Ursula K. Le Guin’s writing routine

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@thureris
Ursula K. Le Guin’s writing routine
I have so much love and respect for women who are honest about their own loneliness but also find the good in it like when audrey hepburn said “I have to be alone very often. I’d be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That’s how I refuel” and when charlotte bronte said “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself” and when jenny slate said “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am. But that’s why I want to do comedy, and why I want to connect with people. You can use that ribbon to be a part of a finer tapestry, or you can choke yourself out with it! Your choice!” and when mary oliver said “whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh & exciting - over & over announcing your place in the family of things”
moomin bag that says “if you dont let me go home at the scheduled time i will kill you”
i had a thought today like man, my ancestors would probably not approve very much of me being such an extravagant glutton, but then i was like wtf are u kidding. those dumbasses didn’t live on a fuckin potato ass diet for no minimalism. they didn’t do what they did, whatever the fuck it was, for me NOT to fucking eat my bodyweight in sashimi!!! they would be fucking ecstatic to see me making the most of my opportunities for plenty. they would be fucking cheering me on. every lice-covered cossack and illiterate serf and three-toothed yak herder in my lineage is with me in this restaurant, and they are going absolutely apeshit watching me try to fit an entire samosa in my mouth
i love this idea that the ancestors are following modern people around like a rappers yes-man as we eat food #‘fucking superb you funky little descendant’
me, standing in front of the burger king counter like the blithering hunger gibbon i am: i’ll have… uhhh… double whopper with fries. thank you. large please
the 500 mongolian tatar and polish jew ghosts behind me: [ERUPT INTO WILD SCREAMING AND HIGH FIVES]
can you believe there is a painting of cossacks going hogwild out there that fits this situation perfectly
truth coming out of her well to shame mankind (tumblr safe version)
Women’s lib is cool and all but what about women’s hib? Women’s hibernation. We’re tired. Let us rest. See you in the spring
strange and weird that me not shaving my legs & leaving them in their natural fuzzy state and really never thinking about it is seen as an active choice, and maintaining nakey bald legs with careful weekly upkeep is seen as a default
““No physical danger exists,” the doctor said positively. “No ghost in all the long histories of ghosts has ever hurt anyone physically. The only damage done is by the victim to himself. One cannot even say that the ghost attacks the mind, because the mind, the conscious, thinking mind, is invulnerable; in all our conscious minds, as we sit here talking, there is not one iota of belief in ghosts. Not one of us, even after last night, can say the word ‘ghost’ without a little involuntary smile. No, the menace of the supernatural is that it attacks where modern minds are weakest, where we have abandoned our protective armor of superstition and have no substitute defense.Not one of us thinks rationally that what ran through the garden last night was a ghost, and what knocked on the door was a ghost; and yet there was certainly something going on in Hill House last night, and the mind’s instinctive refuge—self-doubt—is eliminated. We cannot say, ‘It was my imagination,’ because three other people were there too.” “I could say,” Eleanor put in, smiling, “‘All three of you are in my imagination; none of this is real.’” “If I thought you could really believe that,” the doctor said gravely, “I would turn you out of Hill House this morning.”
— Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House (via sashayed)
Moonstruck | 1987
It felt like danger. I don’t get - I don’t get it.
Candid pics? No, take cryptid pics of me. Make me as blurry as possible. My eyes glow. I’m in places I logically can’t be in.
cher is the icon women need and absolutely deserve
now that’s the mood
Apparently Ethiopian Baboons are starting to domesticate wolves, which is giving scientists new insights about what it might have been like when early humans did that. That’s cool pretty cool!
“not quite as cool as we thought!” scream scientists, as baboons riding wolves come pouring out of the forest
Medusa fragment ring. 14KY. By Sofia Ajram (source)