‘… the continual discovery of fresh types of nonsense, unsystematic though their classification and mysterious though their explanation is too often allowed to remain, has done on the whole nothing but good.’
– j.l. austin, how to do things with words (1962)
so this blog is as it turns out a little bit haunted. that’s okay; ghosts are people too. but i think what i will do is let them be, archive the blog & start afresh over at @asimplecreature, where i invite you to follow me if (and only if!) you wish to. i am likely to be extremely conservative about following from that account at least at first so please do not think anything of it if i do not follow you back right away.
hello tumblr fam it has been a while how are you
breaking tumblr embargo because i have finally seen everything everywhere all at once and no one needs another review of this film so i’ll just say that i endured trials beyond the strength of man to see it (leaving the house riding a bus sitting in a cinema &c), and my verdict is: i would do it again
yep okay we have once again reached the threshold of very much too insane to be On Here. i do not like this because i do like all of you but definitely need to Go Away for some time. if you have another means of contact for me please avail yourself of it and if you do not have one but would like one let me know. will continue to check dms & asks. peace <3
From How Many Legs, How Many Toes? Illustrated by Cynthia and Alvin Koehler. 1971.
@little-brisk HOW MANY
s3 of derry girls is tanking hard but it has these tiny perfect gems scattered across it. weaponizing uncle colm against the police. gerry telling mary she can do anything. claire and sister michael at the train station. the delorean in the donegal gaeltacht. and this week’s: deirdre mallon
cannot BELIEVE i forgot about tina doing meat loaf
Dear and sweet friends getting closer all time. Hurting is so much lighter when you’re near me, says Vulture Pony to Gut Baby, with not her words but her many little legs. Thank you thank you thank you
there’s also, you know. it’s not just me making stuff up. there are forces at work here. she’s really let herself go, you know, that genre. remember that xo jane article? if you don’t immediately know what i’m talking about i will not burden you with the knowledge. but i think about it all the time.
an intense but understated melancholy fic about how that mary mccool grew up with that deirdre [name unknown] in that kind of intense intimacy and yet the world being as it is they both still ended up married to men and now in spite of everything including their daughters’ intense friendship that so resembles their own, mary exclusively calls the woman who used to be the girl who tattooed her in secret on the school grounds twenty years ago ‘deirdre mallon’ and can’t even ask her about the big bowl
s3 of derry girls is tanking hard but it has these tiny perfect gems scattered across it. weaponizing uncle colm against the police. gerry telling mary she can do anything. claire and sister michael at the train station. the delorean in the donegal gaeltacht. and this week’s: deirdre mallon
feeling extremely unhinged about things it is not appropriate to feel this kind or degree of feeling about but as we all know being able to identify feelings as disproportionate or disordered or diswhateverelse does not in fact come with the ability to reorient their objects or turn down their volume so here we are simply feeling unhinged
love a scaredy-cat landlord. i won :)
