Grief in Three Bodies: A Conversation by Victoria Chang, Prageeta Sharma & Khaty Xiong

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blake kathryn
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we're not kids anymore.

titsay

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taylor price

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dirt enthusiast
i don't do bad sauce passes
AnasAbdin
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trying on a metaphor

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@mondgeranium
Grief in Three Bodies: A Conversation by Victoria Chang, Prageeta Sharma & Khaty Xiong
faustian bargains in the legedandarium, played straight, subverted, or rejected
Feanor and Melkor. the first of them, and rejected. Melkor comes to Feanor's door and offers the bargain, helping Feanor to escape Valinor, but Feanor sees through him and rejects him and his offer. this doesn't save him from consequences, and beforehand Melkor is forced to use indirect manipulation against him;
Celebrimbor and Sauron, subverted. even though we see most of the aspects of a bargain in this situation, included the teaching, the search for control over the earth, the ambition, the challenge to divine authority, Celebrimbor is never entirely aware of Sauron's true nature until the end of Sauron's partnership with the elves of Eregion. the deception, and afterwards the staunch resistance to torture, essentially erase the main faustian aspect: intentionally entering in a covenant with the devil at the cost of one's soul;
the Nazgul and Sauron, played mostly straight. I don't think I need to explain this one, but receiving a ring from a powerful entity that guarantees material and temporal power, as well as "immortality", is all very classic. you could argue whether there's enough deception here to not make it such a straight example, but the outcome of the trapped soul is definitely there.
Ar-Pharazon and Sauron, perhaps the single most straightforward bargain out of these. the desire for immortality and fear of death is there, the push to achieve greater things and have greater power through Sauron's strengths and counsel is there, the slow corruption and increased desire for a final sublimation that doesn't come is also there, and all in awareness of Sauron's identity, despite his deceptions.
Galadriel and Sauron, rejected. this is an almost perfect mirror of Feanor and Melkor, except for the fact that Galadriel doesn't receive the offer per se, and is left alone with having to resist her own temptation, instead of facing off the adversary right in front of her. her immediate offer is also not freedom as is Feanor's case, but power, which might make this one a truer faustian bargain than the Feanor&Melkor one.
there's other minor situations that might count (like Melkor offering the sons of Feanor a deal with regard to Maedhros, or Sauron and Gorlim), but I'm choosing to focus on those where the theme of power/of achieving something beyond one's capabilities is more at the forefront than in other types of bargains.
susanna clarke (source) u cannot just say that now i will be Thinking about it Forever
listen up chucklefucks, i just gotta say. I'm not defending zir, but I'm sad zie deactivated. Like, i get that trauma lasts a long time and the good stuff is maybe easy to forget?? so maybe it's just like that. And my beloved mutual @/pompeyspuppygirl made a post about zir clout chasing behavior, which is pretty shitty behavior if it's true (and if we're canceling someone it had better be pretty severe). anyways now that zie's gone pompeyspuppygirl said it was okay to make this post (again, thanks ppg everyone go follow her--really everyone in this whole drama is worth a follow)
ANYways yeah zie was my mutual and like, reblogged a lot my smaller posts. (that isn't to discredit what my mutual pompeyspuppygirl is saying about zie clout chasing ofc). AND idk zie was always reblogging art from new and undiscovered artists and reblogging donation posts (which if you don't know is really bad if you're trying to clout chase...) (again, though, ppg is my mutual i believe her.) and like, remember on valentines day i tried to blaze zir posts and zie told me to stop because zie didn't want the posts to go viral? (but again ppg is my mutual and has a lot of proof in the Google doc I'm not trying to disprove that I'm just saying what else I know)
Idk, like i feel like a lot of people loved zir's blog a while back, bc like zie DID make some good posts?? So idk why everybody's acting like they aren't even a little bit sad.,. like ngl this feels like maybe all the reasonable people left to Twitter and all the Twitter refugees who love drama came here??? shdfhhdhdhdhdh haha but idk...look idk, i just, julie i do miss you. idk. more thoughts later sorry I'm getting worked up shshs
Ahhh! This is so cool!
While I respect OP's right to block any interaction they want with their post, I will reiterate here: do not make the mistake of framing the assassins of Caesar as somehow Brilliant Protectors of Democracy.
Rome was not a free democracy in any way that we'd recognize as such. Their system was overwhelmingly rigged to maintain the power of the wealthy (yes I mean worse than this one, yes no I really do in fact mean that, however bad you think now is increase by like the power of ten), and had begun to break down into mob violence and populism well before Caesar was even a twinkle in his mother's eyes, and had already gone through more than one period of mass political violence and murder including violent purges and executions at the whim of a military dictator (ahhhh, Sulla).
The Senate was NOT elected by the people of Rome, and this is a very deep misunderstanding of how the Senate worked. They were INTENSELY wealthy landholders, started out as only patricians (inherited nobility, for the sake of brevity) and only later admitted EXTREMELY WEALTHY plebian families, and they were appointed by consuls. For life.
Technically, consuls were elected. Technically. But the voting in the Centuriate Assembly was by weighted voting BLOCS and it was done in an open vote - aka everyone knew who you were voting for - and the weight was OVERWHELMINGLY weighted towards the elite. Who were usually….. either from senatorial families….or aligned to them.
The Roman Senate was NEVER an elected body and it was NEVER a democratic government. It was ALWAYS a body built up of the richest and most powerful men from the richest and most powerful families of Rome, the ranks from whom the kings had been pulled before that office was ended, and their concern for "equality" was that of making sure that no other person of this rank could be above any others.
This was a group of oligarchs who were REALLY MAD that another of their number had successfully bypassed THEIR stranglehold on power via ruthless and clever manipulation of the unlanded masses of the actual City of Rome and most importantly of the Army, and become more powerful than they were, threatening their hold on the system and their claim on tradition, stabbing the heck out of him.
A couple generations previously they’d also freaked out, broken up their benches, attacked the guy who was at the head of a land reform movement that would have given farms back to the landless instead of letting it be bought up to add to the huge slave worked estates of the Senate and Equestrians, and beat him to death and threw him into the Tiber.
Don’t get me wrong: Gaius Julius Caesae was trash and his nephew was HORRIFYINGLY cold bloodedly ruthless in his subsequent quest for absolute power.
But the Senate were also trash and IF Rome had ever even briefly managed to truly serve even all its own native born people rather than being merely a brutal oligarchy rather than brutal monarchy, it was WELL over by the time Caesar got used as a pincushion.
And this is important because the use of the sanitized and tidied up version of Rome as a propaganda/cultural ideal was deliberate and specific and is also a favourite of certain flavours of the extreme right wing (Mussolini was big on the Roman Senate, actually).
If you want to draw any lesson from the Ides of March, it's that a system built substantially on political violence against opponents, based on their ability to inspire the loyalty of the masses within a population point based on the desperation of said masses to actually eat and have shelter (which is what Caesar was very good at offering, because he was rich as fuck), hinging on the loyalty of a military that saw itself as tied to its generals rather than its society, is always gonna end in a bloodbath of murder and a subsequent horrifying civil war and unrest, and we really shouldn't aspire to copy that at all.
:P
Excellent summary.
I learnt to spin in the rural Andes of Peru. I was five years old and already alarmingly behind the curve. [...] It took me over three years to become an adequate spinner. The year I was eight, my spinning was considered acceptable in quality by Andean standards (if slowly produced). Andean weavers require one type of yarn, fine and strong and smooth - and they are exacting judges, so this was no small feat. By this age, most girls in my peer group were spinning yarn for the family's weaving supply. Others had shown particular gifts for spinning and produced yarns for some of the town's finest weavers. The rest of us, the merely adequate young spinners, regarded these girls with mild awe. Although it might sound like we'd spent our childhoods being sternly schooled in how to spin (and we had), our textile activities were our primary social outlet. We went out in the Inca ruins to pasture sheep, taking our spinning and weaving with us. We raced up and down hills and terraces, played tag, and gossiped. Spinning was one more game, even though we knew it was an important life skill. Those girls who were fast, perfect spinners at that age were like the girls who could sing or dance or run the fastest, only spinning was more important than that. And we were competitive: we challenged each other to improve, constantly. By this time we were fearless with our spindles, which were never out of our hands unless we were weaving or eating. We spun while running, jumping, chasing sheep. We would pass spindles to each other while walking, talking, and spinning on them; we spun off the sides of Inca terraces, hearts pounding while the other girls watched, joking, chattering, saying, "You can't do it! It's going to break! You'll be chasing that spindle all the way down the hill!" The really good spinners never had to chase their spindles. As for me, it was a good thing I was one of the faster kids, because I chased my spindle a lot. With these games and challenges and the strict standards of our elders, even the completely average spinners among us became capable of production spinning. It was simply part of our lifestyle, as commonplace and essential as tying shoes or talking on the phone are in the industrialized world.
Abby Franquemont, Respect the Spindle
Three yaks dance in Lhasa city (cr 情满拉萨,吉吉)(If you do not reside long-term in a high-altitude environment, please avoid intense physical activity at high altitudes, as it may trigger altitude sickness.)
[Three musicians in astonishingly good chubby yak fursuits dance to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Beat it"]
ngl some of these posts sound shortsighted so i’m pulling out the Marjane Satrapi quote:
"You are American, I am Iranian, we don’t know each other, but we talk together and we understand each other perfectly. The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same."
“Private Moon” is a visual poem telling the story of a man who met the Moon and stayed with her for the rest of his life.
By Leonid Tishkov
Reading about Andreth and Aegnor while listening to Loch Lomond has me on the floor.
Tweak the words of Loch Lomond a bit and you’ll die of feels like me.
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Tarn Aeluin
Where me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Tarn Aeluin
O you take the high road, and I'll take the low road
And I'll be across the sea afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Tarn Aeluin
'Twas there that we parted, in yon shady glen
On the steep, steep side of the mountain
Where in soft purple hue, the hieland hills we view
And the moon coming out in the gloaming
O you take the high road, and I'll take the low road
And I'll be across the sea afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Tarn Aeluin
The wee bird sing and the wildflowers spring
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping
But the broken heart it kens, nae second spring again
Though the woeful may cease from their grieving
O you take the high road, and I'll take the low road
And I'll be across the sea afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Tarn Aeluin
i really fuck with it when my oomfs start their posts in media res. they'll open it with a phrase like "it's just funny because..." and then i look at their blog to see what's funny and. nothing.
It's like how Beowulf opens with a call to attention.
posting is exactly like beowulf
by Ksenia Kudashkina
Ballet, like opera, is wonderful because it is monstrous, the hyper-development of skills nobody needs, a twisting of human bodies and souls into impossible positions, the purchase of light with blood.
Irina Dumitrescu, "Swan, Late: The unexpected joys of adult beginner ballet."
Remnants of the British Black Panther’s Lost Legacy
Britain’s black power movement is at risk of being forgotten, say historians
The Cambridge academic Robin Bunce said: “There is a fundamental danger of erasing the very notion of a struggle at all. I’ve been researching this for four and a half years and there have been so many occasions when people have said to me: ‘There was no black struggle in Britain. You’re thinking of South Africa or America.’“
The narrative that feeds it is the one that Britain is the utopia of fair play. We have such a commitment to individual rights, we have such a commitment to common sense and decency that there is no systematic racism in Britain.”…
Bunce said it was not just politicians, but wider British society that would rather not dwell on the less palatable.
e.e. cummings, “who are you,little i”, Complete Poems: 1904-1962
[Text ID: “who are you,little i // (five or six years old) / peering from some high // window;at the gold /// of november sunset // (and feeling:that if day / has to become night // this is a beautiful way)”]