truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.
golden potato of luck, shine upon me, that I might bring good news among all I see tomorrow.
Saw "Ye Gods" and couldn't resist... how wretched 'twould be to render a Shakespearified Steamed Hams...
Julius Caesar, Act 1
We also figured out—the hard way—that the ancients probably cut each layer of linen to the proper shape before gluing them together. For our first linothorax, we glued together 15 layers of linen to form a one centimeter-thick slab, and then tried to cut out the required shape. Large shears were defeated; bolt cutters failed. The only way we were ultimately able to cut the laminated linen slab was with an electric saw equipped with a blade for cutting metal. At least this confirmed our suspicion that linen armor would have been extremely tough. We also found out that linen stiffened with rabbit glue strikes dogs as in irresistibly tasty rabbit-flavored chew toy, and that our Labrador retriever should not be left alone with our research project.
I also think about how there's the imperative of "if we don't try and try again, that wall will have no chance of it coming down. But if we keep at it, then there is always a possibility, no matter how slight."
Compare to:
We have to keep telling the story. If we don't, there's no chance for a different outcome... And I think humanity always wants to have a chance. This time, at least, our mutual striving is for continued survival... But so too did mutual striving give us this hellscape. In the grand story of humankind, we wrote the story we are now in.
Deus ex machina?
No. We haven't written ourselves into a corner, yet.
tbh I can't stop thinking about how i went into Hadestown being like "this is a tragic love story based on a greek myth I enjoy :)" and I came out the other side covered in blood being like "this is a thesis about how capitalism inevitably leads to both personal and global ruin, and so we are duty bound to resist it even as we lose, again and again and again. no matter how impossible it feels or how many times we fail and hit a wall and fall, we try again"
actually not emotional over graduating university, just over losing my jstor access
It’s crazy and fucked up that being yourself is actually the solution.
he/they | 23 | theatremaker, devil's advocate, and amateur know-it-all
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