dionysian-madness

[dionysian-madness]

finding old stories you wrote when you were 12 and realizing you wrote better back then

[dionysian-madness]

Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish is dear to me, and I will defend it.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

[dionysian-madness]

“The real monster was actually—”

NO NO NO STOP STOP STOP YOU MISSED THE POINT YOU MISSED THE POINT

The characters of Frankenstein are all complex, and saying “this one was the super evil bad one” is a pretty regressive way of looking at the story.

(Srsly, going “this one is evil” is what the 1931 movie did. Do you want to be like the 1931 movie?)

Edit for clarification: The part at the top is meant to refer to people who say that Victor was the real monster.

[dionysian-madness]

literary analysis is dead becuz u legit get people like "this character is a bad character because they made a decision or a mistake that resulted in a problem that must be repaired within the narrative" like yes Jennifer that's called conflict and its integral to every story that exists ever.

[dionysian-madness]

Instagram: dark.academia.fashion Flickr: William Stern

[dionysian-madness]

[dionysian-madness]

From: Galileo Galilei, Sidereus nuncius, Tommaso Baglioni, Venezia, 1610

[dionysian-madness]

Musei Capitolini, Roma

[dionysian-madness]

so i started watching the fran lebowitz show and .. yeah. everyone say thank u fran <3

[dionysian-madness]

[dionysian-madness]

“Listening to the ocean’s secrets.”

— Qin Zihao, tr. by Jeanne Tai, from “Seashells I,” written c. March 1952

[dionysian-madness]

dark academia films

kill your darlings - meeting in bars, upbeat jazz music, scathing kisses under trees, writing poems unrestrained, frantic hands on a typewriter, a vision by john keats, getting high with art and words and yearning, hands pounding the table like drums, reading forbidden books, reciting vulgar words, cigarette smoke and upturned wine glasses, attempting to hang yourself for the fun of it— to become reborn, ripped pages from books stuck on walls, of naked bodies, secret rendezvous in libraries, holding a darling lost love at sea

the imitation game - static beeps of morse codes, solving crossword puzzles, the sound of pencil on paper, millions and millions of patterns, the constant hum of machines, the elegant scrawl of equations on a blackboard, peas and carrots, secret meetings late at night, the imminent war— war declared, breaking enigma, encrypting and decrypting messages day and night, half-eaten apples, exchanging coded messages, paperclip rings, a lonely figure and his machine

maurice - light footsteps in darkened hallways, discussions of philosophy and life, rolling in the grass, the melodious tune of a piano, breathless laughter, the playful antics of two men— in love, a counter-love, ‘the love of boys’, beloved hands stroking soft hair, the lowly creak of a chair, hesitant embrace, awkward confessions, rolling in the grass, with the cacophony of nature interwoven, letters of yearning, an unspeakable— of the oscar wilde sort, of bitter farewells, sneaking inside of windows, an abandoned boathouse, a lasting kiss

[dionysian-madness]

the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.

[dionysian-madness]

“You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago.”

— Alida Nugent

[dionysian-madness]

can I skip to the part where I live in a Victorian castle, own a secret library and keep meeting new people?

[dionysian-madness]

perfect couple: one person has cold hands, the other has warm hands. together, they maintain the ideal temperature for hand holding

[dionysian-madness]

a gentle encounter

instagram | twitter | shop | commission info