personally i’m a fan of when a story is like. the love was there. unfortunately. this all could have actually gone a lot easier for everyone if the love hadn’t been there but here we are
best thing tumblr ever did for me is the term "rotating it in my mind". it's really true that sometimes you think about something real hard but you can't tell what the thoughts are exactly. it's revolutionary stuff, i might even say
as a child being told "the moon controls the tides" with no additional explanation was like. oh okay. you want me to believe in magic? you're talking about magic right now? okay. fine
the cinematic migraine experience of spending the entire day like “why do i feel so bad so Suddenly what the fuck Triggered This what did i DO” and then hearing an ominous clap of thunder. and being like. ah. barometric pressure
I’m reading some Victorian trash and have found what might be my all time favourite overly-elaborate novel frame story - So we open on a man who's about to move to a new apartment. His friends throw him a party, and at that party they decide to have a seance even though none of them believe in ghosts. Surprise! Ghosts are real. even though this novel is NOT about ghosts (it's about mad science.) Soon the ghost gets tired of table turning and demands a typewriter, and there’s a bunch of fucking around finding the ghost the right kind of typewriter (the ghost insists it has to be some specific obscure brand, and no, this has no bearing whatsoever on the story.) It takes ages. Finally, the ghost possesses one of the guys in order to use the typewriter and it turns out the thing the ghost writes is the entire rest of the novel.
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