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I was writing a scene where a character is digging a grave and it occurred to me that the person digging the grave has to go in it before the real occupant ever does. No grave ever belongs to you because someone else was there first. And so I came to my friend who loves death Mr. Loveless to see if you had any interesting thoughts about graves bc I am a fan of your mind.

i think that the gravedigger is one of the kindest culturally universal figures, labouring again and again to knock on the doors to the house of death to ask if it has room for one more, carrying the dead in their shrouds like a bride to her wedding bed, with no expectations of gratitude or repayment, only the hope that someone else will venture down that path at least once to do the same for them when their own time to cross the threshold inevitably comes

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no animal was harmed during the making of this video. not one. for the few minutes that we were shooting film, the guns of each hunter fell silent. the industrial bolt throwers observed a moment's peace and the jaws of every predator hung softly open. no fish bit any hook and the bait worms held off on drowning only until the cameras stopped. the tails of ruminants ceased to flick just as their attendant flies, in unison, landed on their flanks to catch their tiny breaths. a spider instantly stopped winding silk around a wasp, patiently waiting for the caesura to end. a young veterinarian paused with the syringe in their hand. somewhere, a colicky baby stopped biting its mother's nipple and nursed happily for the very first time. we're sorry. we're sorry it couldn't have been longer. we didn't know this would happen.

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its crazy that a lot of what we call 'video essays' these days are basically low budget documentaries on increasingly weird and niche topics. no network approval no tv budget just one guy with maybe a hired editor/writer and a couple of friends willing to read voice lines. and then they put it on youtube like its no big deal. insane.

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And at last hockey returns to its tomb of endless winter, to dream its deathless dreams of ice and blood and metal. And still its servants, clad in blue and orange, say that hockey will rise again; and in distant days sticks will rattle and the vuvuzela will blow to signal the beast’s return.

But for now - for now - the ice is still. The Zamboni rests.

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So cute

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The urban fantasy show I actually want to see is a hospital drama with a dedicated wing for supernatural illnesses.

Vampirism. Lycanthropy. Cheap spells gone wrong. A woman brought in for her prenatal has to be told her baby is a lindworm. Someone is literally being followed by the anthropomorphic personification of the Black Death.

Someone somewhere out there is having their perception of the world irreparably shattered by the knowledge that magic is real, and at the other side is a team of doctors who have to roll their eyes and pull out Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales because some high school kid tried to go Carrie with a cheap spellbook and turn all the kids at prom into frogs, and the doctors have to wrangle a couple dozen teenagers into admitting if they have a true love who can break the spell.

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I am very passionate about how Portal is a very feminist game. I see a lot of people say that Portal is progressive because it could’ve had a protagonist of interchangeable gender, and that Chell being a woman affects nothing. But it completely does! Chell being a woman is inherent to the plot and theming of the narrative! Portal is progressive because it depicts corporate exploitation of women and actively shows a woman perservering and overcoming that abuse!!!

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it's okay, ulysses ogre. you can back up and try dubliners, it's a short story collection with much more straightforward prose, you can dive deep on one piece at a time, and once you've toyed around with that then I'm sure you'll have an easier time with ulysses. besides, I had an irish lit professor who'd been studying finnegans wake for twenty years and she said she still didn't really know what was going on in it. ulysses ogre, what really matters is if you are enjoying your time with literature and feel like you are gaining something, not whether you reach the "correct" conclusions. there's no need to try and force yourself through something if you feel like you aren't on an even enough plane with the text to reap any of its rewards.

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“Mythos, in Greek,” said Borges, “is not a story that is false. It is a story that is more than true. Myth is a tear in the fabric of reality, and immense energies pour through these holy fissures. Our stories, our poems, are rips in this fabric as well, however slight.”

Jorge Luis Borges, quoted by Jay Parini in Borges and Me

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hello my fellow Horror And Houses fans.... i have come to recommend the book "horror in architecture" and its sequel "horror in architecture; the reanimated edition" by joshua comaroff and ong ker-shing to you all. ive been reading horror in architecture for the past couple days and it is excellent

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I try to think about worldbuilding in terms of narratives. Like, I'll come up with some fun concept I want to explore in a setting, and then from there, I try to write a character that would explore the concept in the most interesting way.

I think this is why people get so hung up on shit like magic systems and divinities. All that shit is very abstract. I need to see how it affects the world through the lense of a fleshed-out character.

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Absolutely insane lines to just drop in the middle of an academic text btw. Feeling so normal about this.

[ A Critical History of English Literature, Vol. 1, Prof. David Daiches, first published in 1960 ]

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After way too much work I present, Big Ush

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People think haunted houses start as normal houses that ghosts eventually inhabit.

In the nineteenth century, when a lot of haunted houses were built, it was customary to build a house around a ghost to contain it to one spot. Conventional wisdom at the time had it that a loose ghost, a ghost in the fields waiting for the farmhand or on the road waiting for a passing traveller, was a terrible thing, so timbers would be raised, stone would be set, and around the ghost the house would be built, the spectre realizing too late how its prison was being woven around it.

Nowadays this is seen as a barbaric and backwards tradition. As recompense, these houses are typically sold at suspiciously low prices for families looking for a new home to call their own, in much the same way one rolls a pumpkin full of raw meat into a tiger enclosure