Sir, That’s My Emotional Support Unrealistic Romantic Delusion

A Sentimental Soapbox Essay on Fandoms and Archives and Why Your Hyperfixation Matters

Offline, I'm a grad student/historian in training who studies a community that is systemically under-archived. A significant part of my day job involves helping that community craft the archive from what's "left" while coming to terms with what they've already lost. In the meantime, I'm also navigating how to write the dissertation I want to write without the sources I want/need.

Aside from providing the fodder for my gothic romance hyperfixation, fandoms are a breath of fresh air because they remind me that it only takes a few passionate people to build an archive and, eventually, a preservation ecosystem. It all starts with someone who records things, collects stuff, and accumulates niche knowledge--and then shares it with others--just for the joy of it.

Two episodes of a (now obscure) Jane Eyre BBC adaptation have been missing for years, and today an anonymous superfan/de facto JE adaptation archivist who never gave up announced that they've been found after all this time. Masters take the time to make elitist or ephemeral artforms like musicals more accessible for present and future generations' enjoyment and now several Phantoms who performed the role before I was even born are among my favorites. Stuff like this warms my heart as a fan, historian, and a human.

Don't take for granted that some institution is studying and stewarding that "thing" you care about. Universities, museums, and the internet are flawed systems and, yes, instruments of power and capitalism. They also just can't (and shouldn't) do it all. Preservation runs on informal archivists and spaceholders like @glassprism and @wheel-of-fish and @behindthemirrorofmusic and trading economies (in the case of POTO) and so many other people/spaces. It thrives on us investing in the things that bring us joy. And that investment doesn't have to be financial; it often just looks like collaborating with others for free and finding time to channel our intellects and energies toward what we love.

The things that matter to you...matter lol. Don't let *gestures wildly* all the stuff going in the world convince you otherwise. Now or somewhere down the road someone's going to be glad you cared this much.

The chandelier rises one last time.

Interrupting my usual POTO content to exclaim: God almighty this man!

Tess (1979)

To say music is your life is an understatement. Music is what makes you wake up each day—albeit always in darkness. It’s the living substitute for the family and friendships your face, a damning accident of birth, has denied you.

Then one day you hear her voice from your desolate hiding place. You discover music personified in the form of a grieving girl just as lonely as you are. You can't explain why you took the risk of revealing yourself to her; you only know that there’s no meaning in music anymore without that seraphic voice in your possession. Molding it, controlling it, is your closest approximation to happiness.

It doesn’t end well. Your desire turns to a murderous obsession that nearly wrecks her. You forget that that messiness of the human heart is only partly transposed in the sheet music of an opera. She isn't music personified; she’s just a woman who belongs to the living world from which you're exiled. 

Still, she shows you compassion. For a moment she sees you. In that fleeting fraction of time, she understands you better than you've bothered to understand her in your relentless quest to own her. And so you release her. With one last goodbye, she returns the ring you gave her and your eyes follow her long after her form disappears from view.

You’ve accepted it. You nod your head in resignation and kiss the ring that once touched her fingers. You'll be brave! You’ll think of her fondly and savor the fragments of her that live in your mind's eye.

Then you hear her voice again: that call that first summoned you from the darkness; the instrument that shaped you as much as it was shaped by you; the melody on which you'd set all your wretched hopes. It possesses your body as usual. As it radiates down your spine, you react like a cobra to a charmer's flute. The angelic sound seems to await your response.

But your face crumbles when her rescuer sings back. In the notes of their duet you hear all the things you can't give her, all the grief you've caused, and the sure certainty that you've lost her forever. You hang your head and realize that you're not brave; you're sorry. So very, very sorry, and...

You love her. You love her desperately!

Franz Kafka, from a letter to Milena Jesenka featured in "Letters to Milena,

I know the thesaurus abhors seeing me draw nigh

Holy Week coinciding with the anniversary of POTO's closing on Broadway is a very dark combination when you think about it.

Earl Carpenter

Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you

@whynotraisealittlehell

I have never seen Hadestown but the gifsets constantly convince me that I might not be able to handle it emotionally.

So I took him underneath my wing, And that is where he stayed, Until one day...

Melanie La Barrie as Hermes, Dylan Wood as Orpheus, Hadestown West End 2025: @callmelasagna’s master