#fragments of seeking

[schlock-luster-video]

On January 8, 2021, Games and a collection of Curtis Harrington shorts were screened on TCM Underground.

[pierppasolini]

Fragment of Seeking (1947) // dir. Curtis Harrington

[philosophybits]

Those who seek gold dig up much earth but find little.

Heraclitus, Fragments, B22

[shisasan]

Women with real natural elegance, maturity, wisdom, and power, gracefully asserting their worth with every step and inspiring those around them.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Control. Iron-clad and constant, it's the central point of his life. He can be honed as a blade for the Crows. He can bring death as it's required. In return, life will not require him to mold himself into some other shape.

Eventually, he'll fall. Whether due to bad luck on a contract or the quick, sharp end of another Crow's blade, he will fulfill the end that is expected of him.

If he's missing pieces that a human being should have? If he's unable to fit into the groups that flitter through parties and along the edges of the rooftops? Then someone else will inevitably rise that can properly care for the people of Antiva.

He is the best that House Dellamorte has. He will dance on the blade's edge between being what is needed and falling to the true darkness that he knows works within him. He will be better than that. He can't afford to be anything less.

No distractions. Only the determination to see each contract through to its end.

[scatterbrainedbot]

hey so uh question for u guys. hypothetically, if approached by the dying soul of ur future self, are u morally obligated to give up part of yours to save him? ......guys pls respond hes coming closer

(inspired of course by peepaw leos current situation in @/somerandomdudelmao 's cass apocalypse series)

[anarkhebringer]

Mmmmmm I now have fuel to confirm that what I had Endobelles do to Scarlet early on in the story is so much more sinister now

[news4dzhozhar]

[jaysgirlx]

if you're running after a person who clearly does not want you, please seek help my love 🥰

[brownsugar4hersoul]

“

I never said it was easy to find your place in this world. But I’m coming to the conclusion that if you seek to please others, you will forever be changing because you will never be yourself. Only fragments of someone you could be. You need to belong to yourself, & let others belong to themselves too. You need to be free & detached from things & your surroundings. You need to build your home in your own simple existence, Not in friends, lovers, your career or material belongings, Because these are things you will lose one day. That’s the natural order of this world. This is called the practice of detachment.

” | Charlotte Eriksson |, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: In search for The Great Perhaps

[caracello]

i've been considering ftr a self insert that's likeeee. a prophet of sorts. either she's a force-user than can forsee things or it's just some other space bullshit. specifically i want to base her off the raven from the edgar allan poe poem.

[schlock-luster-video]

On February 10, 2023, Queen of Blood, a collection of Curtis Harringon short films, Time Out For Trouble, R.F.D. Greenwich Village, When You Grow Up, and Queen of Outer Space were screened on TCM Underground.

[pierppasolini]

Fragment of Seeking (1947) // dir. Curtis Harrington

[philosophybits]

The world is much too serious, but seriousness is nevertheless a rather rare phenomenon. Seriousness is the opposite of play. It has a particular purpose, the most important of all possible purposes; it is incapable of trifling or of deceiving itself; it pursues its aims tirelessly until it has achieved them. For this it needs energy, a mental power of absolutely unlimited extension and intensity. If there's no absolute height and breadth for man, then the word greatness is superfluous in the moral sense. Seriousness is greatness in action. Great is what simultaneously possesses enthusiasm and genius, what is both divine and complete. Complete is what is at the same time natural and artificial. Divine is what wells up out of love into pure eternal being and becoming, what is higher than any poetry and philosophy. There is a kind of serene divinity that lacks the crushing power of the hero and the creative activity of the artist. Whatever is simultaneously divine, complete, and great is perfect.

Friedrich Schlegel, Athenaeum Fragments

[beeapocalypse]

head in my hands over what happens when u lock yourself in with the prisoner and sit until the end. what the hell

[belog-grada-crna-princeza]

Journey, not destination.

We wandered with our eyes closed into this maze. Half asleep, half alive. Wherever we turn we see darkness, shadows. Projections. I sit with my back against the wall, shaking, defeated and yet hopeful and optimistic. I have some vague idea of what this all is but it's always like a merry-go-round. I've been here before. Haven't I? I can't remember. Something feels familiar about this. I write down clues, reminders, I draw maps to follow. The focus is the exit and I'm drifting farther away. Then I look at the roses and the grass and the butterflies and suddenly it's morning time. I surrender. We explore. We lose ourselves. Some illusions are more real than some truths and some truths are as fickle as some illusions. I bathe in the sunlight and disappear into the darkness. I am dizzy. We are spinning again, and all this is, is motion sickness. I search my mind for what I wrote down. I try to grasp onto anything solid. My hands are green and bloody from clutching onto the grass, onto the roses. I smell smoke but don't see the fire. I am running out of energy, screaming: I want to get out. I am back to where I was. It never ends, never stops. I am beginning to think the exit is a lie. My thoughts entangled with the clouds; in my heart it rains. My eyes can't detect colors other than black and white. I ask the cards which side I'm on. The Devil claims half and The Angel claims half, tearing my flesh apart. I am tainted with the wars they lead in my name. I never wanted this. I start running as the shadows call behind me, I don't care, I'm running, I'm running, I'm running. Everything is unfamiliar now, they're in the dust and in these new surroundings I don't recognize even my own heartbeat anymore. My wounds burn and scream for me to go back. My ears are buzzing, I'm so thirsty, I'm so weak, I'm so exhausted from running. I've come so far, too far to go back. I feel awake but I feel drained. The signs are getting bigger. The road smoother. The walls wider. I can breathe. But my lungs collapse from all this oxygen. I can see color again, but my eyes hurt from all this light. I can feel the breeze on my skin, but it shivers from even that light touch. I am homesick. In the days, I travel, in the nights, I pray to go back. The signs get bigger. Clearer. They show up now, even without looking. Somebody left this for us. I see footsteps, distinct from mine, hundreds of others that walked this path. If I was brave enough to turn, I might see others behind me. If I was brave enough to check, I might see my own footsteps. I move on, with more trust, and a sense of alignment spreads through my nerves. Goosebumps. I let the air in. I let the color in. I let the wind and the rain and the sunlight in. I look around. I have made it out. The maze seems so benign from this point of view. So simple, so tame. I write this down for next time. The exit is real. Trust the journey. Then, the dream begins again.

-Katarina