What Do You Mean A Dhole Is Sitting And Editing A Photo Collage In Photoshop? Where’s My Forest? Huh??

did you know jackalopes are my favorite cryptid

!!!!

sometimes someone will casually mention using chatgpt or some other generative ai thing and I can actually feel the little

above my head

sorry i was passionate & intense & insane. it will happen again

Everyone gives Sherlock Holmes a hard time about being mean about Watson's writing, but honestly imagine you told your roommate "sure, you can write up an account of my work for the newspaper," thinking it would be like, about the murder, but then he publishes it and it's 90% about you, as a person, and it's a huge hit and now everyone in London knows that you hoard newspapers and do cocoaine when you're depressed. Because I think you'd be little miffed too.

— Friedrich Nietzsche, in an entry from January of 1882 under the heading Sanctus Januarius.

Have a very Nietzsche New Year's!!!

EVERY GIRL IS A MISSING PERSON

I wanted to go out soft, undone at the seams (no stitches, no staples, just silk & surrender)—wanted to be so lovely they couldn’t look away. My mother said I was fragile but she didn’t mean it like glass—she meant I looked like something that could starve in the wrong hands (she meant don’t let them touch you).

I kept secrets under my tongue—names, dates, dosages—small enough to swallow but heavy enough to drown in. I pressed flowers into my notebooks, but they always rotted (always turned black around the edges). I liked the smell.

In school, I learned about animals that eat their young. Mercy, the teacher called it, but I saw the way she flinched. What’s softer than survival? What’s prettier than a girl who disappears just in time?

I wrote letters I never sent, folded them small enough to slip between teeth—I wanted to leave them something [a word, a bruise, a map]—wanted them to know I was never sorry. I picked out dresses for the burial (blue like veins, pink like gums) & practiced lying still.

I always knew how it would end—knew the shape of it, the temperature, the weight. What’s one girl in a world full of them? What’s one more name carved into stone?

your cum does not impress me dr watson

Just started reading Sherlock Holmes and all the adaptations are wrong. This man is a delight. He gets excited about hemoglobin and is ecstatic at the thought of Watson as a roommate. He purposefully forgets how the solar system works so he has more room in his brain for crime. He shows Watson the dirt stains on his trousers and he can tell what part of London they come from based on color and consistency. (As far as i can tell Watson didn't ask, Sherlock just gets back from walks and tells Watson about the stains unprompted.) The text specifically says "Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with." Why does every adaptation make him unpleasant and rude, he's literally just eccentric. He's such a goober, I love him.

🌱 Rest is productive

“Some relationships just end. Like a star, they burn bright and brilliant, and then nothing in particular goes wrong, they just reach their end. They burn out.”

— Cora Carmack, Losing It