Ahem-
‘From a swamp, evil, viscous,’ Osip Mandelstam (translated by A. S. Kline)
I really think everyone needs to truly internalize this:
Fictional characters are objects.
They are not people. You cannot "objectify" them, because they have no personhood to be deprived of. They have no humanity to be erased. You cannot "disrespect" them, because they are not real.
The Wind-Up Doll
More than this, yes more than this one can stay silent.
With a fixed gaze like that of the dead one can stare for long hours at the smoke rising from a cigarette at the shape of a cup at a faded flower on the rug at a fading slogan on the wall.
One can draw back the drapes with wrinkled fingers and watch rain falling heavy in the alley a child standing in a doorway holding colorful kites a rickety cart leaving the deserted square in a noisy rush
One can stand motionless by the drapes—blind, deaf.
One can cry out with a voice quite false, quite remote "I love..." in a man's domineering arms one can be a healthy, beautiful female
With a body like a leather tablecloth with two large and hard breasts, in bed with a drunk, a madman, a tramp one can stain the innocence of love.
One can degrade with guile all the deep mysteries one can keep on figuring out crossword puzzles happily discover the inane answers inane answers, yes—of five or six letters.
With bent head, one can kneel a lifetime before the cold gilded grill of a tomb one can find God in a nameless grave one can trade one's faith for a worthless coin one can mold in the corner of a mosque like an ancient reciter of pilgrim's prayers. one can be constant, like zero whether adding, subtracting, or multiplying. one can think of your --even your—eyes in their cocoon of anger as lusterless holes in a time-worn shoe. one can dry up in one's basin, like water.
With shame one can hide the beauty of a moment's togetherness at the bottom of a chest like an old, funny looking snapshot, in a day's empty frame one can display the picture of an execution, a crucifixion, or a martyrdom, One can cover the crake in the wall with a mask one can cope with images more hollow than these.
One can be like a wind-up doll and look at the world with eyes of glass, one can lie for years in lace and tinsel a body stuffed with straw inside a felt-lined box, at every lustful touch for no reason at all one can give out a cry "Ah, so happy am I!"'
- Forough Farrokhzad
i hate loving characters bc im so bad at talking about them so i just scream for 12 hours straight having said nothing of substance.
when I want to write and desperately need to write and am aching to write because my body feels all wrong if I don't write and I still end up not touching my fucking Google Docs
responses to someone who punched you
Responses to Being Punched
-> feel free to edit as you see fit.
"What the shit, dude?"
"You're going to have to hit a little harder if you want to do some real damage."
"This isn't a fair fight."
"I'm giving you one last chance to walk away."
"This is about to get ugly."
"If [Name] wasn't here right now, you'd be dead."
"Just wait."
"Punch me again, see what happens."
"Wow."
"Jesus Christ, are you wearing brass knuckles?"
"When the cops show up, you're going to tell them that you started this."
"You're dead."
"Woah, woah, woah, let's not jump to any extremes."
"What did I do?"
"Um, ow."
"I probably deserved that."
"I think you broke my nose."
"Was that a 'hey, buddy, how are you?' kind of punch or a 'I'm about to mess you up' kind of punch?"
"Whatever you think I did, I didn't do it."
"Well, I don't think I deserved that."
"You hit surprisingly hard."
"That felt like being kissed by a butterfly, are you serious right now?"
"I guess you're waiting for me to apologize?"
"If that's your way of saying sorry, I don't think it's going to work."
great, my post is in some sort of dungeon
Mohammed El-Kurd, from Rifqa
*sweating, whole body shaking while I stare at a google doc* would he fucking say that????
Robert Goolrick, from The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life
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