[sad-house-of-mortality]

images by Amy Haslehurst

[hide-and-seekrets]

apologies to anyone who ever thought i was cool and reached out to me only to discover i am just a weird little hermit who can’t carry on a conversation to save my life

[faintquiverings]

Tina Aumont in her apartment in Paris, 1972

[adrasteiax]

“When silence returns, it’s three times greater. The rise & fall of waves, the rise & fall… (…) Wherever I go I find people who hurt each other to feel alive.”

— Yusef Komunyakaa, from Under The Harbour Bridge in “Pleasure Dome: New And Collected Poems”

[sun-death]

“What fascinates us is always that which radically excludes us in the name of its internal logic or perfection: a mathematical formula, a paranoic system, a concrete jungle, a useless object, or, again, a smooth body, without orifices, doubled and redoubled by a mirror, devoted to perverse autosatisfaction. It is by caressing herself, by the autoerotic maneuver, that the striptease artist best evokes desire.”

— Jean Baudrillard, For a Critique of the Political Economy of the Sign (Trans. Charles Levin)

[tristealven]

“I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration (via unpetalled)

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

Postcolonial Love Poem, ‘Wolf OR-7′ by Natalie Diaz

[ID: I confuse instinct for desire - isn’t bite also touch?]

[holyfoal-moved-deactivated20230]

nancy lee, analysis from "what hurts going down" (2020)

[soporificsedatives-deactivated2]

Take Care: Mothers, Daughters, and Inheriting Self-Hatred, Ella Wilson

[soracities]

when e.e. cummings said “i’ll live my life if it kills me”

[softspringsolace]

when andrea gibson said “i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.” & when ellen bass said “to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it”

[hapless-hollow]

If I were in a romantic relationship with you - and I told you that I was sad. If I told you that I have longings and needs and desires. Would it not be considered a type of emotional abuse for you to tell me that I don’t have a right to those needs or desires? Or that I shouldn’t feel sad?

So then, why is it ok for complete online strangers to constantly push their toxic positivity onto you when you need to be loved, outside of their demand that the ONLY love a person needs is self love? Why is it ok for a complete stranger to tell you that you should not feel pain or sorrow, and that you should abandon such feelings and put on a smile, no matter what you feel?

It’s not.

Has the world forgotten that we’re all living breathing humans? (aka: not robots) That the human condition consists of a need of love and touch and self expression. That touch and love play a primary role in the development of a person’s well-being. (don’t believe me? look it up.) That holding onto emotional pains and distress can actually make you physically ill. And it’s important not to bury such feelings under false happiness.

Great if it works for you, but don’t silence/condemn others for wanting to express and develop something that suits their longings and desires. That would HELP them, not stunt them, into growing into a mentally sound individual. Everyone has a right to their feelings, and no one should have to pretend to be some self fulfilled, happier and more shallow version of themselves to fit into your world.

Yes, I agree, it’s good to learn certain coping mechanisms and learn to love yourself, learn to be strong and interdependent. However, these systems shouldn’t drown out basic human needs.

No one ever said drink the whole bottle of medicine, friends - one tablespoon is more than enough.

[soracities]

“They misunderstood each other permanently, but as a new kind of square dance: even when misunderstanding each other, he felt they were beholden to the rules of a game, as if they’d agreed to misunderstand.”

Clarice Lispector, “Evolution of a Myopia” (trans. Katarina Dodson)

[gothish]

“how do i attain this aesthetic” do ya’ll not know how to be yourselves like wtf lol

[libertineangel]

The way modern social media has reified “aesthetic” as something more than just people looking a certain way seems to have really fucked up a whole lot of people’s perceptions of what self-expression is and how to go about it, making it no longer just a matter of doing and being who you want but a performative presentation of the semi-fabricated self-as-object for consumption by some hypothetical audience.

Subculture has always been a thing but it began as a means of expressing and indicating shared ideas and interests, whereas now it seems commodified to the point where all any modern subcultures are expressing is what products and internet trends participants prefer to consume, and that’s not identity so much as marketing.

[sun-death]

“A headless torso, streaming blood into the circuitry of oceans, enthusing with the waters of the inhuman and alien, a merging, crosscontamination, the mass of the schizophrenic is a sacrifice to nothingness itself, to give all possibility and potentiality of self over to something not greater than one, nor lesser, but over to a chasm of bellowing laughter, possession by the unknowable, incalculable and uncorrelatable.”

— James Ellis, A Methodology of Possession: on the philosophy of Nick Land

[wavesofexulansis]

“Similarly, I did not like to dance or do sports. I did not listen to the Beatles or watch Ed Sullivan on TV. I wasn't interested in fun or popularity back then. I preferred to read about ancient times, distant lands. Knowledge of anything current or faddish made me feel I was just a victim of isolation. If I avoided all that on purpose, I could believe I was in control.”

Otessa Moshfegh, Eileen

[wavesofexulansis]

“All I had to offer were my skills as a doormat, a blank wall, someone desperate enough to do anything—just short of murder, let's say—simply to get someone to like me, let alone love me.”

Otessa Moshfegh, Eileen

[washingtonbullets]