#anti-sisyphus

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Can you give me a list of resolutions i should follow to get through the frank-less years to come?

"Frank-less" is not a word I would have used, but this is a good question.

I've been thinking about my own reactions to Frank's sudden disappearance, but there are probably many others just as reactive as me, if not more so. There's nothing I can do to help you or anyone else, I'm afraid.

I will say that I'm sorry that the response to my post about Frank's demise was a call for encouragement. That post was written in the moment and could easily be misinterpreted.

I thought it would be interesting to share that I'm a bit lost right now, a bit unmoored. Frank is a thing I've done every day for the last six years or so, and I have created a lot of relationships with Frank-related people, as well as habits of behavior that have been shaped by the non-Frank elements of the tumblr ecosystem. Losing Frank puts me in a space where I feel lost and anxious and over-stimulated. I don't know how to get out of that space, or even whether there's any getting "out of" that space. All I can do is wait to see how it resolves itself.

This is a temporary thing, and I don't know if it will have lasting impact on my life, but for now it makes me feel adrift, and I apologize for not being a more complete person while I deal with this. Hopefully I'll get used to my new circumstances soon enough that I'm able to be back to the regular Sisyphus post schedule.

Thanks for asking this, though. There's nothing I can do, but it's still nice to know people are thinking about me.

[systemdeez]

The myth of Sisyphus is actually capitalist propaganda btw. Repeating the same repetitive task over and over for your entire life? Isn't that just what most jobs are like?

"one must imagine Sisyphus happy"

-capitalist pigs, probably

[penisbrigade]

made a bunch of lawn mowing memes while procrastinating mowing the lawn

[questionablystupid-art]

Collections of tribetwelve sketches

Some were rq from friends, most are hcs

I luv Mr scars sm

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"Because I was reading today / in the science section of the paper that passionate love / lasts only a year, maybe two, if you're lucky. / Because I want to be extra, extra lucky."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[forestgreenlesbian]

whats the best love poem of all time

[constantvariations]

I genuinely cannot fathom why so many people are willing to bend over backwards to defend rwby so much, some even going so far as to stalk and harass anyone with the mildest criticism

And they always do it with this smarmy smugness of "I'm better than you because I'm upholding demographics x, y, and z while you worship a white man" like?? It's not activism to like a show nor does disliking a show equate to bigotry. I'm not racist for disliking Blackish nor am I an ally for liking Get Out. That's not how this works

I'm starting to think they're just addicted to feeling superior to others no matter how contrived. That's why they keep coming back to the tag to spew the same dogshit insults: they need that rush of attention and self-validation. It's why the anti tag is such a flaccid echo chamber of people pointing and laughing at out-of-context screenshots or whiny ho-hums about rwde's existence. It's a meaningless circlejerk meant to stimulate the ego instead of the intellect

[kafkatlas]

"Freedom"

I think I have an unhealthy relationship with time. That this nagging feeling that psychologists like to call anxiety is the symptom of this disconnection from the natural order of things. 

Its paradoxical, because I feel like I have no time at all; I get frustrated quickly and give up easily. 

But I know I have a lot of time, so I’m cemented in thinking of the future, dizzied by the branching, fractal paths that lay before me. Kierkegaard called this the dizziness of freedom, but to me it feels like shackles. 

Frozen in inactivity.

This is a stark reminder that capitalism has deeply entrenched itself in the human psyche, and more specifically the process by which an individual can feel like a valuable member of society. The extremist focus on productivity has messed with how we value human life. 

Memento mori is also called to mind. The lack of acceptance of one’s mortality, and the futility of our most common, everyday actions. Fear will of course creep in; the fear that everything about you will be forgotten. Ultimately, our inherent narcissism resists this universal truth, and from this rejection of reality, existential dread arises. 

Constant effort into acceptance is my only relief from this. 

[daisychainsandbowties]

do you ever see someone so ridiculously hot and you think “well that’s just unfair” like, please give me a break

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 listen. sometimes you see someone and several centuries worth of poetry about desire suddenly makes sense to you all at once and you realise that hands can be used to touch things and then (if you’re me) you go onto tumblr.com and you reblog a post you had saved in drafts for a month a whole bunch of times because the local catholic church won’t let you run up into their belltower and play a gayass tune so everyone knows you just witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world

[followmenot]

[unicorn-onion]

Your privileged lack of ambition is nothing to be proud of, but neither is my desperate abundance of ambition.

[500seawormideas]

line farm 1

[thatsugarglazedlook]

[claudia-lioncourt]

when will we stop engaging with the haters/antis/whatever you wanna call them. when. WHEN

[furiouslyinsensible]

Song of the Anti-Sisyphus

- Chen Chen, for Jeff

I want to start a snowball fight with you, late at night

in the supermarket parking lot. I want you

to do your worst. I want to put the groceries in the car first

because it’s going to get nasty. Because I was reading today

in the science section of the paper that passionate love

lasts only a year, maybe two, if you’re lucky.

Because I want to be extra, extra lucky. Because the article

apologized specifically to poets—sorry, you hopeless

saps—as though we automatically believe in love more

than anyone else (more than carpenters, kindergarten teachers,

novelists) & have been pushing this Non-Truth

on everyone. Because who knows what will happen,

but I want to, baby, want to believe it’s always possible

to love bigger & madder, even after two, three, four years,

four decades. I want a love as dirty as a snowball fight

in the sludge, under grimy yellow lights. I want this winter

inside my lungs. Inside my brain & dream. I want to eat

the unplowed street & the fog that’s been erasing

evergreens. I want to eat the fog only to discover

it’s some giant’s lost silver blanket. I want to

find the giant & return to him his treasure.

I want the journey to be long. & strange, like a map

drawn in snow by our shadows shivering. I want to shiver

against you, into you. I want the sound

of your teeth. I want the sound of the wind. I want to be

like the kids with their plastic sleds, gliding down,

all the way down the hill, then trudging

their sleds & snow-suited bodies all the way

back to the top. I want to be how they do this, for hours,

till sunset, till some sensible someone has

to come drag them away from the snow, the slope,

the 3… 2… 1!

of joy. I want to be the Anti-Sisyphus, in love

with repetition, in love, in love. Foolish repetition,

wise repetition. I want more hours, I want insomnia, I want

to replace the clock tick with tambourines. I want to growl,

moan, whisper, grunt, hum, & howl your name.

I want again & again your little dance, little booty shake

in big snow boots, as I sing your name.

[havingapoemwithyou]

song of the anti-sisyphus by Chen Chen