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homo homini lupus est

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isolation

Let go.

September 19, 2021September 19, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

“Let not future things disturb you, for you will come to them, if it shall be necessary, having with you the same reason which you now use for present things.”Marcus Aurelius I am tired of reaction. I grow weary of anticipating disaster. I do not want to cease thinking rationally, but would like to avoid … Continue reading Let go.

Catalysts are made to be burned.

September 9, 2021July 3, 2022 / April Joy / 1 Comment

I do not want this. With every fiber of my being, I do not want to be here. The heat. The ants. The fucking gravestone that I refuse to maintain. I never bring flowers. I shouldn’t have to. I should not have to come here. For fuck’s sake. It’s hot and humid today; the marble … Continue reading Catalysts are made to be burned.

Thinking makes it so.

July 10, 2021July 10, 2021 / April Joy / 2 Comments

Automat, Edward Hopper. For years I’ve wanted to live according to everyone else’s morals. I’ve forced myself to live like everyone else, to look like everyone else. I’ve said what was necessary to join together, even when I felt separate. And after all of this, catastrophe came. I must rebuild a truth — after having … Continue reading Thinking makes it so.

The Deep Despair/Hope of Holidays Alone

July 4, 2021July 4, 2021 / emily29red / 1 Comment

Emily’s first End of Line post!

Meditations on the consensual hallucination.

June 30, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

Everyone is happy on social media. I know I promised to finish my thought on Kundera, and I will! I promise. I’ve gotten sidetracked by a series of conversations I’ve had on social media, however, as one does. I don’t think I’ve actually finished a thought since I joined Twitter. It’s quite embarrassing for someone … Continue reading Meditations on the consensual hallucination.

And let my cry come unto thee.

August 30, 2020March 31, 2021 / April Joy / 1 Comment

And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. “The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very … Continue reading And let my cry come unto thee.

Thinking about stuff at 3am.

July 27, 2020July 27, 2020 / April Joy / 1 Comment

Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. The Dying Gaul. I can't sleep, even though I would really love it. My mind spins when everything is quiet, and I usually try to distract myself to get it to stop. But I've got Kaleo's All the Pretty Girls stuck in my head, … Continue reading Thinking about stuff at 3am.

memento mori.

April 22, 2020August 16, 2020 / April Joy / Leave a comment

In which I try with limited success to avoid the cliche of Hamlet's most famous soliloquy.

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the wasteland

“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
“They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

the archive

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  • December 2021
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  • July 2021
  • June 2021
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  • August 2020
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  • June 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • January 2020
  • July 2019

marina

This form, this face, this life
Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me
Resign my life for this life, my speech for that unspoken,
The awakened, lips parted, the hope, the new ships.
What seas what shores what granite islands towards my timbers
And woodthrush calling through the fog
My daughter.

burnt norton

And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.

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