing to her the eponymous song. They move in and out of one another, coalesce, parallel, and embody one another in language and action. They are masters of misdirected communication and in perfect collaborative complicity. They combine heads, in a delusive visionary capacity — like Barthes’ paradoxical neurosis that is “from the center of madness…that bit of neurosis necessary to the [textual] seduction” — in order to iterate through language, and through an imagined child, every version of themselves in a complete and comprehensive idealism turned weaponry. When Nick says “Hell, I don’t know when you people are lying or what,” we get them paired together shoulder to shoulder in the frame, both facing front, complementing each other with this snappy repetition:
Martha: You’re damn right!
George: You’re not supposed to.
Martha: Right!
In several instances George accuses her of monstrosity — he says “there isn’t an abomination award going that you haven’t won,” he refers to her as a cyclops and a monster — but the synchronicity and interdependence of their mirrored language and direction infers that only they together are the two-headed chimera-beast — a mixology — of self-referentiality.
There are a lot of lenses to examine this through — deconstruction of gender, of traditional institutional marriage and family structure, of nationalistic ideals, of the social norms which subjugated women of the time; postmodernist existentialism, to name a few. Probably I’m not even saying anything new. Obviously, there is a compelling and darkly romantic component, and I think the love they have for one another in whatever form that takes is central and essential to the motivating inertia of the text. In an interview for Playboy, film director Mike Nichols stated, “George and Martha suffer for each other. They yell at each other and don’t call each other sweetheart and don’t hold hands in front of other people, but they’re deeply important to each other. They can’t speak without mentioning the other’s name.”
Film analysis isn’t my forte but, as an aside, in the film there are some meaningful details and imagery that compound this theme: They speak to one another in front of mirrors, there’s a high angle shot of Honey spinning in circular direction, the shot of the moon, the shot through the circle-window in the roadhouse door, the repetition of lights in the parking lot and from the car in the yard. I don’t have wardrobe information but, in terms of blending traits, it seems reasonably plausible from the style and fit that the shirt Martha wears in the last act is implied to be George’s. In fact, tonally in the register of black and white her clothing shifts closer in value to his every time she changes, from the stark and vivid black dress to the fashionably bolder but tonally more muted low-neckline blouse he calls her “Sunday chapel dress,” to the looser, more ambiguous, more synonymous grey of the final collared shirt. And it’s in this last outfit she delivers her “sad, sad, sad” monologue — the language of which folds back on itself in repetition and reversion: “George who is good to me, whom I revile; who can make me laugh and I choke it back….who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy, and yes I do wish to be happy.” — which takes place in the open doorway facing out of the house, not to the person in the room with her but directionally toward George, “who is out somewhere there in the dark.”
In this shared state of identity-ambiguity they come together and finally dialectically “cut through all this crap.” Throughout the play they thrive in increasing ambiguity, but in the closing act the ambiguity of their cohesion almost seems to transfer from them to the viewer, the titular “exorcism” of the third act. Visually for the film, the camera closes in on their joined hands. In the closing shot, the closer in every sense they get to one another, the optically closer we get to them through the lens, and the blurrier they become.
The novel Cocktails with George and Martha opens with an epigraph from Fiddler on the Roof, and that choice of intertextuality is so completely inspired and brilliantly fitting I’ll borrow it here:
Tevye: Do you love me?
Golde: Do I what?
The question of love between Tevye and Golde is unanswerable except by the question, “If that’s not love, what is?” For George and Martha the answer is equally subtextual, unknowable, unconscious, undefinable in plain language except that it joins them in its mirror reflection.
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I have a mod that lets me no-clip out of my body and look through walls
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, this other mod gives me a minimap so I never get lost
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I saw this build online so I will build it now in my world I did not come up with it
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I have a mod that will project a picture of the build I never made into the world so I don't have to copy from a screenshot
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I did some mining off-camera so I have all the resources which is why this mod can place all the blocks and I just have to stand nearby
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, it's so hard to make these videos I installed five more mods
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, here's a farm I didn't come up with and don't understand the workings on, it's also here now yay
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, we have
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, we have optimised all the fun and inconvenience out of this game I am having so much fun I am having so much fun I am having so much fun
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I am so bored please watch my video this is my job now
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, I AM SO FUCKING SORRY I AM SO FUCKING SORRY I AM SO FUCKING SORRY
I never learned what a character or a story is, pacing is that thing you do with your feet right, how dare you use big words when talking about my videos let's plays are not art and therefore can not be criticized
Mod by mod little by little I have surgically removed everything that stands between myself and a round number or a giant building on my thumbnails
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, they're writing gay fics about me and my more talented more popular friend
I wish they would stop
It scares me
Welcome to my minecraft vanilla survival world, the me in the fanfics has so much more personality.
every few months i try to figure out how to build a website so that if tumblr ever gets nuked i dont lose all my writing and every few months i have to remind myself that i am a fish trying to climb a tree
*scrabbles frantically for links* Joe Hills Says You Can Code!
it's a set of four lessons on creating, publishing, and managing your own website, primarily aimed at internet artists who want websites for pretty much the reason you do
it also assumes no prior coding experience (I mean no experience - step 4 of lesson 1 is 'find the text file you just made')
are people under the impression that aromantic people never want to have close personal relationships with the people in their lives. "oh i wish i was aro it would save me all this drama!" actually human relationships are always deep and complicated and messy and have the potential to hurt and help and change your life and being romantic is just one possible aspect of that. aromantic people want to be close to the people around them just like anyone else. and i know the real issue is that people think romantic relationships are the only way to be truly close to someone else but it's weird and off-putting to constantly hear the implication that aros are somehow fundamentally incapable of forming relationships that would impact their lives negatively cause they don't wanna go on dates with people. not even mentioning the aros who do
One of my best friends ( @acesoddity ) actually started watching the Ranma 1/2 remake a while ago, and online we started joking about how Ranma 1/2 would translate to 2026 if you preserved the cocktail of queerness and homophobia that is pervasive in the series' characterization and gag style humor. We decided that the characters could use modern terms for gender and sexuality but we couldn’t change the fact that everyone is severely repressed and in denial and toxic nor the fact that it’s a comedy series, so our solution was to have them all like, fling buzzwords that they don't understand around. And that the characters could use modern technology but within their own tech skills. Full disclosure a few of these are references but here are some of the ideas we came up with:
Ryoga doesn't fight women because he's a feminist
Ranma tries to remind him of this during a fight to escape and he responds “I believe in equality I’ll hit anyone even a woman” and doesn’t pause for a beat
Shampoo uses the hashtag #lovewins because she sees romance as a competition
The girls at furinkan get in a debate over whether Ukyo can call herself a lesbian while using he/him pronouns and when Ukyo hears about this she says “but I’m just a straight cis woman”
Mousse gets cancelled online because Ranma calls him a misogynist. Not for any of the valid reasons but because he got hugged one too many times and asks him “Do all women look the same to you?” And he replied “Yes” on camera
Kuno is the only member of the main cast to actively identify as queer and it’s because he learns extremely cursory information about polyamory
Akane calls herself part of the queer community because she thinks the A in LGBTQIA stands for ally and she is a #ally who supports the gay men in her life whole-heartedly and wants them to be accepted (She's talking about Ryoga)
Nabiki made insane amounts of money off of NFTs before that market disappeared
Akane calls Ranma a misogynist and Ranma responds "I can’t be a misogynist I’m a woman" and Akane's genuine reaction is like "Oh no wait that’s so true…"
Genma and Soun find out they have a common law marriage
Ranma loooves to talk about how he is serving cunt and Akane hates it
As in, he'll borrow a dress from Shampoo and be all “I’m serving. This fit is so cunty” and shampoo is like “Yes! Ranma so cunt!” And Akane is like "Can both of u shut the fuck up"
I think a lot of people are forgetting that on tumblr fandom used to be practiced very differently. now everyone fucks off to their discords or tumblr groups to discuss everything with a select few, making tags be nearly only used for posting some finished fanworks or not at all
a decade ago people didn't have tumblr groups. people didn't even have dms. if you wanted to talk to anyone about anything you had to make a post, or send an ask (which more often than not would get published and thereby become a post in the end too)
so next time you think "I have a fandom thought but I have to find a small group of hyperspecifically like-minded people to share it with in private" remember all the freaks you could be missing out on meeting by keeping the tags dead. use tags, make friends. fuck discord.
Haughty thespian convinced that only dazzling performance can raise Pharloom from the throes of death. – Hunter's Journal
Here's Trobbio!
It's been a while since I've tried to put colour on paper, but I've reached the point where I need to decide that I'm done. Lots of flaws, but I think it's gonna be fine as a tiny profile picture?
Now that I'm done, I'm kinda hesitant to replace the orange cone. It's really grown on me over the last two years. I think I'll give it another day or so until I rip the bandaid.
