#inspiration: zero

[formlessing]

An entry in my imaginary diary about my lack of inspiration

Dear Diary,

I've always wanted to keep a diary. Unfortunately, I've never had the discipline to write every day. Worse: I don't think I care enough about myself to take such a commitment. My internal states are not a topic I find that interesting to wallow in. Once (or twice), I tried tracking my moods; this was basically logging an emoji every day on some silly little app; just pick one, no questions asked: happy-face, sad-face, nothing-face. But I couldn't convince myself this information mattered. It's either noise or useless cartography.

Some time ago the habit of endless self-analyzing made sense. I knew nothing. Eventually, I knew too much. The final verdict was trite: I'm a human and a woman. All else follows. There is almost nothing about me and my perceptions I can't derive from these two facts. How I receive the world and what I project back into it, all the probable iterations; everything I know about people applies to me somehow, and vice-versa. I can't think of myself anymore as an individual, even though I'm a committed individualist in most practical matters. It's a weird self-feeding-self-effacing largesse of spirit, a boundary destruction tool. (I must admit this is an isolated phenomenon inside my consciousness and, sadly, it doesn't affect my pragmatism and common sense. First and foremost, I'm a high decoupler.)

[Agora eu sinto vontade de escrever alguma coisa. Como se alguém estivesse gritando nos confins da minha alma (qual alma?) numa língua que eu não entendo. Eu queria escrever em português, mas me falta naturalidade – não me sobrou naturalidade nenhuma. Minha percepção é absolutamente difusa, amorfa. O que eu poderia escrever quando estou convencida de que o ato consiste em pouco mais do que a vaidade de condensar, limitar, domar e corromper? Estou mais interessada em espalhamentos que constrições. Eu tento escrever e o que escrevo são meros artifícios. Não existe mais um "Eu" pra traduzir o que eu penso, tudo não passa de um exercício criativo do éter para o éter. Não há mais o ímpeto que surge da necessidade. Em algum momento, houve uma dissolução irreversível de quem eu sou, de quem eu fui.]

I have been disconnected from my native self a long time ago, it is gone for good. Sometimes I look around for her in strange places and find nothing. Nada. I guess it's really over, not even memories remain. I don't know who is screaming, I can't really recognize this voice. I'm trying really hard to care about this. To care about her. I can't. I hate to say it, I honestly do, and believe me, I am very ashamed about saying this, I think it's terrible but I will be vulnerable for once: I suspect my mind has been coopted by some universal consciousness. (Please stop now and notice my face. It's not entirely straight while I'm telling you this. Yes, my methods for self-deprecation are very baroque. Also, it is very hard to be vulnerable.) Nonetheless, the truth is: there are very few things that can fill my mind with such terror as imagining I will have to live another life; being trapped in Samsara once more; being back to the forced labor of self-expression.

Although I'm still not part of that great luminous ball out there and am little more than a conscious sack of meat and bones, I have accepted everything there was to accept. I have found my way through every existential loophole—there is nothing else to resolve. Now I'm just someone who waits. I'm in peace (R.I.P). I don't have any extraordinary feelings about this world, nor do I have some great new insight about the nature of ordinary things. My mind is eerily still. Everything is indeed very simple, even when terribly important, even when sublime and sacred, disgusting or demonic. I'm lost in the obviousness of things, or maybe I'm lost in the impenetrability of things. My head is filled with either platitudes or incomprehensible babble. I am unable to communicate anything properly or interestingly. I'm drifting. Or I'm finally rooted. It's the same—everything is the same thing as everything else, only at different levels. "Form is Emptiness, Emptiness is form. Emptiness does not differ from form, and form does not differ from Emptiness." Excuse my clichés.

At some moment in my life I walked back to get a better view and went too far. Now everything is just an indistinguishable point in space. A tiny dot in a sea of dots. Another pearl in the net. And I'm just another dot, or just another pearl with no special luster. Either way, I can't make myself care. I lack the agony to write. My agony is just meta-agony. Sorry, Thays. May you find your inspiration to write some other day.

[astrazero]

My revamp of, Drie Gratiën, by Peter Paul Rubens, 1630

[creaman]

Peacocking noun [u]

1. Ostentatious dress or behaviour employed by a man in an attempt to impress women.

… or another man.

[wishfulsketching]

I won a battle against art and anatomy, so I decided to doodle something real quickly as a treat!

Show gives me props to use to make cute little moments? Yes please and thank you.

[hisui-dreamer]

jamil, who loves showing affection by cooking food for his loved ones, making sure the curry is seasoned to perfection and your favourite dessert to go along with the meal.

and you, with zero spice tolerance but so incredibly overwhelmed with gratitude and affection for how hard jamil's worked. and with your favourite dessert right there enticing you, you're determined to finish every drop of curry on your plate.

...

it doesn't go too well.

indeed, you have finished every drop of curry. but you've also downed around 12 cups of water, and the burning in your mouth is still unrelenting. jamil visibly looks concerned with how much water you're drinking and it's unavoidable you address your non-existent spice tolerance.

jamil sighs, and his eyes show a hint of exasperation you often see when he's following kailm's whims. you avert your gaze to the floor, upset at yourself that you've disappointed him and maybe he hates you now how could you not like his fo-

flick!

ouch! your hands reach up to shield your forehead, and your eyes meet his. not exasperated, maybe slightly, but amused and... loving??

"dummy, don't go forcing yourself to eat what you don't like," he sighs

you timidly explain you could never do that with how much time and effort he puts into his cooking

his smile widens slightly.

"for now, i guess i'll be making more desserts for you then,"

he chuckles at the way your eyes light up.

"here," he feeds you a spoonful of the chilled dessert. "is your mouth still burning?"

oh. you don't think it is anymore.

but your heart sure is.

[jaegervega]

Schism by TOOL

I have feelings ok

[crystallizsch]

this was kalim's idea

[nikooo-whathehell]

(it’s not for nothing that the zone is addressed as a woman)

that's kinda specific meme I made for myself and one and a half people who are as insane as me to understand da meme

[pudgybun]

I wanna be fricken fat as fuck again I'm trying not to be too bummed about not being able to gain anything rn but I'm actually kinda sad about it! Quite sad ): I was getting so big I was barely fitting in the car seat and my hips were always bumping things and I was just SO plump (T^T) I was feeling SO big and breaking furniture and not fitting my ass in chairs, my double chin was getting so thick and my cheeks and lips were rounding out </3 I'm really hoping that I'm able to get some weight back on! Tomorrow I'm going to a BBQ and doing some photo sets so it will be a good opportunity to eat a bunch !!

[astrazero]

The First kiss of Adam & Steve .

My revamp of, The First kiss of Adam and Eve, by Salvador Viniegra, 1891

[casterhex]

uh. nyapril fool's?

^^ self portrait jumpscare

[gorgynei]

very inspired by the work of @/road-kill-eater

[thoughtkick]

It’s better to be your genuine self, and have fewer of the right kinds of people in your life, than it is to surround yourself with those who only accept you as long as you conform to their idea of who you should be.

Zero Dean

[coloriza]

"Sakura had never felt so validated in her love until she met a man made better by her burning."

The Void Between Fireflies by @renaerys

[hisui-dreamer]

thinking about jamil who's trying to impress you with his cooking, trying all sorts of dishes, different spices, different ingredients, spending hours cooking in the kitchen just to try and coincidentally tell you he's accidentally made too much food again, and it'd help so much if you could take it off his hands

you always do, smiling gratefully and accepting the food with both hands, your words of gratitude spilling freely from your mouth and it'd make him so happy-

but he's never seen you eat the food.

he's a bit confused, he's heard you mention to others that you don't get a lot to eat from the headmaster, and he's always seen you readily eat food others give you, the tarts you get from trey, the apples epel gifts you, even the dubious mushroom dishes jade offers... (no he wasn't keeping count!)

so he gets the courage to ask you one time, making it seem like it was another coincidence when he finds you at the library, making casual conversation before asking you what you thought of his food

"oh! i think it was delicious! grim seemed to really enjoy it!"

you... think?

he asks if you'd had any of the food, and you avert your eyes, seemingly hesitant

"ahh.. i haven't... i have awful spice tolerance you see..."

oh.

oh.

the next time he gives you "leftovers", he makes sure to tell you he made a non-spicy variant of curry, so you should be able to enjoy it

what you don't know is that he spent a few nights trying to perfect a non-spicy dish, researching different cusines and ingredients before finally setting on an eastern variant of curry that seemed to suit your tastes

but it's all worth it, the way you stared at him in awe, maybe realising this wasn't a leftover at all, and the way your eyes sparkled as you excitedly asked-

"oh!! do you mind if i try it now?"