Y’all It’s So Important To Know In DETAIL The Expensive Stuff You Like. Don’t Let That Man Ask

types of academia pt. 2

art: paint dried at the cuffs of your favorite jacket, ink smudged hands, your notebooks are just sketchbooks for your class doodles with notes crammed in between the drawings, sudden revelations, wanting to create something meaningful with your own two hands, thinking of pygmalion during your sculpting class, reading a book and coming across that one sentence that sparks the inspiration for your next piece, afternoons on a soft green hill sketching, the scent of jasmine on the breeze, the music blaring in your headphones is all you can hear or feel as you work through the night, laying under the starlight

writer: the sound of a pen against parchment, the glow of a computer screen in a dark room, the sound of a clock ticking away the hours, reading with a hunger that will only be satisfied once you can give shape to your own words, empty notebooks, notebooks full of poetry, forgotten ideas that were not written down, your notes app is full of poetry, rainy days full of time spent typing away, living every experience in its rawest fork because you know you can write about it later, “write what you know” so you try to know everything, dreaming through your characters eyes, you and the moon have become good friends after nights spent writing under her light and reading your prose out loud

romantic: sketches of your love in a sketchbook that’s falling apart, singing to the moon at night, reciting sonnets alone in the woods, linen and silk, bathed in golden light, wax seals on love letters, pressed flowers in a journal, wanting to catch the stars and put them in the eyes of the one you love, the sweet scent of roses, ivy crawling up a cobblestone wall, a garden full of statues and plants that flint silver in the moonlight, sweet milk tea, daydreaming in a meadow

sci-fi: stargazing is a personality trait, deteriorating copies of sci-fu novels, coffee stained science magazines, a cork board full of conspiracies, squinting at the sky in search of life, believing there’s something more, tangled headphones, leather-bound dream journal, fog filled nights, psychoanalyzing, sticky note with the names of different theories scribbled on it that you need to research later, scrolling through wikipedia pages under your blanket when you should be sleeping, walkie talkies, a head full of wonder

urban: city lights blazing like stars, briskly walking down streets through the crisp air, drizzle fogging your glasses, hands in the pockets of a frayed coat, the overt dichotomy of light and dark, shadows in alleys and buzzing neon signs, dim bars and lit apartment windows, a small book shop crammed between a starbucks and bank, going to a vintage movie theater at the center of the city, mornings spent at the museum that’s free before noon, nights snuggled up in a blanket in your small, overpriced apartment as you read a book near the window and watch the city breathe

pt. 1

“I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am. You take away my conscience, my ability to empathize, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation for the little things, my vivid inner life, my deep awareness of others’ pain, and my passion for it all.”

small things to add to a hand written letter:

a teabag of your favourite tea

heart shaped note with cute drawings

stickers on the outside of the letter, and inside

handmade paper doll

small print or postcard

a sketch or a little painting or a poem

glitter or sequins or pearls or buttons

small candies or bubblegum

cut out magazine pictures or articles

folded paper, like origami

textile like small ribbons or clothing patches

coins or flat things found in a souvenir shop

pressed flower or leaf

I wish everyone would admit that classic literature is inherently difficult to read, and that you shouldn’t feel stupid if you don’t “get it”. Especially the dark academia/ classic lit fandoms and stuff. Like unless you have the vocabulary and pop culture knowledge of an 18th century nobleman, it’s going to be a tough read. It’ll take you longer to read; you’re not stupid if you’ve spent several months on a single book! And you don’t have to enjoy everything. It’s okay if you got bored after one chapter of Wuthering Heights, and couldn’t be bothered to read the rest. It’s okay if you want to read your favourite kids book for the 10th time instead. You’re not stupid. No piece of literature is inherently better, more “important”, more “meaningful”, or more “intellectual” than another. First and foremost, read what brings you joy.

these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die; like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume.

— William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet.

the statues of apollo and athena, at the academy athens, in a full moon night.

‘A Room with a View’ by E. M. Forster (published in 1908)

to want and be wanted

georges bataille / emily palermo / olivia laing / @chaandajaan / georges bataille / cj hauser / @kvetchkween / @nicholasbraungf / vi khi nao / silas denver melvin