Apparently Boomer Democrats Are Having Meltdowns Over A Gen-z Progressive Who Is Primarying An 80 Year

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I'm half way down with Frankenstein and I swear to god, if they bully my son Creature ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I'm going to kill everyone in this room and then myself

when a house is both hungry and awake, every room becomes a mouth

EROS, ARROWS Shinji Moon 

slaughterhouse mouth, your throat-cutters tongue; as the sky let down its snow-filled skirts our feathers shifted south, pale coats hung,  the radiator shifting,              shuck                                                      suck                                                               shuck. 

oh moan your hands off; take my mouth off;  your teeth are geese; my teeth are take-offs;  with your inside voice, my inside hands, I ask:          baby, let me rearrange                   your bones off. 

Love is a shambling thing, gray-faced and gasping.

It moves in from the west, the setting sun behind it. Those who see it avert their eyes.

Love stumbles and shutters, Love grasps but is not grasped. It sees a man, and the man does not look away.

Love reaches out a gray hand.

The man touches the hand just lightly, just on the palm, and the man feels heat inside of him. His heart is on fire.

This is not a metaphor.

His heart is on fire and so, soon, is his skin, his hair, his teeth become more and more visible as his face shrinks and melts away.

Love watches dispassionately. Love does not love what it does, Love only does it. Love does not have eyes and neither, now, does the man.

Love is a shambling thing.

It climbs through a window into an infant’s bedroom.

When one of the mothers comes in to check on her baby son, there is love, too, in the crib, curled up inside him.

Love murmurs, and the baby spits restlessly. The baby does not burn, the baby will eventually burn, but by then he will not be a baby.

The woman looks down at the ghastly form of Love curled up beside her son and she thinks, “What have I done?” She cries, not because she is happy or sad, but because that is what her body needs to do next.

Love rises from the crib and passes her without a glance.

Love is a shambling thing. It shambles out of her home.

Love, with skin that peels and pops and joints that moan and snap, climbs to the top of a tall building and surveys its surroundings. So many people.

It opens its mouth. Its teeth are the only part of its body that look new and healthy.

It has so many teeth...

It yelps and howls, an inarticulate sermon of lost and loss, and everyone hears it. They hear it as a shudder in their stomach and hitch in their step.

Love does not eat or drink, love separates its many teeth and consumes.

Love is a shambling thing, grey-faced and gasping.

It moves out to the east, the night drawing closed behind it. Those who see it avert their eyes.

standard exam

1. “…and your mother said ‘Happy birthday. I am sorry to inform you that everyone you love is dead’”

Explain, with reference to Sylvia Plath’s first suicide attempt and subsequent admittance to hospital, the relevance of the quote above to your childhood, when, upon seeing the brilliant blue of a butterfly’s wings— (10 marks)

2. Should a poet’s work be

enjambed or read in sequence? Examinees are encouraged to utilise essay structure and one reference to Walt Whitman in their answer. (5 marks)

3.  There’s stardust in our eyes and laughter on our lips,

Over and over again the orchestra plays our last dance:

Amor, amor, amor— (10 marks)

4.  They saw that post you made last night, when you thought they had gone to sleep and you could let the hurt bleed.

Give up. It’s over. You’re over.

A person who has feelings is a ruined person unless they keep their mouth shut - which is exactly what you didn’t do.

(5 marks)

5. I hold stars for the gods, their flashing eyes are nebulae, colours blooming against the universe; their council is the companion of beauty and destruction.  The moirai, with their pale fingers, trace my body, as cold and unfeeling as porcelain, each brush a calculation and every new line a fate thrown into existence. They cut my golden hairs one by one; there is no string of fate, destinies are written in my stars—

(10 marks)

6.  “You trace my scars like you could brush them away and wipe the blood from my mouth as if it would remove the wounds on my lips.” Discuss this statement, with evidence cited from the decline of the relationship between Lucien Carr, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg to support your conclusion.  (5 marks)

7.  “Now the sky is still heartbreakingly blue. It’s a blue that lovers kiss under, in the cooling summer air, the kind that drags itself across the skin of my body and leaves a trail of goose bumps to hint at its existence. It’s so quiet I can hear the radio playing somewhere. It’s singing about people, and about feelings… feelings about people. It’s warbling words of love and murdering us with words edged like an axe. It’s crooning the song of death.”

Do you agree?  (20 marks)

8. Cassandra was gone long before her death, murmuring words, and words, and words; and her mind falling as Apollo watched her beauty heighten in her madness, and the truth will always be madness, but when she died with screams on her lips, she could not help but be satisfied with her choice, though it may never have been hers, because she cannot be her own person any more than you can stand to keep away from blades, do you understand please do you understand— (10 marks)

9. Is opinion a requirement for literature? Are you? (15 marks)

10.  If, at 5 A.M. on a Monday morning I still haven’t slept and countless cups of coffee have cooled in my hands, but I’m still reaching for your number in my phone even after you told me “never again”:

(i)                 Explain why the French Revolution was an amalgamation of poor leadership, economic troubles and enlightened thinking, making sure to provide sufficient illustration of the dramatic irony and use of paradox used by the authors of the nightmare you had two hours ago every night but never wake from.

(ii)               Draw the colour of your soul.

(10 marks)

—

BONUS QUESTIONS:

Shouldn’t you have learnt by now? (25 marks) Death won’t get an A on your exam. (25 marks) If I don’t exist, how do I know about me? (25 marks) Please? (25 marks) —

All working must be demonstrated. All questions must be answered. Illegibility will be penalised.

-E.C.

“1. “…and your mother said ‘Happy birthday. I am sorry to inform you that everyone you love is dead’” Explain, with reference to Sylvia Plath’s first suicide attempt and subsequent admittance to hospital, the relevance of the quote above to your childhood, when, upon seeing the brilliant blue of a butterfly’s wings—(10 marks) 2. Should a poet’s work be enjambed or read in sequence? Examinees are encouraged to utilise essay structure and one reference to Walt Whitman in their answer.(5 marks) 3. There’s stardust in our eyes and laughter on our lips, Over and over again the orchestra plays our last dance: Amor, amor, amor—(10 marks) 4. They saw that post you made last night, when you thought they had gone to sleep and you could let the hurt bleed. Give up. It’s over. You’re over. A person who has feelings is a ruined person unless they keep their mouth shut - which is exactly what you didn’t do. (5 marks) 5. I hold stars for the gods, their flashing eyes are nebulae, colours blooming against the universe; their council is the companion of beauty and destruction. The moirai, with their pale fingers, trace my body, as cold and unfeeling as porcelain, each brush a calculation and every new line a fate thrown into existence. They cut my golden hairs one by one; there is no string of fate, destinies are written in my stars— (10 marks) 6. “You trace my scars like you could brush them away and wipe the blood from my mouth as if it would remove the wounds on my lips.” Discuss this statement, with evidence cited from the decline of the relationship between Lucien Carr, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg to support your conclusion. (5 marks) 7. “Now the sky is still heartbreakingly blue. It’s a blue that lovers kiss under, in the cooling summer air, the kind that drags itself across the skin of my body and leaves a trail of goose bumps to hint at its existence. It’s so quiet I can hear the radio playing somewhere. It’s singing about people, and about feelings… feelings about people. It’s warbling words of love and murdering us with words edged like an axe. It’s crooning the song of death.” Do you agree? (20 marks) 8.Cassandra was gone long before her death, murmuring words, and words, and words; and her mind falling as Apollo watched her beauty heighten in her madness, and the truth will always be madness, but when she died with screams on her lips, she could not help but be satisfied with her choice, though it may never have been hers, because she cannot be her own person any more than you can stand to keep away from blades, do you understand please do you understand—(10 marks) 9. Is opinion a requirement for literature? Are you? (15 marks) 10. If, at 5 A.M. on a Monday morning I still haven’t slept and countless cups of coffee have cooled in my hands, but I’m still reaching for your number in my phone even after you told me “never again”: (i) Explain why the French Revolution was an amalgamation of poor leadership, economic troubles and enlightened thinking, making sure to provide sufficient illustration of the dramatic irony and use of paradox used by the authors of the nightmare you had two hours ago every night but never wake from. (ii) Draw the colour of your soul. (10 marks) — BONUS QUESTIONS: Shouldn’t you have learnt by now? (25 marks) Death won’t get an A on your exam. (25 marks) If I don’t exist, how do I know about me? (25 marks)Please? (25 marks) — All working must be demonstrated. All questions must be answered. Illegibility will be penalised.”

— standard exam, E.C.

i dont think i ever posted this here but i adore the idea of splicing together bumper stickers

People do not see masculinity as being as fluid and complex and nuanced as femininity and it’s annoying as hell. Because of patriarchy’s stranglehold on masculinity and radfem theory’s stranglehold on queer spaces, people really think with their whole heart that only femininity is subversive or experimental, or frankly, queer, and that masculinity is only a power grab and nothing more. Embarrassing!

LOVE IS A SHAMBLING THING, GREY FACED AND GASPING

Welcome to Night Vale Fanart <3

sweet little teddy based on the valentines bears from night vale valentines traditions, and the depiction of Love from the official valentine’s day slogan in episode 102, Love Is a Shambling Thibg

the teeth are from an opossum that died in my front yard, they came to good use!

fuck these fascists