#i can feel my grandma pulling on my ear in metaphor im sorry

[jrueships]

bro is tempting me .

[angel-archivist]

h heres the story,, 

mm some angst: the day had been stressful as hell for cyrus, it felt like everyone was out for blood for day, and that GODDAMN headache wouldnt go away! He sighed and rubbed his temple as he slunk over to his dorm room. Finally some rest. he flopped onto the bed and felt himself begin to drift of, his vision went red for a split second startling him awake. "what the fuck...." suddenly a sharp knocking sound pierced through his ears and his headache grew worse. right... he forgot he had to study with Dominic... He pulled himself off his bed, he realized he was still in his gym uniform but he didn’t give a shit at this point. "hey...man. whats up..." 

        "Hi cyrus!" as bright.. and cheery as always, he mustered up a smile. "sup man..." "ready to study the shit outta some english!" 

 "no" 

"too bad!" he walks into his room with the books and sat down at the normal table smashed in the corner, over the course of dominic tutoring it had aquired a lot more junk, some old pizza boxes and candy wrappers, along with a few cds that dominic had brought to show him. Cyrus himself even pulled out a relic of the past a walkman that his grandma had given him. It was ancient, but dominic was into that stuff so he thought he'd enjoy the horrible quality music. he did. Cyrus slunk over to the desk and sunk into a chair slouching and slamming his feet on the desk. "bro" 

 "dont say bro what is it the 2000's again?"

"phff someones in a mood, ok lets open up to chapter 5!" cyrus gave a long drawn out sigh as he reached into his bag and yanked out the crinkled cover of "the westing game' "Alright so you should've read chapter 5, tell me what happened!" 

 "i dunno some bomb or something went off, turtle almost...died?" 

"kind of!" he cracked a frustrated smile 

 " yaaaay im not a total dumbass..."

 "cyrus are you ok... seriously?" 

"im...fine next chapter..." 

".........if your sure! so! did you find any similes or metaphors" cyrus felt his face grow red, he had forgotten to do that, his vision went red again and a shooting pain went through his skull.

 "FUCK FUCK FUCKUFKCUFKC" he screamed, in frustration he stood up.

 "oh shit! Cyrus are you ok" dominic had a genuinely concerned face he stood up with him like he was going to hug him or some shit. if that dick wad even tried to touch him hed beat- whoa..whoa calm down he said to himself. his vision went red, he suddenly didn't feel in control. 

 "hey...its ok... we'll figure this out, if you didnt find them, ill help you!" he put a hand on his shoulder. bad choice. his head slowly came up and his eyes were level with domonics. " cyrus.....?" he punched the other boy smack in the face. Domonic stumbled backwards and let out a cry of pain grabbing the area that had just made contact with cyrus's fist. he stared at shock at the other. Cyrus was breathing heavily and glaring at him. "I'VE NEVER GOTTEN IT AND YOUR 'HELP' WONT MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE, I DONT GET IT AND  I NEVER WELL. I DONT NEED YOUR CONDESCENDING SMILES OR YOUR LITTLE PATS ON THE BACK. " Dominic choked back a sob. hearing his friend cry brought cyrus back his vision was normal again and he stared at shock at his friend. A bruise was already starting to form under his eye and although he had only just started crying aloud there was a silent trail of tears that seemed to have been there for a while his eyes were bloodshot and  he looked in fear at cyrus."oh..oh my god dominic im so sorry, im so so sorry" he went to touch him and the other boy flinched away, he silently grabbed his bag and ran out of the room, leaving his copy of the book lying on the desk. cyrus stood in shocked silence, thank god he didnt use full force....he could've broken dominics skull..but...this was some how worse, he sunk to the ground and let out a small sob. Dominic ran through the halls trying to avoid being seen with his new bruises he almost ran into simon. "Dominic shit man are you ok!!!????" he ignored his cry, he needed somewhere private. Now. He ran into the boys restroom and slammed the door behind him, at this time of day the restroom was usually abandoned he went to the corner behind the stalls and sunk to the ground. Suddenly, he heard footsteps, he looked up hesitantly when they stopped in front of him. It was liam... "oh my god... dominic are you ok... wh- what happened to your face..?" he looked away embarrassed, he laughed a little. "oh...nothing just a little tutoring mishap is all! nothing a little water cant fix!" liam stared at him. "cyrus did that to you." "ha- whaaat dont assume...." "That ASSHOLE. hurt you didnt he!" "liam...please..." "Please go beat his face in? Sure! Let me get arana. we'll make that bas-" "STOP. its...ok..." "listen dont go back there...hes always treated you like dirt" "you know thats not true liam" he stared at the ground not wanting to look liam in the face, he furrowed his brow thinking back to how cyrus acted, "it didnt...SEEM like him.... hes not known for his temper...but he got.. MAD.."liam was quiet, he crouched down and pulled dominic into a hug. "im so sorry...i'll be right back with some ice cream" "sounds unhygienic" dominic laughed grabbing some toilet paper from the stall next to him. "its not like im gonna dump it on the ground and make you eat it there" liam flashed one of his rare smiles and hurried out of the restroom. he sighed when he closed the door behind him. He had to find Mr. Gray.                               . . . Mr. Gray at this time, had been enjoying some tea in his study when he suddenly got  a sharp knock on his door, he looked up from the highlights magazine he was reading, b/c the principle confiscated all of his....other magazines. He stood up and answered the door. "Yes- oh! Liam~ You look well!" " Gray. What did you do." "Im not sure what you mean kiddo?" "what did you do to Mclee." "that cyrus kid? oH nothing! He should be fine in an hour, i just thought we needed to, make sure dominic didnt have any doubts about whose side hes on in this fight~" "..................the kid PUNCHED him!"The professor simply shrugged and smiled going back towards his seat, "well we cant have him making friends now can we?" 

[vivaciousyellow]

y: kitchen and kokoro

dear victoria,

first of all, i’d like to apologise with much much embarrassment for how late this post came in after i’d been the one to insist on deadline like almost a month ago l o l at me

second, i love love love how you described kitchen. it’s exactly how i felt and honestly i’m so weak against the pure sentimentality that the narrator exuded through that exact kind of simple but profound style you described. the book just made me feel really nostalgic - the kind of indulgent, unproductive feeling to which i feel particularly susceptible. i wish i wrote some quotes down but just the way she expressed what home meant to her was so powerful: what she saw in different kitchens, what they told her about the residents of the house, the comfort they gave her... it made me realise more concretely what and how much home means to me.

but also omGGG victoria!!! i’m so sorry you were stuck in the cold ass fucking rain for that - and that we didn’t even make it in to burlesque to maybe take your mind off of it for the rest of night. i’m glad your mom and grandma (fuck drivers) are okay tho. and i hope your uncle is doing okay.

i’ve been trying to improve my relationship with death. i mean i’ve been pretty shielded from it but the threatening blips of its presence which have shown up on my radar and the visceral reaction they elicit suggest that i need to work on it. especially when i find my thoughts trailing over to my parents dying or getting hurt and that’s always Not Fun. especially since i’m supposedly going to Japan for an extended period of time soon. especially because my mom has all these recently accumulating physical problems that have started increasingly encroaching on her quality of life in small but significant ways, and my dad’s always so reckless, his heart is forever 21 but sometimes i feel like his mind turns forever 21 as well, and my sister. oh my sister.  

it’s amazing to me how…aggressively?? nuclear our family is. it's a product of being an immigrant family etc. etc. but as the second generation, i used to always panic that i wasn’t going to cry when second degree relatives die. then i turned 22 and suddenly im crying at most things so guess that’s not so much a concern anymore. wellp.

but yeah it’s funny to reminisce about my ~ younger days ~ when i only ever hung out with my parents and sister. they're still my everything, but definitely learning and practicing to make more meaningful connections with friends since getting into college has also been a lot, a lot of learning how to be with other people, and of learning how to go easier on myself. uhmm like crying: i’ve learned to reframe it as not something to let build up out of anxiety, just to explode out of my control then try to stop out of panic but an opportunity to willfully let feelings go and check in with myself and others. idk. basically forming intimate relationships with people is wild and y’all make me wildly feel. Personal Growth and all that shit. (gotta pat myself on the back whenever i don’t actually act like a 10 year old.)

which, segue into the books, has made reading them such a likewise affective experience. (this might be kind of spoilers?? but the plot is pretty simple, and i wouldn’t be able to spoil, like, tone and style of writing if i tried) Kokoro’s plot is loosely similar to kitchen in that it also follows the protagonist’s relationship with someone who became like family. and similarly, that person reappears in the protagonist’s life through a letter.

letters are so weird. y’know? like a physical manifestation, a snapshot of someone’s emotions in the moment. and even just the act of putting into words, feelings. i wish i studied linguistics in college, is another regret i’ve discovered. But also like once you’ve committed to writing something that’s immediately open to interpretation no matter your intention once it leaves your hand feels like a lot of responsibility - to have chosen the right words out of literal millions to perform for you whatever things you want to convey - and expectation, that the other person will understand correctly and empathize. oh! and most importantly, the hope that they’ll respond. the protagonist says during the middle part of the book that “[t]his was why i wrote letters: i hoped for a response” (88). which is so depressing. when feelings and yearnings aren’t reciprocated. which is what ghosting is i guess. actually just human connection in general. lmao i’m really just tryna get down to the really simple and obvious things in life but bear with this slow-learning bish over here.

chapter 56 particularly struck me. when the sensei frames his past, his experiences, as “personal property” to leave in the care of the protagonist (123). recently, my grandparents came to visit, and my grandma kept emphasizing that she had so many things to say to us. stories and lessons she felt incredibly compelled to pass on as soon as possible, that needed to leave her mouth unto my ears. tbh it felt a little foreboding as the recipient of this kind of energy and anxiety. energetic anxiety ? and my mom’s been talking to me a lot more often about… surviving, I guess is the word - so i don’t take so long to realize these Life Lessons. Because this is the property she’s accrued growing up, immigrating, living; property that her parents didn’t have but she can now pass on to me. i feel like there’s some sort of American Dream, capitalist metaphor/critique that can truly flourish with this idea, but I’ll leave it at this clumsy dip into the figurative waters here.

biggest takeaway of all the things my mom and grandma (and I say this endearingly) nag to me about, is 动手动脑. and, best example is this four weeks late post, but i definitely have performance anxiety and can’t get my authorial penis up when I need to, which is something i need to work on… instead of counting on myself to pull out insightful rambles a la every finals week 24 hours before the final paper is due, i should probably take notes and outline for next time. after all, there are no deadlines to inspire to sit my ass down and fight the figurative pins and needles to write when it comes to telling your own story and just thinking for the sake of thinking… 

but yeah!!! next up is a personal matter, kenzaburo oe.

much love (and chagrin @me),

ying