You know, something that's been healing in ways I never really anticipated was buying secondhand books.
I have a physiology textbook that has the name Ernest written in beautiful cursive on the inside cover. Throughout the book, passages are highlighted, and I wonder: What is the difference between a passage underlined in red pen and one highlighted in yellow? Did he have a system, or did he use whatever was around him at the time? What kind of courses did he take? I wonder what he did after his degree... what if he became a renowned physiologist? Or, what if he abandoned everything to run away to chase dreams he knew were unwise?
It's something small you don't really think about, but there really is something holy about not being the first. This book isn't just the sum of knowledge anymore, it's become a love letter, with a completely separate story attached. That's something I will keep with me forever. We have always been here. We will pass down a tiny bit of ourselves no matter how long it has been. We will yet live.
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Ignoring how diff he looks compared to the last post, dip in some suit thingy fancy. And a drink again, idk why, it just seemed fitting.
I'm gonna redraw - hopefully w Bill. But imma do that when I get more in the artsy pretty mode, rather than whatever this was💀
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2ha spoilers ⚠️
Chu Wanning's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.
And with that I mean CWN's milkshake is so powerful, it can revive the dead and make them rip a gigantic interdimensional hole through the skies that angers the gods and triggers literal Armageddon.
Meanwhile, this dummy CWN still thinks that he is undesirable and ugly.
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'Yes, that old oak with which I saw eye to eye was here in this forest,' thought Prince Andrei. 'But whereabouts?' he wondered again, looking at the left side of the road and, without realizing, without recognizing it, admiring the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, spread out a canopy of dark, sappy green, and seemed to swoon and sway in the rays of the evening sun. There was nothing to be seen now of knotted fingers and scars, of old doubts and sorrows. Through the rough, century-old bark, even where there were no twigs, leaves had sprouted, so juicy, so young that it was hard to believe that aged veteran had borne them.
'Yes, it is the same oak,' thought Prince Andrei, and all at once he was seized by an irrational, spring-like feeling of joy and renewal. All the best moments of his life of a sudden rose to his memory. Austerlitz, with that lofty sky, the reproachful look on his dead wife's face, Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night itself and the moon and ... everything suddenly crowded back into his mind.
'No, life is not over at thirty-one,' Prince Andrei decided all at once, finally and irrevocably. 'It is not enough for me to know what I have in me- everyone else must know it too: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted to fly away into the sky; all of them must learn to know me, in order that my life may not be lived for myself alone.
From War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
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y'all remember that erotic but chilling short story where armand tells louis about feeding on people and it's like super horny in that anne rice way. well i had a copy of it somewhere, but i cannot find it. i don't remember what the name was. anyone out there got a link?
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I often think about that one guy that used to blog on here that only knew john dranielle from seeing him around his local tabletop store, not listening to his songs or anything. Such a charming idea to me...
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