Zeffiroh - Pieces

I never asked for love,

and here I am declared as your lover.

For the soul

it's like a sweet punishment...

...but the heart's been denounced

as a criminal.

I never asked for love,

and here I am declared as your lover.

For the soul

it's like a sweet punishment...

...but the heart's been denounced

as a criminal.

This glow on your face,

it's the fault of my eyes...

...they don't move away from it.

What should I do?

It hurts like a pressed nerve,

grows like a disease...

...captures the heart and mind.

What should I do?

I never asked for love,

and here I am declared as your lover.

For the soul

it's like a sweet punishment...

...but the heart's been denounced

as a criminal.

The heart says something

but does something else.

And it doesn't understand

any amount of pressure I put on it.

You owned my thoughts back then,

but now my heart is your slave.

Since the moment the heart became

your slave, it describes the soul.

Says, (the soul) keeps flying,

and salutes young love.

Then why does this pain keeps coming up...

...heart wants to go far...

...like a poison it starts to suffocate,

what should I do?

Sometimes it feels like

giving everything I own...

...sometimes I feel like giving up

the friend himself...

...to all these questions of the heart,

what answers do I give?

I never asked for love,

and here I am declared as your lover.

For the soul

it's like a sweet punishment...

...but the heart's been denounced

as a criminal.

“Take Me To Church” by Azra T.

in the darkness of my mind I'm unraveling

From: Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. Le banquet. Paris : Moreau, 1852

PQ4316.57 .R4

Idris Khan

British, b. 1978

The Untroubled Mind, 2012

ink on gesso on aluminium 237.8 x 200 cm. | 93 ½ x 78¾ in.

Perhaps you could do one episode on what it is exactly that makes fanfiction distinct from any other kind of fiction? And I mean beyond the ol' "fanfiction is not real literature" argument. It isn't even worth dignifying.

But to really question why people place it in a category of it's own at all. Just how much literary elitism affects our perception of art & distorts our understanding of the world, & of the very concept of originality. Does such a thing as absolute originality even exist?

Nothing comes from nothing. Every story began somewhere outside of its creator's control, & they found it, remembered it, transformed it, either consciously or subconsciously. If all characters ever created are amalgamations of the people we have known (including ourselves) & characters already in existence, & the stories we conjure just byproducts of the media we consume & a point of inspiration lying somewhere between experience & fantasy (& what is fantasy if not just another story), then isnt all fiction fanfiction? Would that make the first story ever written RPF?

Anyhow, dont mind me, just talking nonsense. Fascinating stuff, transformative artistry. Love the podcast, though I have yet to listen to the episodes of writers I am unfamiliar with. Still, love the very idea of it, yaknow. Good shit.

Oooo I LOVE this comment! I could easily do a 15 minute bonus episode sometime all about this. I have so many thoughts on the very nature of fanfiction, how it stems from older folk storytelling traditions, and how modern commercialism and concepts like ownership and copyright law shape the way fanfiction is placed into a category on its own. I would agree that literary elitism fits into this with precise messaging on how they think we ought to perceive certain art forms. In many ways fanfiction is a defiant response and a continuation of the storytelling traditions humans have always participated in. Nonnie, you should come on and discuss it along with me! PM or e-mail me if you'd like to do that. I think this would make a great bonus drop. Also, thank you for the support! I'm so glad you like the idea of what the show is all about. 'Good shit' is what I aspire to. Cheers!

Hey OP? What the FUCK does this mean?

Sam, holding a gun to his/their wife's head: tell me the name of our son without looking at his overalls you blurry piece of shit

His wife: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

Sam cocking the gun, tears streaming down his/their face: I'M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

[img id - Chinese poem fragment in pixelwise origami tesselation - end id]

its the first few lines of a poem, the poem as a whole says something else, but the lines, are another story, or so i supposed.

Chinese looks funky.

[img id - the poem that was transcribed as origami , chinese script (original poem fragment extract)

意母手中線 , 進子上衣

- end id]

[img id - english translation of said fragment

a mother saw I,pulling her thread, Mending the clothes of her departing son. (this line is not in the origami)

- end id]

rain. i lyk rain.

cause im a pebble,  I grew up in the remains of a swamp, the rain always feels like home to me.

Machines

i love machines. because they are simply awsm.

machines can do clever things, if you can manage to look past the unclever things.

maybe we could make each other smile too, if we looked past our tears.