Wikipedia / Image from pinterest / Machiavelli / George Santayana / Thucydides / Image from pinterest / Abba - Waterloo / J. M. Barrie - Peter Pan / Fibonacci spiral / Catherynne M. Valente
[video description: an animation mostly in the style of ancient greek vase painting. a sphinx sits with her head held high in a dignified expression. then, a little griffin in the style of minoan art comes galloping playfully into the scene, circling the sphinx. when it eventually comes to a stop next to her, she breaks her expression to look down at it with a smile. a chill, silly instrumental audio track plays in the background. end description.]
“Accepting the Universe” (1920), by John Burroughs; // “Literary Paper” (1855), by Edward Forbes; // “A Thousand Flamingos” by Sanober Khan; // Sylvia Earle; // “Wither” (The Chemical Garden Trilogy), by Lauren DeStefano; // “The Immense Journey” ch. The Flow of the River (1957), by Loren Eiseley; // Jacques-Yves Cousteau; // Heinrich Zimmer; // “Pictures from Brueghel and Other Poems” (1962), by William Carlos Williams; // “Sandry’s Book” (Circle of Magic Quartet), by Tamora Pierce; // “The Sea”, by Barry Cornwall (Bryan Waller Procter); // Speech at the America’s Cup Dinner (1962), by John F. Kennedy; // Jacques-Yves Cousteau; // Erica Billups; // Robert Wyland; // “Eragon” (The Inheritance Cycle Tetralogy), by Christopher Paolini; // Christy Ann Martine; // Robert Wyland; // “Le testament d'Orphée” (1960), by Jean Cocteau; // Speech at the America’s Cup Dinner (1962), by John F. Kennedy; // “The Infinite Moment of Us”, by Lauren Myracle; // “American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from Poe to the Pulps”, by Julian Hawthorne
a drag path; 7 years of friendship, of calling him my brother. etched in the surface as evidence; the medusa piercing he got on the same day in the same appointment for my septum piercing, getting my hair bleached in the same style that he once had his every time I go to the hairdresser now, the compression wrist sleeve he bought because the week before I told him how I was worried about his elastic joints in his hands, how he was the first person to call me by my new name when I came out to him as non-binary. I left there on purpose; my favorite books on my shelves that he reccomended me, the oversized denim overalls I bought him hanging in his wardrobe, the pins on my denim jacket he gifted me, the candle that looks like running blood when melting I gave him for christmas. can you find me; it has been 3 years, he will never speak to me again.
DO THE ABSOLUTE MINIMUM AT WORK. MAKE ART THAT HURTS. ABANDON ALL GUILT AND SHAME. DONT LET THEM KILL YOUR SOUL. BECOME YOUR OWN PERSONAL GOD. GROW SPIKES. DONT LET THEM KILL YOUR SOUL
for jason. for my brother. emrys, you know who you are. the JRR Tolkien to my C.S. Lewis. you're not dead but by god does it feel like it. a last letter for you, should you find this (I hope you don't).
dear jason,
it's december 2025 and soon it will be 3 years since we last spoke. 3 years and I still think about you. how couldn't I? you were my brother. you were my brother and without you I feel like I've lost a limb. I'm without you and you're not even dead.
I accept and understand that at times I expressed myself in ways that I shouldn't have. I haven't accepted that you didn't have the heart to pull me up on it. (my therapist said I was setting boundaries and that I can't be blamed for the way people react to them but how could I not blame myself?) you were my family. I held you accountable and you held me accountable. instead you got so in your head with rage that you made up a scenario and got mad at me for the way you imagined me. instead you festered in your rage for so long it burned away the love leaving you with no choice but to hate me. what would have happened if you had just spoken to me about this when you had the chance?
I don't forgive you for how you did it. my mother nearly called an ambulance when she got home and heard the sounds I was making. she won't forgive you for it either. I was still crying when my sister came home and she laid on my bed with me for an hour consoling me. she hates you.
I had so much love in my heart for you. and you broke it every time you went months without speaking to me. I was always there when you came back. I was always ready and eager to see you. I always made the long trip up on the train to see you. to see my brother. to see our family. when was the last time you were in my house? when was the last time you came over just to see me?
jason I still think about you. I think about you every time I see some shitty looking craft beer at the shops. I think about the cigarettes we shared in your backyard while we were drunk. I think about when we would share a bed and end up holding hands all night. I think about the time you swore I spoke greek in my sleep. do you remember when we walked to the fish and chip shop near your dad's house and only got chips and chicken nuggets? and I spent the entire afternoon watching you play video games? do you remember when I was diagnosed with bipolar and I was looking up the symptoms when I came across an article about bipolar people losing their closest friends after getting diagnosed and medicated? do you remember how I sounded when I started crying? or when I asked if you actually liked me? do you remember telling me over and over that you loved me no matter what? that you would always be there for me? do you remember all the promises you made to me?
I don't know what I want if you ever see this. maybe I'll rage at you. maybe you'll rage at me. I'll tell you that your roommate that started this isn't being very honest about her roots. you'll probably tell me to get fucked. I'll probably call you a little cunt. but you know what is most likely going to happen? none of that at all. you probably don't care. you've moved on. you don't think about me. about the 8 years we had together. about the times I hugged you so hard I picked you up off the ground and cracked your back.
most of all, I hope you don't see this. I've come to expect the worst a lot more often since that call. I've come to fear life just a bit more than I used to. because if the people I called family - the people I had chosen to spend my time with, the people I thought I was going to know for the rest of my life - could just decide to stop loving me, stop caring enough to not realise how out of character I was acting, and choose to never speak to me again. well what fucking hope do I have for any other kind of love.
do what you want. it's been far too long since my words held any sway over your mind.
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
dededos
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
