#forest ramblings

[lost-forest-heart]

Grabs you by the shoulders

Not liking rap is absolutely no reason to not listen to Black music.

We have folk of all kinds (Mon Rovîa and Allison Russell come to mind), we have country (you have heard Darius Rucker if you listen to the radio at all), we have alt rock (De'Wayne's music is a fantastic place to start), the list goes on.

Every kind of music you listen to has roots and inspiration somewhere in Black music. Look for it. Rock and roll as you know it wouldn't exist without Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Most of the music that made Elvis himself famous was taken from Black artists. Blues and everything that came after would be nothing like you know it without Robert Johnson and countless others. It's not that you don't like Black music, you do. You listen to our music every day, you just don't know it. Start listening to it on purpose. I swear to you, we've got something you like if you'll just look.

[takeawaymymurdercats]

Started playing Clangen, already I have started crying.

First with Warriors: Untold Tales, and now with Clangen, I see two happy cats, I go "oh you're going to have wonderful lives together!" And then one DIES! Usually a very young cat too! This was in fact the case!

We had Ganderkit and Smallkit, friends since Smallkit got adopted by the clan's young deputy, Cindertuft. Ganderpaw was born into Hollowclan, whereas Smallkit was found abandoned. Nonetheless, they were quick friends, getting along far better with each other than the other kits.

As they got older, older apprentice age, Ganderpaw starts daydreaming about what having a family with Smallpaw might be like in the future, they're still super close! They both make it to be warriors, Ganderpelt and Smallpad.

They become mates.

Smallpad comes down with Greencough at 12 moons, they same moon they become a warrior. Smallpad dies at 13 moons.

AND I AM DISTRAUGHT!

screenshots under the cut:

[lost-forest-heart]

I finally finished the Monstrumologist. It's one of those series you kind of have to sit and recover from, I fear. Though I also don't believe it will go away, embedded in me like B. arawakus dwelled within Will Henry. Anyways. I'm going to go stare at the wall for a while.

[lost-forest-heart]

There's really just something about a man with such awful tunnel vision that he destroys everything and everyone he cares about for the sake of one thing he's become obsessed with until he's left with nothing but his obsession and finally it destroys him in turn.

[lost-forest-heart]

Oh, this is such a good book. I am left weeping over a man who is framed on every page as egotistical, self-centered, narcissistic. And to the target audience, a teenager with macabre interests and no doubt a handful of trauma to spark such an interest, they would be angry with Pellinore Warthrop, likely reminded of an emotionally absent parent just as I was. They would not understand the nuance of his person. But I'm grown now, I haven't read this in nearly ten years, and I now can spot very well that this doctor is no more than a boy himself, and he will never grow to be more than that. And somehow, this is more tragic and distressing to me than a man being eaten alive by maggots.

Pellinore Warthrop and Will Henry make me so inconsolably sad. They're both children. Yes, they've at least twenty years between them, but they're children. Two little boys who feel unwanted and unloved, and one is left to care for another when he was never cared for himself. Children cast forever in their fathers' shadows, waiting to be eaten alive by madness or monsters. And I somehow I get the feeling they would both prefer the monster.

[lost-forest-heart]

Chapter 22 of Inkheart is just murdering me. Gorgeous example of show don't tell with Meggie's trauma, it's heartwrenching. She's scared of strangers—a smile isn't a smile anymore, surely that person wishes her harm—a lump underneath someone's coat has her wondering if his belt bears a knife as dastardly and sharp as Basta's. All she can think of is going home and hiding away. Just look at this:

Ever since Meggie had seen Basta hold his knife to Mo's throat it had seemed as if there were a stain on the world, an ugly, dark burn mark still eating its way toward them, stinking and crackling.

Page 228. That's exactly what such condensed trauma (such as being kidnapped, in Meggie's case) feels like, especially once you're safe again. You got away, you survived—nothing will ever be the same. You can't turn off the part of your brain that feels as though it is being hunted.

And no one can convince you that the red of strawberries isn't the same as the red from your father's arm that a dog tore through.

Cornelia Funke is such a magnificent writer, it's no wonder I've looked up to her for all these years.

[lost-forest-heart]

Finally watched Sinners, holy shit. Holy fuck. Oh my gods.

[lost-forest-heart]

Mo and Dustfinger have such a fascinating relationship. Dustfinger looks at that man like he's a god, half the time. Betrays him all the same, but there's a sort of reverence there all the same, isn't there? It's distressing, it hurts me. Anyways, I'm Your Man by Mitski for Dustfinger and Mo, do you see my vision?