Clarice Lispector, From An Apprenticeship, Or The Book Of Pleasures (trans. Stefan Tobler) [ID'd]

“AM could not wander, AM could not wonder, AM could not belong. He could merely be. And so, with the innate loathing that all machines had always held for the weak, soft creatures who had built them, he had sought revenge.”

Harlan Ellison, I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I think about freedom of destruction every day

has anyone figured out how to be a real person yet

Coiffure Avant-Garde: A Symphony of Strands by 999999999sx

The Thing

Somewhere, sometime, for no actual reason.

(who needs a reason?)

The reason for existence could be the existence itself.

No beginning, no end.

Infinity and eternity.

Time passes, nothing changes, nothing ever changes.

Yet everything is brand new.

Unknown, unfamiliar, alien.

Doesn't live, never die, just remains.

Somewhere...

Sometime...

Far away and right outside the window.

Awaiting...

They call it evil, but it is neutral.

Objective and just.

Unbiased.

Awaiting...

No need to be afraid.

Arial B.

December 2024

diagram of the lunar cycle from a children's book on calendars, necia h. apfel, 1985.

David Lynch + the road at night

Blue Velvet (1986) Wild at Heart (1990) Lost Highway (1997) Mulholland Drive (2001) Twin Peaks: The Return (2017)

Total solar eclipse, August 30th 1905

Via:Publications of the U.S. Naval Observatory Second Series, vol. 10

You had to let go of something great Of something that could have been Worth the wait But I dislike For you have always been right That we did need this break Since realizations have come to the surface That we deserve not to tolerate

It was indeed for the best of us. One should not sacrifice their dreams and lean too much on uncertainty. The other should not let their uncertainty be molded, sacrificed as a pleaser, or become too influenced into the dreamer’s dreams. None deserves the extent of pain. So, beloved, may you find a person whose dreams align with yours and form a bond so covalent that it won’t ever equate to the pang of our heartbreak. I will be rooting and cheering for you in the tiny corner of your heart, mind, body, and soul. For our mere platonic love is a rarity—a gift. Perhaps, in due time, when our hearts mend and stop the search of our lost potentials—our could’ve been’s—and our hearts learn selflessly nothing but the true happiness of one another, then our friendship can be restored.

Because I would love to just have a conversation with you about existence and other insane topics that late poets have talked about.

— The Final Apology and the Chance of Reconciliation