Vamphorricgooner - Melt Into Air

Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

i'm tired of reading about women having unfulfilling sex with their male partners and religious guilt and how the internet is affecting our ability to connect with each other and ultraspecific references to name-brand products and disaffected writers writing disaffected prose about how disaffected they are and thinly-veiled elite university campuses and conspicuously nameless first-person protagonists and bargain bin nihilism and sparse utilitarian language and marriage plots and conflicted feelings about motherhood and metacommentary and vaguely liberal politics. i want to read just one beautiful sentence

— February 19, 1922 | Franz Kafka diaries

no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak

the epic highs and tragic lows of literally just being in my head on a perfectly normal day

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.