STUDY OF THE SOUL

private writing blog for original character peter woods.

[peterwoods]

solichor​:

@peterwoods. 

     ‘ you’re welcome to browse. ’ she sees the way he eyes her selection, the rare, the regular, the new and the old; the curiosity that fails in its subtlety. the glance summer sends the spines falls just as soft as a hand cradling a drowsy cheek. 

    in a particularly tender shade of mind today, woods is quiet, pensive, and thanks her with softened eyes. as if granted access to a revived library of alexandria, his gaze respectfully meanders the titles, silent in caution of disturbing the hundreds of voices hiding behind covers. to be in the presence of so many stories - he feels his blood beat with shared life. 

   “it’s a funny thing...” he pinches at an unfamiliar thin brown book, sliding it out from between its companions. “humans, and writing. the stories we tell... the souls we encounter through text.” fingers course smoothly down a page, and the writer’s monologue grows sensitive. “how could one ever get bored of living? there’s always something new to learn.”

[peterwoods]

doodlin time

[firstfullmoon]

Life and all its good and bad and ugly things scary things which I would like to forget beautiful things which I would like to remember —the whole messy lovely true story of myself pulses within me. I believe that the sun shines if not here, then somewhere. Somewhere it rains, and things will grow green and wonderful. Somewhere inside me, too, it rains, and things will grow green and wonderful. Sometimes my insides rain from the inside out. And then I know I am alive I am alive I am alive

— Eve L. Ewing, from “Affirmation,” in Electric Arches

[11990904]

It takes courage…to endure the sharp pains of self discovery rather than choose to take the dull pain of unconsciousness that would last the rest of our lives.

- Marianne Williamson, A Return to love: Reflections on the Principles of ‘A Course in Miracles’ 

[peterwoods]

metuere​:

“Really?”

Holy shit, they have something in common. Only book she’s critically read and favorite book may not be interchangeable to most people, but it is to Spirit, right now. 

“I think a lot about the monster. And about, like, being a woman, existing and also being written existing. I don’t know. I need help thinking about it all.”

   woods smiles calmly, a subtle reflection of the bright swell of excitement in his chest. so begins spirit’s own dialogue with mary shelley. 

   “those are great starting points, though,” he encourages with his whole guiding heart, seeing a web of possible connections splay out with each seed of thought she plants. his head tilts slightly like a dog intent on hearing clearly. “what is it about the monster that intrigues you? do you sympathise with his narrative?”

[luthienne]

Frank O'Hara, from Selected Poems

[Text ID: it’s April / no May / it’s May // such little things have to be established in morning]

[modogoblin]

[luthienne]

Elena Ferrante, from Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (translated from the Italian by Ann Goldstein)

[Text ID: But what does that mean, protect, it's only a word. I could make you, now, a detailed list of all the coverings, large and small, that I constructed to keep myself hidden, and yet they were of no use to me.]

[peterwoods]

love these hans emmenegger paintings for the vibes - the trees seem to give off this sentient woods energy (ah-hah, a pun!)

[ashstfu]

marvelous, opaque, orb. night-light for the world ☾

[balkansoul-deactivated20220924]

“Compassion was the most important, perhaps the sole law of human existence.”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot (via feestje)

[donnainnominata]

Where nature has taken over

[roadmotel]

Anne Boyer, What Resembles the Grave But Isn’t

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“One of the things I try to do: memorize the smallest, most mundane and ordinary, unprepossessing, and virtually invisible of physical moments: the look and feel of a certain wall at a certain time on a certain day. Those walls, those little shacks, those cats in the sun: all that is lacking in self-consciousness I seek to hold in vision, memory. (Simple composition, color tints, a wash of light, crumbled brick, cold shadow, stillness, rose-color dirt, a twitching whisker.) Not knowing why, but thinking I may want it later, I try to keep it and I never can.”

— Michelle Anderson-Binczak, section “Chiaroscuro,” in “The Blue-Green Seas of Forever,” FragLit (Fall 2007, no. 1)

[peterwoods]

woods responding to his critics abt his gay erotic poems

[mjalti]

dont ask me what tf im talking about. i dont know ok? im just the vessel. the message has been gifted. i‘ve moved on

[nneeror-deactivated20251225-dea]