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There’s some prime twitter discourse going on between Twitter Maoists and Boots Riley (writer of Sorry to Bother You) on the use of strategic reforms for the building of a revolutionary movement and honestly? All power to comrade Riley ✊

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Me @ me: write you coward

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you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog

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Silver Creek's Journal - Day 1

It seems I've been chosen for.....quite the duty. Hydaelyn's spirit approached me in a dream, after what I thought was just a simple “fetch person from danger” request. While I am new to this adventurer thing, it seems second-nature to me thus far. Almost as if I have done this all in a past life....regardless, I figure I should keep this journal for evidence of either my sanity...or....well, let's just leave it with one option for now. 

So I guess I should start with how I got to this position. I left my home -- a small village just north of the Abalathia's Spine -- not long after it was attacked by a small-yet-powerful gang of dragons. ‘Twas clear that we did not have the means to protect ourselves (we had a shortage of fighters and resources), so that’s what brought me here. Took many moons to travel here by foot and while I was hoping to be quick of it -- acquire enough gil to hire a modest militia to scare off the dragons. 

While my mission is still ongoing, I feel as though this vision from Hydaelyn will fix the source our my village’s problem rather than treat the symptoms. Either that or this new magic I am learning is getting to my head. If my mother was here, that would be the reason to blame for all of this. But, that is for another time. For now, I will focus on amassing gil until this world’s spirit reaches out to me once more. 

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Hats off to you. An anonymous fear submitted to Deep Dark Fears - thanks!

My new book “The Creeps” is available now from your local bookstore, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Book Depository, iBooks, IndieBound, and wherever books are sold. You can find more information here.

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Comic from 6-29-2014

PATREON

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It’s not Kanye’s response to trump or MAGA that scared me but what scares me more is the response Kanye received for sharing a harmless opinion. How is it if someone claims trump preaches hatred and division but you’re on the opposing end of that, yet that’s hypocritical

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It’s okay that you’re not who you thought you would be

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I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don’t have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn’t play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn’t watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you’re forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you’re genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don’t speak, why you don’t move, why you’ve created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you’ve left your other parts one by one.

Ingmar Bergman (via ryantippery)

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I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.

Why I Adore the Night (Jeanette Winterson)

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“In an ideal world, we would have been orphans. We felt like orphans and we felt deserving of the pity that orphans get, but embarrassingly enough, we had parents.”

—Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You

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As in films by Werner Herzog, Terrence Malick and Theo Angelopoulos, the filmmaking encourages us to think less about what motivates the characters (their drives are often hazy) than their existence within the context of a land and an era that is ultimately indifferent to their dramas. The slow (or “deliberate”) pace makes the mind wander away from the absence of expected values and focus instead on the presence of ones you don’t normally get from scripted features. You may find yourself noticing a soldier’s blazing red trousers against the green lichens and thinking about how inappropriate, and somehow strangely arrogant, they are, and how this juxtaposition of colors seems to summarize the mentality of those who would try to invade and subjugate terrain they barely understand.

Jauja Movie Review & Film Summary (2015)

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What was once before you - an exciting, mysterious future - is now behind you. Lived; understood; disappointing. You realize you are not special. You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone’s experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone’s everyone. So you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive. You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours; all her loneliness; the gray, straw-like hair; her red raw hands. It’s yours. It is time for you to understand this. As the people who adore you stop adoring you; as they die; as they move on; as you shed them; as you shed your beauty; your youth; as the world forgets you; as you recognize your transience; as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one; as you learn there is no-one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving - not coming from any place; not arriving any place. Just driving, counting off time. Now you are here, at 7:43. Now you are here, at 7:44. Now you are…gone.

Charlie Kaufman, Synecdoche, New York (via bmmn)