#disquieted writes

[dysphoresque]

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[anetherealpoetess]

if either louis or daniel had a single friend between them they would have figured out about armand's duplicitous manipulation of their memories years ago. it's called a girl's night and the pair just shared one together with their bare tootsies steeped in a sophisticated little indoor pebble garden

[pennysparrows]

Could it think, the heart would stop beating.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[uaravsh]

"I am overwhelmed by a vague sadness about life, an inner anxiety that makes me nervous and uneasy."

- 𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝙿���𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚊 , The Book of Disquiet

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa (1888 - 1935), is a remarkable work in modernist literature. Written in Portuguese and published posthumously in 1982, this collection of fragments and reflections spans around 544 pages in the Penguin Classics edition. Richard Zenith's 1991 English translation captures the essence of Pessoa's introspective musings and is considered by many to be the definitive translation (at least for now).

I read The Book of Disquiet over a few days in mid-July of this year, and I have to admit, the book was not a quick and easy read. I found myself reading brilliant sentences or paragraphs that expressed keen insights, but I often could not recognize how the sentence had been introduced, so I had to skim backwards through Pessoa’s prose filled with “post-Symbolist flights … diary-like musings, … maxims, sociological observations, aesthetic credos, theological reflections and cultural analyses (p.g. xv R. Zenith). Despite these complexities, or perhaps because of them, The Book of Disquiet is on my list of top books that I’ve read in the last few months. 2024 so far has been a time of reflection for me, and one of Pessoa’s passages is especially poignant at the moment. He writes:

“How much I’ve lived without having lived! How much I’ve thought without having thought! I’m exhausted from worlds of static violence, from adventures I’ve experienced without moving a muscle. I’m surfeited with what I’ve had and never will, jaded by gods that so far don’t exist. I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided. My muscles are sore from all the effort I have never even thought of making (p.g. 309)”

Pesso was an early twentieth century Portuguese poet, philosopher, and intellectual as well as a genuine person of letters. The book is really a collection of his thoughts and ideas collected and put together by the translator, Richard Zenith. The loosely knit text unfolds under the narration and from the perspective of one of Pessoa’s seventy five different heteronyms that he used throughout his oeuvre, the imaginary flâneur Bernardo Soares.

Classified within the genre of existential literature, the book eschews the notion of a traditional plot. Instead, it presents the musings of Soares, an assistant bookkeeper in Lisbon. The setting of Lisbon plays a crucial role, reflecting the protagonist's internal world and his philosophical explorations. Soares often reflects on the tensions between life and death, dreaming and action, or the act of creating and somnolence. Soares reflects:

“I weep over my imperfect pages, but if future generations read them, they will be more touched by my weeping than by any imperfection I might have achieved, since perfection would have kept me from weeping and, therefore, from writing, Perfection never materializes. The saint weeps, and is human. God is silent. That is why we can love the saint but cannot love God (p.g. 65).”

Pessoa's writing style is characterized by its stream-of-consciousness approach. This technique immerses us readers in the protagonist's thoughts, offering a direct glimpse into his reflective and often melancholic mind. The prose frequently employs metaphors and similes, which add depth to the philosophical observations. Imagery and symbolism are prominent, enhancing the thematic elements related to identity, solitude, and the passage of time. Again, Soares muses,

“Everything slips away from me. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and all it contains, my personality: it all slips away. I constantly feel that I was someone different, that a different I felt, that a different I thought, I’m watching a play with a different, unfamiliar setting, and what I’m watching is me (p.g. 186).”

Despite its unconventional structure, The Book of Disquiet has garnered significant acclaim and is considered a pivotal work in modernist literature oft compared to Joyce and Kalka. Much of the writing found in The Book of Disquiet was left behind by Pessoa in a trunk filled with his unfinished and unpublished writing, but despite the challenges of bringing his thoughts to the published page, the book’s influence on contemporary literature is profound.

The book's impact lies in its ability to resonate with readers on a deeply personal level. Pessoa's reflections on the human condition, captured through Soares' introspective lens, challenge conventional narrative forms and invite us the readers to engage in our own self-exploration. The absence of a linear plot is compensated by the richness of the thoughts and emotions conveyed.

For readers interested in existential and philosophical literature, Fernando Pessoa’s The Book of Disquiet offers a compelling and thought-provoking experience. Its innovative style and philosophical content make it a significant and enduring contribution to literary history.

[Jim Wood]

[quotesonquotes]

"Sometimes you have to put your fear aside to survive."

Georgie Reed, Disquiet

[xiphiaarts]

Man I might jus be vanilla

[virtuouslibertines69]

"My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddle strings and harps, drums and tambourines I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony." — Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet Art by Lauren K. Cannon

[quillheel]

─  romantic gestures.   bold what applies to your muse , italicize if there's potential / it depends.

holding hands · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · taking cute pictures in a photo booth · sharing a taxi / uber · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · getting tickets of their favorite artist / sports team / other · introducing them to your parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · star gazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument / sport while gently guiding their hands · compliments · late night drives · taking selfies together · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them your favorite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · mixtapes / playlists · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to your apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · running after them at the airport / keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight (verbally / physically) · joint bubble baths · dropping the L-bomb ("i love you") · dedicating a song at the karaoke bar to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · granting them the last bite (from meal)

tagged by: stolen from @infog <3 I legally HAD to tagging: @tenebriism @braveryhearted @autonomousxselves @fantomevoleur @musesofthesun @pluviacuratio @tendercoded / @manebloom / @lncanting @cozyfarms @deiscension @shadowedresolve @sakuaxe @lovlorne @leuvspell @adoranoia and you!!!! ( multi's, decide as you please! )

[thelogician]

fernando pessoa on autumn, from the book of disquiet

[nerice]

the big unread shelf readening of 2023

aka elia reads every single bought-but-unread book before being allowed to get into gtn/tlt

a conservation of shadows by yoon ha lee

american originality by louise glück

black leopard, red wolf by marlon james

breaking legacies by zoe reed

chinese folk tales anthology

chokepoint capitalism by rebecca giblin & cory doctorow

devotions: selected poems of mary oliver

divine felines: the cat in japanese art by rhiannon paget

epistemology of the closet by eve kosofsky sedgwick

female masculinity by jack halberstam

heikemonogatari

if not, winter (fragments of sappho)

korean folktales anthology

making sense of japanese by jay rubin

moby dick by herman melville

his dark materials by philip pullman

paradise lost by john milton

queer games avant-garde by bonnie ruberg

representation in steven universe (anthology)

revision by david michael kaplan

routledge handbook of japanese media (anthology)

russian folktales anthology

seven blades in black by sam sykes

sissies and tomboys (anthology)

the bear and the nightingale by kathryn arden (3 books)

the book of disquiet by fernando pessoa

the copyeditor's handbook by amy einsohn

the fifth season by n.k. jemison (3 books)

the grace of kings by ken liu

the promise of happiness by sara ahmed

the invisible library by genevieve cogman (8 books)

the japanese language by haruhiko kindaichi

the locked tomb by tamsyn muir

the queer art of failure by jack halberstam

the queer child by kathryn bond stockton

time is a mother by ocean vuong

turtles all the way down by john green

undoing gender by judith butler

welcome to night vale (the novel)

what if by randall munroe

wonderbook by jeff vandermeer

[transprince]

I have. This lighthousekeeper oc i want to talk about. He's quiet. In his 40s. He never leaves the lighthouse, or the cabin attached. People bring him groceries, rarely. Its a big deal if you get picked to be his assistant, since the island requires boats to get back safely. Assistants dont leave the light house ever again. If you enter the lighthouse, everything is dim. And damp. The humidity is surely from the seaside. He won't shake your hand. Have you seen his eyes? His face? Surely you have. He's polite. Quiet. Says his assistant is watching the light. You don't hear the motor running up above.

[disquetlibrary]

The most recent episode of the podcast is out!

Narrator, Author, and Artist of the episode is The Bricksmith (she/hers):

https://www.tumblr.com/the-bricksmith

Artist of the logo art is FallenLeafSpirit (she/hers):

https://www.tumblr.com/fallenleafspirit

Transcript below break:

[Transcript Start]

Good evening friends enemies and unaquainted strangers. I Welcome you to the Disquiet Library. I am the curator. And these listless halls house many stories and artworks. This evening i have a reading and painting from the library collections. Before I get on with that I have a few announcements.

We have selected a library assistant. It turns out that Chester Teefs the author of the oh so helpful book our Liberian friend recommended to us a few months back lives near one of the entrances to the library. He was interested with working with the library's mimic population and reached out to me to see if he could assist. I was all too happy to take up his offer as regrettably I have made little headway with the rowdy books in our collections. So if you see a large trunk with a tophat around do not be alarmed. However I must say that although our new assistant is merely an assistant librarian, the powers and abilities conferred by this position are still potent and the usual safety measures for dealing with librarians should be followed. For those who have forgotten or are uninformed, Chester and I have put together some safety protocol and interaction guidelines. These should be posted on our new community announcements corkboards near the entrances.

Our second announcement for the evening is that community mapping efforts mentioned last week have progressed well. We have now established that one can get to the children's fiction section most of the time. By tucking a red crayon behind ones left ear. If you would like to contribute to the ongoing mapping efforts please feel free to use the crayons and paper we provide near the donation bins. Completed mapping efforts can be turned in at the checkout counter or if you happen to catch me winding my way through the stacks. Please do not turn maps in to Chester as this could have dangerous concerns for the spacial stability of existing routes.

With that all accounted for let us turn to this evenings artwork. It is another artwork and story provided by my archivist contact in an adjoining galaxy who provided the story of our nameless droid friend from a few months ago. You do not need to have viewed that artwork or story to understand this evenings entertainment. For thise listening to the audio recordings a link to view the accompanying artwork has been included in the description box or card where ever you found the recordings. The story has some description of gore and death but the artwork should have no objectionable flavors. So if you find these distasteful please feel free to peruse the other works the library has to offer. With that let's begin.

I'm still finding it weird working with the soldiers. They don't really have much of a personality. Must be their struck training or something but it's a bit unnerving when the closest they get to amicability is when they are polishing their weapons together or in the mess hall together. I'll try to get to know them once we get underway.

Galactic standard year 3455 spring week 5 day 2 Kaffel sector.

My platoon and I have received orders to carry supplies to the Carragath base. Reports indicate heavy pirate activity in the area and the nearest warp point is in the next system so we have been supplied with one of the battle carriers rather than a cargo hauler as would usually be flown on such a route. It seems a bit overkill for a few pirates. But apparently this transport has some important supplies that can't be risked.

Galactic standard year 3455 spring week 5 day 5 Warpspace

We are getting close to our destination now. I guess I was too harsh on the soldiers in my last entry. I've shared evenings with them where we played a few rounds of sechnet as one if them had picked up a deck of the cards in one of his old away trips. They are a damn hand at it and truly wiped the floor with me. The one time I won they blamed it on me using "those damn envoy powers to read our fuck'n minds." When I just got lucky with my draws. They are still pretty formal and war focused but I suppose its to be expected from people who were raised both with growth accelerant and trained for war since they were infants. Today they invited me down to the training range. I was supposed to show them some moves so they can get adjusted to fighting along side a plasmasword. And some of the basic abilities they can expect when I channel the will. TS 3654 wanted to see how I held up in comparison to their plasma launchers. So he went a bit more fierce in demonstrations than we had agreed. And once they realized plasmaswords can discharge absorbed energy they had me face off against them in target practice. They had a lot of fun and seemed impressed at the end of it.

It was unnerving to see the androids simply stopped and turned around and started retreating in formation. Forming ribbons and rivulets of metal liquid that flowed out of the ship and back into the troop carriers.

Galactic standard year 3455 spring week 5 day 5 unknown

Everyone is dead or soon to be. We fell into a trap. Somehow the confederacy ripped us out of warpspace. I thought that was impossible. Not only that but in doing so they ripped the battle carrier in half. One moment everything g is fine then the next the ships ripped apart and we are taking fire. They look to be a medium fleet of a battle ship and some carriers. But soon while we were scrambling to ready the particle beams and return fire troop transports had already landed bots in the hull. I suited up in an Eva suit and took a battalion of soldiers to fight through the landing bots and go rescue stranded crew in the fore section of the ship. No mater how many bots we shot they just kept flowing in like swarms of ants and locusts burning away any living beings in their way. Endless waves of machines we fought though. Cutting then down and blasting holes through them. Even the blasts from my plasma saber could only clear momentary breaks. I tried to clear my mind and just let the will flow through me. But even the endurance and strength the will provided could do little more than hold the line against the holds of metal and lancing red plasma bolts. I felt the drone and vibration of the particle beams shutter off. As the power to the ship disappeared. We had made it to a viewport and so the only light was the dull glow from outside and the pressing stillness. A rumble below deck confirmed that they had destroyed the power station. And the bots stopped advancing. They all stared as us with their pointed heads and plasma launchers but they were paused waiting. The only thing we could hear was our breathing. Deep and slow conserving our suit supplies.

As the troop transports receded a single shuttle departed the confederacy fleet and approached the main hangar Bay. Our view blocked its approach. And one of my soldiers remarked on the bots leaving. "Why did they stop they shouldn't have stopped."

"We are dead already its not worth the effort. Without power our life support is out and we can't send for help." Another soldier, TS 3650, remarked.

"Commander. Can I see your plasma sword a second?" One of my solders had asked. I gave it to him and he held the thin blade up to a curious hole bored into one of the corpses. It wasn't the traditional round bolt hole but rather the thin slit reflected the geometry of the sword blade. "I don't think a simple bot could have done a lot of these." He said. "Also…" he grabbed the back of the armor and heaved the body out of an indentation in the wall the helmet was embedded in the wall and it came free of its occupant revealing the face of the man who had called me a cheater at cards thus morning. He had been in our battalion with us.

"We could get to the life pods they should have separate systems we could use."

"We have to be careful and take it slow though. Our EVAs are only about half full." My body tried to panic to breathe heavily as I processed the news. But I steadied my breathing g forcing long slow breaths. Panic would only use the air faster. As we slowly made our way through the empty halls. The massacre became evident. I had five soldiers remaining and it seemed like we may have been the only survivors. But the dark passageways only lit by our lamps attached to our helmets and the dull blue glow if my plasmasword. Sights got more horrific as we progressed. Amidst the piles of eviscerated bots and soldiers shot down in their squads by the bots. We started to find unnatural bodies. Soldiers missing limbs rather than shot. Or in some cases a few bodies were violently pulled into an air duct as though something had grasped them and tried to drag them away with no regard for their bone structure or armor. Shiny red blood glistened on their white beetle armor which caught our lamps and added to the grisly scenes.

The last three of us remaining made it to the escape pods and had started manually disengaging them and launching before we piled into the last one. As we launched I caught a glimpse of four yellow reflected eyes that caught my lamp from the dark as I pulled the hatch closed. We have life support now but with the cruzer disabled and unable to broadcast our signals there is little hope. I write this down to document so that if our bodies are found the republic can be at least warned.

"I only read three of you. I think we lost TS 3650 as well." I observed. Stick together men. We don't know what got the other two and I don't want to loose any more of you. The darkness pressed in around us even more as we made our way along the last few turns towards the escape pods. The trooper behind me started coughing. We paused to check in on him. His oxygen was getting low. And his suit was starting to backfill with nitrogen.

I only noticed the flash of movement and the slamming if the air duct just too late. TS 4567 had gotten grabbed by something from behind and had been rapidly dragged into the vents. His body was folded and floppy as his pulverized bones behaved much more like a bag if gravel when disrupted.

The remaining pages of the journal were blank and an angular charred slit carved into the edge of the journal and through to the chest of the burnt figure that was partially melded with the wall of the escape pod as though frozen in the moment of falling into a pool.

As the escape pod slowly turned in space. The two envoys saw the silhouette of a confederate cruzer. Smooth armor shells interspersed with minimalistic striped down utilitarian beams and girders and greebles. Then they saw a swirling green particle beam tear through their shuttle. They could hear the screams of their soldiers in the adjoining cabin before the escape pods emergency systems kicked in and closed the adjoining hatch. A dark y shaped silhouette of a shuttle broke away from the cruzer. The pods communicator crackled to life with a robotic severe voice. "This is general Horror. I bring the last words of your compatriot. 'Run run as fast as you can.' Do you have anything you would like to tell to tell to those who come looking for your bodies?"

That concludes our story for the evening. The library is currently undergoing some restructuring so you will be unable to find the usual resources with the donation bins. I will simply say thank you shadowy wanderers of the night. I hope you have a wonderful evening.

[unravelingwires]

Cancerates

When you eradicate cancer, you have to take out healthy cells too. Chemotherapy consists of murdering cells in your body, taking advantage of the fact that cancer cells are more vulnerable while not actually stopping normal cells from being vulnerable. If you think about it, even the actual cancer cells are a part of you. They are your cells mutated, not some invading outside force. Smoking, radiation, and air pollution can all encourage mutations, but it’s your DNA that ultimately poses the problem.

The swastika started out a Hindu symbol. It’s still exceptionally common in India, where it was used religiously for centuries before the Nazis took it. Between that and Indian political parties using the hammer and sickle, I have practice scrutinizing the background of family photos to make sure nothing questionable has slipped in.

I’m the kind of person who stopped using the okay symbol when it became an alt-right dog whistle; I’m not saying anyone has a right to reclaim the swastika. I just think a lot about the fact that it was ours, first.

[soysaucevictim]

Just some fun character notes for the Promethean!Sides...

[pleasurewizard]

Four walls dressed in damnable twilight

Blinded by the ghost lit sky

There are better nights for drinking alone

Sitting beneath stale wafting smoke

Dim yellow light hanging patient in the rafters

Obscuring the time slipping by.

I think in violet hues, stealing thought and quietly subdued.

The polarity and opposing force compelling meaningless divorce.

An inner world composed, of prescribed indifference to the external.

Compelled to walk, compelled to exit these damning walls.

The banality of tedium, Pessoa ringing in my head

Fleeting moving time, moving independent of my standing still.

The small nothingness of life, the silent space between the living.