We are good people and we've suffered enough.
the sexual tension between me and a pretty girl on public transportation who doesn’t even notice i’m there
“As an ancient proverb says, three fingers hold the pen, but the whole body works. And aches.”
— Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose
(via mesogeios)
podcasts: death by dying
“how are you feeling? dead? that’s good. you’re off to a great start. you may be experiencing an overwhelming numbness, a desire to run, and for whatever reason, the unfading taste of your last meal…. you’ll get used to the numbness, and the taste is irrelevant, but i need you to promise me one thing: do not run.”
“ACONITE: Anna Limon. Mabel Martin. Your names filter down to me the way silt and grist and flesh filter down to the deepest parts of the ocean, the black, heaving, pressurized mass of water and lightlessness, populated only by electrical impulses and luciferin. I am the anglerfish, the wide-eyed, light-bearing harvester of the unfathomable sea, chimerical monster, woman made god. I am the eater-of-men. Anna Limon. Mabel Martin. They are saying your names in the ley-lines, in the salt-domes, in the mycorrhizal networks pulsing with memories of light. There is a girl who is king. There is a girl who is consort. They have seen the old lord toppled like so many sticks; they have come to carry us from this world into a new one. There are many creatures down here in the dark. In the black. In the wet. In the mud. Not all of them are pleased to see you.”
— Mabel, episode 33. Primogeniture. In which new strands unravel.
