#How to Not Be Afraid of Everything

[whisperthatruns]

My mother fills an empty can of soup with water and swirls it, until each speck of oil catches. How beautiful, this twinkling tin. I have always loved what most people throw away: broccoli stems, fish heads, the white of green onions and its dangling foot like an anemone, the rat tail of a radish. I dream of boiling the salty shells of pistachios. Of gorging myself with compost, slick with nutrients.

Jane Wong, from “When You Died,” How to Not Be Afraid of Everything (Alice James Books, 2021)

[judgingbooksbycovers]

​How to Not Be Afraid of Everything

By Jane Wong.

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[yumi-reads]

“Once, when I was four, I poured Carnation condensed milk all over my face. I was as white as I’ll ever be. Eyelashes of cream, I blinked on, too ghostly for my own good.”

— excerpt from ‘When You Died’, How to Not Be Afraid of Anything by Jane Wong

[stil-lindigo]

the fields.

a comic about sheep.

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creative notes:

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The collection this comic is part of is available to buy now! 100% of profits will be donated to Medical Aid for Palestinians, the PCRF and CareforGaza in a 40/40/20 split.

BUY HEART-EATERS NOW

[anbaisai]

Love languages

Happy Valentine's Day! ❤

[turtletoria]

the krampus incident from the book of bill if it was out of character and stupid

[clumsy-mudpuppy]

you cant tell me they walked away from the kidnapping like nothing. i am beaming them the nightmares

(gricko tries to be strong, for hootsie. he wants to reassure her that she's safe. but he needs the reassurance just as badly.)

[ask-the-pioneer]

you're a good kiddo

[willowser]

aww, you agree to stay home with your son until he becomes old enough to go to school, but as the summer ends and time draws near for registration, katsuki starts backtracking.

your son has a quirk. it's not so fancy as his father's, but it's more exciting than what you have, and even though he's big into katsuki's heroism, he hasn't shown any more interest in becoming a hero himself than any other boy his age.

at first you think it's katsuki getting nervous about putting him in public school, but he still doesn't seem sold on any of the private teachers you find. you want to go back to work, and it's not that he's telling you no—but there's just this edginess to him, whenever you push the conversation.

"still small," katsuki defends, murming into your hair as you're laying in bed. "another year 'n he'll be a lil' bigger."

it's true—your son is a little on the small side, but he has all the energy and determination of a kid twice his size. it's never stopped him before, nor has it ever had katsuki pulling him off the playground in the past; you're not sure why it matters, now.

"you said that last year."

"yeah, but he didn't grow that much."

"i don't think there's a height restriction for learning, honey."

katsuki sighs, and you can feel the frown pulling his mouth down. it's rare that he ever tip-toes around what he wants to say these days, more common when you first began dating, but he's always been vocal when it comes to your son. always wanted what was best for him, and didn't hesitate to ask for it.

you shift, scooting your head up his arm so you can look at him. "what're you really thinking?"

he doesn't look back at you, but instead keeps his eyes on the wall across from your bed. you can't exactly see the depth in them this way, but something about the tension lining his body tells you he's thinking, hard, about something other than your son.

"kids are assholes."

you laugh, because it's not what you were expecting and because you don't like whatever this is that's bothering him. you want it to go away. "yeah, i know. our kid is an asshole sometimes."

"well, i don't want someone being an asshole to our kid."

your stomach drops at the very idea of someone being mean to your son, not appreciating him the way he should be. what if he gets hungry and they don't let him eat? what if he has to go to the bathroom but he doesn't know where it is?

if you think about this for any longer, you'll burst into tears, and that will only further katsuki's case.

"kids just..." he shakes his head and glances towards the door of your bedroom, down the hall to where your son is sleeping. "say all kinda' shit. hateful shit."

you hug him a little tighter, because you know how much he hates feeling powerless—and that’s exactly how you feel, when it comes to this topic, but if you focused only on the negatives, you wouldn't ever let your son out of sight.

"he'll make friends, though, like you did." your words only make his frown deeper. "and he wants to learn, he is so curious about everything. i think he's ready, honey."

—but katsuki only grits his jaw, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he looks away from you and towards the window.

"well, i dunno if i am."

[whisperthatruns]

After Preparing the Altar, the Ghosts Feast Feverishly

How hard it is to sleep in the middle of a life. — Audre Lorde

We wake in the middle of a life,                    hungry. We smear durian            along our mouths, sing soft death a lullaby. Carcass breath, eros of  licked fingers and the finest perfume. What is love if  not         rot? We wear the fruit’s hull as a spiked crown, grinning in green armor.   Death to the grub, fat in his milky shuffle! Death to the lawlessness       of dirt! Death to mud and its false chocolate!   To the bloated sun we want to slice open and yolk                      all over the village. We want a sun-drenched           slug feast, an omelet loosening its folds like hot Jell-O. We want the marbled fat of steak and all        its swirling pink galaxies. We want the drool, the gnash, the pluck of each corn kernel, raw and summer                   swell. Tears welling up                     oil. Order up! Pickled cucumbers piled like logs for a fire, like fat limbs we pepper and succulent                in. Order up: shrimp chips curling in a porcelain bowl like subway seats. Grapes peeled from bitter bark — almost translucent, like eyes we would rather see. Little girl, what do you leave, leaven              in your sight? Death to the open eyes of  the dying. Here,           there are so many open eyes we can’t close each one.          No, we did not say the steamed eye of a fish. No eyelids fluttering like no butterfly wings. No purple yam lips. We said eyes. Still and resolute as a heartbreaker.         Does this break your heart?                                      Look, we don’t want to be rude, but seconds, please. Want: globes of oranges swallowed whole like a basketball or Mars or whatever planet is the most delicious.                   Slather Saturn! Ferment Mercury! Lap up its film of dust, yuk sung! Seconds, thirds, fourths! Meat wool! A bouquet of chicken feet! A garden of                   melons, monstrous in their bulge!               Prune back nothing. We purr in this garden. We comb through berries and come out so blue. Little girl,                            lasso tofu, the rope slicing its belly clean. Deep fry a cloud so it tastes like bitter gourd or your father leaving — the exhaust of his car, charred. Serenade a snake and slither its tongue into yours and                           bite. Love! What is love if  not knotted in garlic? Child, we move through graves like eels, delicious         with our heads first, our mouths agape. Our teeth:         little needles to stitch a factory of everything made in China.      You ask: Are you hungry? Hunger eats through the air like ozone. You ask: What does it mean to be rootless? Roots are good to use as toothpicks. You: How can you wake in the middle of a life? We shut and open our eyes like the sun shining on tossed pennies in a forgotten well. Bald copper, blood. Yu choy bolts                  into roses down here. While you were sleeping, we woke to the old leaves of  your backyard shed and ate that and one of your lost flip-flops too. In a future life, we saw rats overtake a supermarket with so much milk, we turned opaque. We wake to something boiling. We wake to wash dirt from lettuce, to blossom into your face. Aphids along the lashes. Little girl, don’t forget              to take care of  the chickens, squawking in their mess and stench. Did our mouths buckle                                at the sight of  you devouring slice                after slice of  pizza and the greasy box too? Does this frontier swoon for you? It’s time to wake up. Wake the tapeworm who loves his home. Wake the ants,                  let them do-si-do a spoonful of  peanut butter. Tell us, little girl, are you hungry, awake,                               astonished enough?

Jane Wong, How to Not Be Afraid of Everything (Alice James Books, 2021)

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[carfuckerlynch]

actually ghibli movies are about the transformative power of meeting a cool lesbian when ur a kid and scared.

[yumi-reads]

"Am I the only animal here?"

This also appears in How to Not Be Afraid Of Everything (2023) by Jane Wong! Originally found in The American Poetry Review.

[claraoswalds]

It's racist, my dear, to be blunt. People come from outside, they think we're all witches and druids. For God's sake, child, you walked into a piece of string!

[cspcrashing]

erm if you've seen my slow descent into tf madness on that other app...... well.... enough said... have an earthspark megop attempt.....