Vivisecting Supernatural

Wren Collins, author of the Vivisecting SPN essays. Wank-free, defensive of the show in general, and distinctly opinionated.

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LIMBO

a string of celestially blue days. walked through the city at 2pm & it was silent but for the birds, a dream city. nothing about it felt real. it was like heaven in a renaissance painting, or the end of the world. the only human figures i saw were the mannequins in the window of the abandoned art college.

take care, y’all.

https://open.spotify.com/track/5UgT7w6zVZjP3oyawMzbiK?si=4a5UfebgS76WKBPi…

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The Radiator Song

There’s a voice in my room that hums me to sleep

With songs of burnt dust and the counting of sheep.

And I dream of the woods that live by my house

Where the trees are soft and the dark is deep.

  The voice is coming

Humming, humming

From my radiator’s lungs.

My mother is concerned because

In sleep I speak in tongues.

  At school there’s a boy called Billy who reads

Books about men who make…

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um

flashing by to say

-life is mad & sleep a precious commodity

-yellow trees in the rain are one of the most beautiful things on earth

-i love my dissertation & percy shelley

-stephen king’s ‘on writing’ doth SLAP

-i spent all of yesterday writing a highly emotional 2k poem &… watching monty python & the holy grail

-an excellent winter activity is getting up sleep-deprived at 6am & writing in the…

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"the monk", 1796: so very many goddamned nuns

“the monk”, 1796: so very many goddamned nuns

i mean that literally, by the way. there are a GREAT many damned nuns in this book

several fun facts about the monk:

-every monk/nun in this book (& trust me there are many) is required to be evil or sexy or BOTH

-it is quite unbelievably kinky

-this is my flippant way of telling you that it runs the gamut from accidentally avowing oneself to the ghost of a bleeding nun to being tortured by the…

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the future of feminism? or, rise of the clay-people: a true story

the future of feminism? or, rise of the clay-people: a true story

THE SCENE:

a deep forest in the lostest part of suffolk, on a lush day in late june; a clearing in the trees. the ashes of a campfire, still gently smoking at one in the afternoon, where a huge iron pot of porridge crusts congeal in the gathering heat. a series of tents gathered round the treeline- some of them are cloth wigwams, some are bright & modern. under a wooden canopy in the distance a…

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stuff i been reading

stuff i been reading

lots of novels! which is very usual for me- less usual is that i’m not reading any poetry/plays on the side. i want to get back into my paradise lost-in-the-morning-&-poetry-at-night routine. but in the meantime: lots of novels.

-THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. as a gothic lit hoe it’s positively disgraceful i hadn’t read this before- the sui generis gothic tale! it’s silly & overblown & absolutely…

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the cobweb queen is dead! just an fyi to say that COBWEBQUEEN.COM IS NO MORE & THIS IS MY NEW ADDRESS. KNOCK HERE NOT THERE. DON'T WORRY I'M STILL ME

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ch ch ch ch changes

ch ch ch ch changes

SO:

-after a few straight months of trying-to-finish-my-novel, i am back in Weird Ould Norfolk, in rather fine fettle except from having the plague (freshers’ flu finally got me, gang) & ready to try n get back into a posting routine again.

-HOWEVER. this is going to involve probably writing about anything & everything that strikes my fancy, so probably a lot of stuff about gothic literature &…

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im back babey // late july blues

im back babey // late july blues

18.07.2019

(adele voice) hello… it’s me… da da da da da da da da da i don’t know a whole lot of that song

yes, yes, my absence has been lengthy as the mourning of a victorian spinster for her wealthy uncle, albeit a widely disliked one. second year has swept over me like a cloud of midges & left me with a financially devastating addiction to almond butter, shockingly robust mental health, & a…

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(after decimating my kingdom)

(after decimating my kingdom)

so, yesterday i went through this blog & locked about a hundred old posts, i.e most of my old spn stuff. i’d been holding off doing it because i’m still proud of the amount of time & effort i used to put into meta essays, even the ones that were completely batshit. but when i looked through them yesterday i didn’t feel like i was reading about a t.v show; i was reading my teenage psyche, as it…

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i'm a responsible adult human. yes

i’m a responsible adult human. yes

when i started writing this post i was sitting in a deli writing a blank verse epyllion whilst drinking a very blue butterfly pea latte, & since you can only say that sort of thing every so often i felt that i should take advantage of the opportunity to sound edgy & productive. however, it is now two weeks later, & i am now very hungover in my dressing-gown, annoying ANT BOILER & LCYRD by playing…

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2018: wot i read*

2018: wot i read*

*disclaimer: i have drunk a LOT of hot chocolate & this post was written on, hahahaha, a massive sugar high

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i haven’t posted in months! because i had some kind of weird insomniac episode & screwed up a coursework submission & now my uni is coming after me, & also my housing situation has gone to s h i t, & also some weird shit is going down with my Personal personal life. also i’m writing too…

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smoky days/identity theft/operation jo march

smoky days/identity theft/operation jo march

hello & welcome to your latest episode of Isabel Cannot Time-Manage For Shit

here is a picture of me trying to eat my glasses

my last post was in september. or october? anyway, since then i’ve done a bunch of dumb impulsive shit, most of which won’t make it to a public blog, & we’ve had a good deal of personal drama. also, uni’s been nuts. now i adore 19th-century russian lit, 17thc lit is…

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et in arcadia ego

et in arcadia ego

pretentiousness rating: 3 barrels of oak-smoked decade-aged ennui. we’re livin the dream.

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hello! it’s been a month!

night’s creeping in at the mo; i’m sitting by my window tryin to prop my eyes open long enough to write this.

-somehow it is late september, & late september is a good time to be in norwich. jo & i’s contra mundum month of grilled peaches & rainy days is now behind us; lucy, will…

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"brooding on the vast abyss"

“brooding on the vast abyss”

so, i just realised i haven’t posted in eleven days, whoops. i do however have an excuse: i seem, somehow, to have acquired a job. for the past five days i have been working as a paid fundraiser for a charity (which shall here go unnamed), which basically means knocking on people’s doors & asking them for money. the experience has been… mixed. it’s a really cool job in some ways- like at least…

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on heroes

i wrote this in december 2016. it’s still my hands-down favourite of my own poems although there’s probably quite a lot wrong with it.

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Now he’s a myth. A half-seen figure

alive in the heart of a green bonfire.

Spangled in glory, silver thread at his seams

edged from behind in the neon of dreams.

Handing out stars like boiled sweets

and the cosmos that tangle like hair at his feet.

  He lay down…

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