#phew. writing these answers out... restraining myself from going on too long.

[fastasyoucan1999]

brynn hi hello!!!!! 20 + 13 + 17 for the book asks please <3 i want to hear all your thoughts you are just so cool!! xoxox hope your flights goes well MWAH!! <3

liv hiii!!!! and stop it youre making me blush... the flight is over which i'm thrilled about! how are you what are you thinking abt tell me!

what was your most anticipated release? did it meet your expectations?

i'm not much of an anticipator! i'm really not a part of the wider book culture... i have no clue what's happening out there..

i guess braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer? i'd heard some fantastic things about it and it did for the most part meet my expectations! i think it dragged around the middle and towards the end.. but nearly every essay had me on the brink of tears (pls i'm begging take this with a grain of salt. i cry at dove commercials, and at those barbie ones where five year olds are lecturing to a college class and then it fades out and they were playing with a barbie the whole time...)

uhh and true grit by charles portis... it did come out in the 60s but. the cashier told me i'd love it and he was right. i did

what were your least favorite books of the year?

you're a pot stirrer. do we need to talk more about the seven husbands of evelyn hugo? bc i will. what a bland dry shallow book. it was so.... lackluster? ineffective? unoriginal? i just found it boring on all fronts. i've never read a book that left me with so little after i finished it. i can't even talk about it at length bc it's already slipping from my mind; it might as well have not existed.

also moby-dick. felt like pages were added the more i read. it was some sort of never-ending infinite silk-pulled-from-a-pocket magic trick. shocked and appalled that somehow more pages kept appearing after i finished one... i would've dnfed it but i was reading it for a class :/ and my prof was so kind, she reminded me of jessica day and she loved moby-dick. she loved it so much. so i read all of it for her <3 despised every second

the monk by matthew lewis and the italian by ann radcliffe. classic classic gothic literature. so much happening... so little actually being done. i do however respect how incredibly horny both of them were.

did any books surprise you with how good they were?

east of eden... persuasion by austen... but i'm going to answer this indulgently and say i reread gregor the overlander by suzanne collins. and though i wasn't surprised by how good it was bc collins is fantastic and i trust her implicitly... i just feel the need to emphasize what a masterclass in middle grade fiction the underland chronicles are. whatever youre thinking when you see 'middle grade fiction' literally erase it from your mind bc the series beats out everything i've ever read. percy jackson kid this harry potter kid that... hit me up if you know anything about giant rats and the casualties of war ok

[chatterbox-meta]

On Narrative Consequence

Or, a meta on how every single one of Katsuki Bakugou’s and Enji Todoroki’s misdeeds have directly or indirectly resulted in their misfortune.

Before I begin, I would like to say sorry for postponing other metas I’ve promised to write in favour of this meta. Well, I say meta, but this is more of a rant than anything. Namely, by writing this, I am mostly venting my frustration with a certain belief somewhat widespread in the MHA fandom - that Katsuki and Enji have never been properly punished for anything they did.

First, let’s examine what “proper punishment” even means. The answers probably vary from person to person, but the most consistent ones I’ve seen centered around legal punishment, verbal calling out and, sometimes, an “eye for an eye” type of retribution. I’ll get to the last two later, but the first one - legal punishment - is genuinely not something either Katsuki or Enji have gotten.

“But Chatterbox! That means the people who say they weren’t punished properly are actually right!” Well, yeah, if this was real life then legal punishment would be the only appropriate response for crimes like spousal and child abuse, as well as certain bullying tactics like suicide baiting.

However, My Hero Academia is not real life and Katsuki and Enji aren’t real people. They’re fictional characters within a narrative and that narrative has a way of dishing out its own punishment. Just because the two of them haven’t been sent to jail/juvie doesn’t mean they were immune to karmic narrative punishment. Such punishment is obviously not possible in real life since karma doesn’t exist, only direct action, but in a story like MHA, the author can write events to serve that purpose.

With that in mind and to put it bluntly, you’d have to ignore large chunks of canon to claim the two weren’t punished. In fact, many events in MHA are designed to hit Katsuki and Enji specifically where it will hurt them the most and in a way that will make them learn their lessons and retain them. Let’s go over the things that happen to them and what actions led to that.

Katsuki Bakugou starts off the series as a bully convinced he’s standing at the top and determined to keep our loveable protagonist Izuku down because, deep down, he (perhaps irrationally, at that point) believes Izuku has whatever it takes to surpass him and fears the failure and loss of identity that would mean for him. Of course, this merely explains his actions and doesn’t justify them, so what is his punishment?

Well, the punishment the narrative decides for him is making those fears come true.The entire story until about the end of S3 (so, for the first 120-ish chapters of the manga) is about Izuku being built up and Katsuki being torn down.

Sometimes this is done incidentally (the Sludge Villain case, which both shakes up Katsuki’s belief in himself as the strongest and leads to Izuku earning One For All, while also serving as karmic punishment for Katsuki going too far with his bullying earlier*), but most of the time it’s a direct result of his mistakes (his loss to Izuku in the Heroes vs Villains excercise/DvK1, him being unable to reach out to Shouto to bring out his full power like Izuku did at the Sports Festival, his temper tantrum attracting the League of Villains and costing him any respect he might have earned by winning, his attitude making him fail the provisional license exam while Izuku passed, etc.).

*(Obviously this only works as punishment from a narrative standpoint, anyone who says a real 15-year-old deserved to almost be murdered because they were a bully is, uh, not someone I’d want to associate myself with.)

I already went into depth about precisely what and how Katsuki loses over the course of the series in this very long character analysis, but the tl;dr version is that he goes from believing that he is the strongest and Izuku is the weakest to believing that he is the failure who caused All Might’s end and Izuku is the prodigy chosen to be All Might’s successor. Izuku keeps building up his self-esteem while Katsuki keeps losing it. In other words, his punishment for trying to tear down Izuku is being torn down himself.

Some would argue that this doesn’t count because Izuku didn’t tear him down personally and instead that this is just the natural and inevitable result of Izuku getting stronger and Katsuki having to face reality. Putting aside that a character like Izuku wouldn’t want to personally tear him down, here’s where we go back to the verbal calling out, the “eye for an eye” and the more “direct” punishments.

A shocking amount of people believe that Izuku has never called out Katsuki for his behavior, some even going so far as to say that Izuku doesn’t realize what Katsuki’s doing is wrong due to Stockholm Syndrome or something. This infuriates me because it is supposed Izuku Stans doing a disservice to Izuku’s character. While it’s true that Izuku doesn’t hate Katsuki himself (I go into detail about why here, along with the reason why he’d forgive him), but he absolutely hates a lot of his actions and can and will let him know that.

Even way back in S1, when he is still a meek terrified kid, he stands up to him. When Katsuki confronts him after the entrance exam and threatens him, Izuku doesn’t budge, he tells him that he’s going to UA and there’s nothing he can do about it, causing him to back off.

During DvK1, despite Katsuki acting more unhinged than usual and trying to either beat him up or provoke him into using OFA, Izuku looks him in the eye and tells him the insulting nickname he gave him is now the name of a hero. He even kind of taunts him by saying he has Katsuki’s weaknesses recorded in the notebook Katsuki burned and threw away!

And he keeps doing it! When they have to work together to fight All Might and Katsuki refuses to do so, even lashing out violently, Izuku yells at him right back and even punches him hard eventually. Granted, it was mostly because it looked like Katsuki would give up on the one thing Izuku admires about him instead of for revenge, but still.

Izuku accepts Katsuki’s challenge in DvK2 not just because he wants to give Katsuki a chance to let out his emotions and find answers, but also because he wants to air his grievences (what he really thought of Katsuki, how it felt to chase after him) and give Katsuki answers in the form of a resounding “I’ll surpass you” and an OFA powered punch to the face.

Another common claim is that the adults and kids around Katsuki never do anything about him. This may have been true in middle school, but UA? Aizawa restrains him and negates his Quirk the second he tries to attack Izuku during the Quirk Apprehension test and tells him to stop wasting his talent after DvK1. When Katsuki grabs an unconscious Shouto by the shirt after their match, Midnight knocks him out and then he’s chained and muzzled.** All Might spells out what he’s been doing wrong after DvK2.

**(Sidebar: it amuses me that this is called out as inhumane treatment and too harsh punishment, even though the adults had no way of knowing whether Katsuki would attack again or what it would take to calm him down, by the same people who claim Katsuki isn’t punished enough. Well, which is it?)

The adults absolutely intervene when he steps out of line. And even when they don’t, they tend to have a reason. All Might didn’t stop the Heroes vs Villains excercise because he knew that if he stepped in, Izuku wouldn’t feel like he’s proven anything, to himself or to Katsuki. He didn’t step in for Izuku’s sake, not Katsuki’s.

As for the End of Term Exam, Aizawa didn’t put Izuku on a team with Katsuki because he “wanted Izuku to get along with his abuser,” but because he knew that Izuku had great leadership and cooperation skills except when he’s with Katsuki and his inability to force difficult people to work with him would cost him in the field. Besides, neither Katsuki nor Izuku can afford to have bad blood between them in high-stakes situations. It might be harsh, but Aizawa was doing it for both of their sakes.

The only thing the adults could have done differently is come up with a more long-term solution to the problem, preferably by actually talking to the people involved, but this was aknowledged after the duo broke curfew to fight.

In conclusion, Katsuki has, in fact, absolutely been called out by the people around him and punished by the narrative thouroughly.

Phew, that got longer than I planned... Where was I? Ah, yes, Area Man Misplaced In The Role of Father.

Enji Todoroki spent his life desperately trying to reach All Might’s spot as number one hero. When he feared his own skills would never be enough, he hatched a plan to get into a Quirk Marriage and then make one of his offspring surpass All Might in his place. Why he thought that was a good idea, I don’t know, but it fits the psychology of the typical Stage Mom, living her, uh, I mean his dream vicariously through his child, Shouto.

In any case, in order to accomplish his goal, Enji was willing to use any means necessary, icluding brutal training of a toddler, physical violence against his wife whenever she tries to interfere and... whatever... happened to Touya. Nothing outside of that goal mattered to him, “unsuited” children like Natsuo and Fuyumi (who presumably only or mostly inherited Rei’s Quirk) were tossed aside and ignored.

So, how does the narrative punish this sorry excuse for a hero, father and husband? By giving him exactly what he wanted, the number one spot? Apparently so!

“But Chatterbox! Isn’t that Endeavor being rewarded by the narrative?” You would think so, but interpreting it that way is actually completely missing the point of Endeavor’s Arc! Because everytime I think of how it’s presented, I’m reminded of a line I might have heard in Disney’s Princess and the Frog: “Did you get what you wanted? S’ what you got what you need?”

After All Might’s retirement, the number one spot was left open for Endeavor to take his place. This is what he’d wanted for a long time and believed he would never get himself. But Endeavor didn’t earn that spot, he was given it, and he knows it. He may have taken his place, but he never truly surpassed All Might and, now that he’s out of commission, neither he nor Shouto (who doesn’t seem to care anyway) ever will.

In other words, every single one of his efforts, every horrible thing he’s done to his family up until that point... It was all for nothing. He may have been at least somewhat aware that what he was doing was indeed horrible but just surpressed that knowledge for the sake of achieving his goal, but now that his goal has amounted to nothing and he feels lost and aimless, he’s finally forced to reflect on his deeds.

But even asides from that, who is Endeavor, the hero with the most solved cases in history, the one who saved countless lives? Well, not much of a number one hero, even with his family situation not being public knowledge, it turns out. After Kamino, the people didn’t just need a hero who would defeat villains, but a hero who would reassure them that everything will be okay and discourage criminals by his mere presence. That he would uphold Peace. Endeavor’s victory never felt more hollow, because the people don’t need him, they need another All Might.

So, Endeavor approaches the man himself for advice. But Toshinori tells him he can’t be him, nor should he attemt to. The age of All Might is over and the public needs to accept that, if they want to prove to Shigaraki that they can go on without him. Toshinori thinks Endeavor should be his own hero, the kind of hero people like Hawks saw in him, the only one who wasn’t lured into complacency by All Might; the tenacious, dedicated and efficient powerhouse against whom villains wouldn’t dare stand against.

And yet, that, too, feels hollow. Because even if All Might and Hawks believe in Endeavor, even if the rest of society comes to believe Endeavor... What does any of that matter for Enji Todoroki? The man who ruined his family for the sake of his own ambitions? Enji now knows that he’ll probably never be a true hero, let alone number one, because of what he’s done, even if the entire thing remains a secret.

Still, he has no other choice. He’s number one, understanding for the first time the enourmous pressure and burden that comes with the position. And, of course, the villain attacks, leading to Enji getting his face torn open by High End, coincidentally (really, within the narrative, it’s not a coincidence at all) on the same side that Shouto got his burn scar. But that is fine, because for the first time he’s fighting not for the sake of his ambitions but for the society that needs a pillar, no matter how unstable or rotten it is beneath its shiny and sturdy marble surface.

For that reason, though this is never expicitly stated, he can’t even “properly” punish himself by going public with his crimes - imagine the utter trainwreck the new number one hero revealing himself to be a former abuser would be, in the wake of the chaos and uncertainty caused by All Might’s fall? When it comes to his family, atonement really is the only option at this point.

So Enji’s punishment is getting exactly what he wanted, at the cost of carrying the world on his shoulders knowing he’ll never be what it needs, getting disfigured and having to face his broken family. Speaking of, what about that family? Aren’t they letting him get off scot-free? Contrary to popular belief, no.

Natsuo doesn’t want to forgive him or even aknowledge his efforts to change and be the hero they can be proud of, he wants nothing to do with him. Shouto is willing to see those efforts and is curious to see what the results will be, he wants Enji to make good on his words, but he still agrees with Natsuo and doesn’t forgive him or want him in his life beyond the pragmatic uses of his experience as a pro. Above all else, he wants to carve an identity outside of his father’s former wishes and outside his hatred for him.

Fuyumi does forgive him unconditionally, but it has less to do with Enji genuinely earning her forgiveness and more to do with her desire for a happy, normal family. Rei also seemingly forgives him, but for her, it might simply be a desire to let go of the hatred that made her scald her child’s face. It would be so easy for her to simply blame all of it on Enji, but she can’t, not all of it.

And Enji himself certainly hasn’t forgiven anything, nor does he demand forgiveness from others and fully accepts the consequences of both his sins and his dream.

I don’t think Enji’s quite done paying his debt yet, there is still the issue with Touya and I bet the LoV would be salivating at the chance to expose him if they found out (in fact I hope that happens, not because I have a thirst for punishment but because I think it would be a fantastic plot), but so far, he definitely hasn’t gone unpunished.

Before I end this long-ass rant (holy shit, this has gotten way out of hand), I have one more thing to address: what is the purpose of a punishment? It’s to stop bad behavior and make the perpetrators realise what they’re doing is wrong. In that way, I believe the narrative punishment of Katsuki and Enji was successful.

So, what, exactly, would even be the point of “properly” punishing them further? Vindication? For whom, the characters or certain audience members?

Again, in real life, learning your lesson, feeling regret and trying to do better isn’t a get out of jail free card (though certain places do prioritize rehabilitation over punitive justice, finding that the former significantly lowers the rate of re-offending), but in fiction, priorities are different. It’s not about making things even (would anything ever make them even?) or treating characters “fairly” or teaching the audience basic morals, it’s about what would be the most interesting to read about.

Everyone’s opinions are different, but honestly?

The story of two boys growing past their relationship as a bully and a victim, past even the destructive rivalry of tearing each other down, and embracing the relationship of pushing each other past who they are now by borrowing each other’s best qualities?

And the story of a man who wants to be a father and a hero even though it might be impossible, of a family that might just one day find closure in the belief that all the years of suffering amounted to something in the end?

I’d take those over some sanctimonious, heavy-handed morality tale of an ao3 “fix fic” any day. Yes this entire rant is actually me being salty after seeing too many self-righteous “I’ll adress what Horikoshi won’t uwu” fic authors, fucking sue me.   

[smalltcwnkiids-blog]

Kill Me” (Cartman.. yeh I have no loyalty (:)

Drabbles

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

* Murder, Gore, Torture, General Dark Themes, Cartman, This is way too long to be a drabble, Seriously these warnings are here for a reason Cartman is disgusting.

He’d had enough of Scott Tenorman. That had been decided long ago, but it he was more fed up than he had ever been before. Scott was annoying- a dick with no respect, despite all Cartman had already done. So if ‘taking care’ of his family wasn’t going to work.. he’d just take care of Scott.

“Wakey wakey, ginger fag.” The words were said with a faux sweetness, though he stood to the side glaring at the restrained body. He’d managed to slip Scott some drugs that knocked him out long enough to be taken to a basement and tied up- though not gagged. No, Cartman wanted to hear Scott beg and cry like the pussy he was.

“Aren’t you just the picture of grace.” Cartman snorted after the words, making his way over to Scott as the ginger slowly cued into the basement around him.

A cold, thin blade of metal was slipped under Scotts chin, the end poking into his throat as his head was forced to tilt upwards until Scott stared right up at his half brother.

“Hey, Scott.” A sickening grin came across Cartman’s face as he spoke, staring down at the older boy already with triumph and a disgusting glee in his eyes. “Shhh, don’t talk yet. Let me go first.” The blade under Scott’s chin slowly drew back, being tilted just enough to leave a shallow cut on his chin. The butcher knife was lifted to Cartmans face soon after, his gaze focusing on the gleaming metal as he began a tangent.

“You’re tied up in my basement. It’s pretty soundproof down here, by the way, or I’d have you gagged. I’m not stupid. But you can beg for help if you want...” He trailed off, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see if Scott would do anything but glare. So far, a respectable victim.

“Anyways, you’re probably wondering why you’re here. Although I think it should be pretty obvious,” The knife left it’s position in front of Cartman’s face to be used as a pointing tool, aimed right at Scott’s face. “I’m sick of your shit, Scott. I’m sick of you acting all high and mighty, and threatening me with stupid shit, that’s just copying me, all because you couldn’t handle a simple revenge plot for the bullshit you pulled in the first place. I’m also sick of every other fucking thing you do around this place. I can’t trust you to stay in fucking Kenya if I send you there, so obviously, there’s just one answer. And now I’m a big enough boy to do it myself, instead of getting some old guy on a farm to shoot you down! Though, that would be a pretty fuckin’ sweet full family kill.”There’s a pause as he pulls his knife back from Scott’s face, tapping it against his chin as though it were nothing more than a long fingernail.“Maybe I could shoot you dead... but not before I have a bit of fun, obviously. I need more out of this than just you finally being dead- where’s the satisfaction in that? Oh, wouldn’t it be fun if I put you into a chili bowl? I could probably sell it. Maybe to those faggy friends of yours?” A grin crosses his face as he entertains the idea, before he crouches down to be face level with Scott.

“Oh, I like that idea. Thanks, Scott.” He taps the blade in his hand against Scott’s cheek, before standing back up and letting out a sigh.“Well! Let’s get this shit started. Feel free to start begging, screaming, insulting me..... whatever helps you out. It’s gonna be... a long night.”

Still wearing a sickening grin, he makes his way over to a table that had been tucked against a far wall, placing his butcher knife down and turning back around with a pair of pliers- eyes glinting in the yellow lighting of the basement.

“This one? Is one of my favorites. I’ve heard sometimes they make people do it to themselves, but I don’t trust you like that, Scott. So I’ll do it instead!” He squeezes the pliers a few times as he makes his way over, grabbing roughly at one of Scott’s tied wrists before leaning in and speaking through grit teeth. “I’m going to declaw you like a fucking cat.”

One by one- purposefully slow and carefully done at the start, it gradually processed to grabbing a nail between the pliers and immediately pulling with all his might. A swift kick to the side whenever Scott squirmed too much. It didn’t take much more than 5 minutes for Cartman to remove all 10 fingernails off of Scott’s hands, the nailbeds now bleeding freely at the trauma that had been inflicted.

“Phew!” Cartman pulls his arm across his forehead, now bloody pliers still in hand, as though to remove sweat. “Now, see, normally I’d let that sit for a while. Maybe a day or two so it has time to heal over a bit. I want to torture you long term so fuckin’ bad... but Kinny’s coming over for a horror movie marathon in 2 days, and we agreed to have it in the basement, so I need you done by tonight and out by tomorrow. So I guess we’re just gonna have to move pretty fast!”

He nearly speed walks back to the table, unceremoniously dropping the pliers before turning around with a sledgehammer now in hand.“I’m a little short on anything... fun.” He seems almost disappointed to be using a sledgehammer, making his way back over to Scott and once more crouching in front of him.“Aw, are you already crying, Scott? Was the declawing not fun for you? No?” He puts a little pout onto his face, reaching up as though to wipe away Scott’s tears, before pulling back and backhanding him.

“Man up, you fucking pussy. We still have my hammer and my knife. You better not fall unconscious on me. I’ll even be nice,” He stands up, lifting his sledgehammer as he forces one of Scott’s legs out- stepping on his foot in order to keep him from pulling away. “I’ll only break one leg.”

With that he brings the hammer soaring down, landing right on Scott’s kneecap with a resounding crunch , bone crumbling inwards at the hit. A cackle escapes cartman as he lifts his hammer back up, pulling his foot back now that he was fairly certain Scott couldn’t move his leg.“I’ll just break it, really bad!” His hammer comes swinging down once more- and a few times after, breaking Scott’s bones more and more until- hopefully- all that remained was splinters and small chunks of bone. It would never heal- not that it’d have the chance.

He ends up tossing the hammer behind him, not even towards the table, as he moves to once more be face to face with Scott. Squishing his face in one hand, a manic grin on his face, bloodlust, mania, and utter joy visible in his eyes.“Still with me, Scottie?!” His voice is raised now, another cackle escaping as he tosses Scott’s face away from him and towards the ground, standing up and making his way back over to the table.“We’re on the last round, now.” He turns around, butcher knife back in one hand, the other holding a syringe. “And I want to make sure you’re with me for it!”He shoves Scott around with his feet until the ginger is laying on his back, leaning down and plunging the syringe into Scott’s shoulder before stepping over him and crouching down just over Scott’s torso, one leg on either side.“It’s Adrenaline. Just enough to keep you awake, not enough for you to fight back. I made sure I got the dosage just right. I was worried you’d pussy out before this.” He pats Scott’s cheek twice, nodding. “Glad you’re still with me, fucker. This part wouldn’t be fun if you were already gone.”

With that he stepped back, still with one leg on either side of Scott’s body, before dropping into a sitting position on top of his brothers upper legs, slapping Scott’s stomach.“I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon. Good to start practicing early, right?”With that he reaches up and inserts the knife just below Scott’s chest, not too deep, and begins to pull down. Managing to open up his stomach while just barely scraping some organs.“Hmmm.” He dropped the knife, reaching forward with his bare hands in order to poke at a few random choice organs. Smiling at Scott’s obvious reactions to the sensations.“Just as I suspected... perfect chili ingredients, right here. Ripe.” He lets out a bark of laughter before reaching in and picking an organ at random, letting his hand close around it and slowly lift it up. 

“Mhm.” He nods as though its been inspected, dropping it just back on top of everything else before standing up and stepping over to Scott’s side, picking the butcher knife back up before sitting next to Scott’s head.“You know, Scott. If you somehow come back to life, I’ll have to plan another one of these for you. A better one. But for something done within 2 hours- this was pretty good. And, there’s the bonus-” He leans down, staring directly into Scott’s eyes before grinning and, of all things, licking Scott’s falling tears off of his face, much as he’d done years ago. “Your pain is just as delicious as I remember.”Face still hovering uncomfortably near Scotts, he brought the butcher knife over, and slid it directly into the side of Scott’s neck, watching as the life rapidly began to drain from his eyes.

“I’m going to piss on your trash can grave.”

That is, after intensive clean up. God damnit.

[restlessmuseum]

nomen amen (or “paraphernalia”: back by popular demand)

                                    (where books compete for space with pottery)

We were already halfway through interminability. Away all redundancy of deficiency from the page, the tear from the past to mend us about to rampage. This far we had not said anything good but perfection required, in tone and content, inexplicable. (1) I found the crux in the posture to device, like an impostor happens in his tender, (2) a damage done like the wrapping paper of a ducked present. (3) Under the stance of unison, the shallower I read between the lines the further I'm improved from the time of my oversight, (4) the unison becomes the sound she phews down to my very being, like but the rest I forgot about... Sorry, got it wrong. Actually, I wanted to continue this something started spreads ago, but the prose screeches and cackles around its ineliminable inexactitude. I really don't feel like resuming anymore, or should I say, I'm done boggedly running after the end of my premises. Yes something happened, something to investigate in a whole other direction. So, gonna take all, this will be the first part. I wish I could express revolutionary philosophisms, I thought I could be a poet because I'm unable to be an essayist and a novelist. I'm not good at public speaking. I entered Tumblr to be found by publishers and make money: I had a system of truths and truly nothing else to say. Besides, what did this idea of klein Lebensdarbietung mean? Is the text doing its characters or are these ones setting out their own words? Text's abolition of today, which is nothing but "the sentences already written, the sentences that people say, the sentences yet to write; verses, words, spacings, texts' dissemination, whatever you want, about the purely sign-linguistic-textual" (cit.) verbatim et literatim, and here is another example of my strugglings to go on properly. In any event it is clear that we are moved when required, except the exempts. (5) It is always the most unexpected time to undergo the aha entanglement. In constant foresight I guiltily prepare to hindsee the neglect and with confambulatory prowess I succumb to the development in this underpass of construes. How much do we match with our sounds? — asking myself. In this respect I'm afraid to surprise me onstage like the surrenedered one (and here onpage, ah foolishness, as playwright). But if I leaf compulsively through hundreds of pages, that's to find my words not belonging to me, and the others to fight (me) with. As I am nearing the open conversation, I make up my mind never to read me. Tons of notes, reproaches and scratchpads. Tons of work to do. And I have to get rid of the old adjustments once and for all. (6) Electra the yet-signed. You like the simple words, the ones you recognize already written, the crystalline syllabification that enoculates the wholeness of an order babbling sibyllinity downstream. You carry on with the work of literature: how the body absconds at the risk of space and time with them. Imperfect doubling, mirror images, and repetition in her practice. Topical scratches. Interceptors sought in everyday life — like unspeakables — that she then distorts to create the straight path in reverse. Poetry will not touch her, because poetry is just the unwritten complexity going wrong side along the process of self-becoming, a recent installation, midway between marble and corporal desires in an ascending scale of hardness. (7) Listening to the closest friends, the process of self-becoming could only linger primarily in the sight of aesthetic, then morality, then religious status quo. But friends come always as a closer, blind alley, at the end of tears: a misunderstanding at first, then never read enough. (8) It is often the case that the practice of consensually agreeing to one's own mental performance and self-image by means of meddled languages and lineages may become a genuine bondage of freedom. The restrained partner can derive any drift in the set of possibilities so that we use to say the doing is more important than the outcome. (9) The doing is in uncomfortable or painful positions, for example as a punishment: then, easily it tends to be forgotten, because unforgivable. That's why the effect is the same as a verbal collage, but 1) rips are often behind schedule or on borrowed time, "out of sync with the fade" (cit.) hearth of what seems to be the Pentecostal tongues of fire; and 2) metaphors like "the rope of telephone charades" or "the coils of something wound in the form of a revolution to come is the licking of sugar injury, met since the starting point" are not allowed. "Real me is way more concerned with" (cit.) the Transcaspian line that follows the pattern of a crosswording of the desert. (10) Rather than holding on to me tight I choose to distance myself from what I'm being forced to watch daily. Dies irae dies illa desirable. Without prejudice to this last inescapable point, the first issue represents the Derridean crux of the matter, about which I will be saying something bad in the wrongest moments, since my voice is as effective as my unsuccessful rewrites. I just want, by using the instruction books, the border of this drama, accelerated and hence trespassed in time into ridiculousness, to be experienced as the comedy it is. There is a hour of the wolf and there is a hour the wolf is afraid of. When the time is right I'd like you all to be safe to be spared in my turn from this construction beyond good and better. (11) Here you shine white with noise. "Sonorous cobweb" (cit.) made of only one thread, the unbent line of homeostasis at long last kept in crisis. (12) This narration should have had a different common thread. "And yet", imprint, "it moves" (cit.) as sensible prose. Prose of proses. The dispelled thing, spilled on Tumblr, disseminated. The seedbed: descendants, everspring off, family. The planting postdisposed. All going as planned. (13)   When I know that I don't know where to start a carving, I start a list of synonyms or unyoke a fable from a series of rereadings. What excommunication if you can't subvert the strainer? (14) Once upon a time Electra, beloved only sign of her father, has a brother. Agamemnon possesses the actuality and practicality of the dead: he wants to see water circulate water in laminar rheumatology and freshness sculptures out of tempered air. [director's note: the Argolis' scene isn't even entitled to melt!]. She eats anise candies and unwarmed foods without a problem. She is so lovely when she urinates first thing in the morning, holding the head in her hands, graeaean ownership. Yes, I'm worthy of attending to the offertory on the altar of love. So many congratulations against my behalf that the opposite seems true. (15) "A woman with long hair is not a simple point of view" (cit.). She's got a prompt night's sleep and reasonable. We cling to angelic accidents. We are clung to our soundtrack. (16) Indeed love is not "the panic subsidence onto the body" (cit.) [director's note: can we let the body become finally soaked in real pornography and never mind, here?] but sheer faith for a symbolic subject who's shattered fully loyal. Intermediate sprint of a life midpoint crossroads that lead at the same destination to flee from. (17) Because, as it goes, her staple is such a volitive confidence meaning to me the wait of the powers that created us, the coincidence of both of us makes our skewness on my side of the derangement. Averted word, when addressed. I am a bad Greek at the time of Christianity and a bad Christian on such dysfunctional divertissements. Who knows how ethically important it is today? I retain it, ending up forgetting everything else, and am lookin' very bad. (18) Of course the movement is diminished in certain directions; the style more flattened upon my chosen sickness that we now have no use for, after the setting of the starting stances; I suffer from more severe erections. An acquired kurtosis distributes my monodimensional remarks as the fourth cumulants in order of precedence. Still a lot of exercise to get. Busy like the evermentioned forgettables I'm at that stage where it's difficult for me to even do difficult things. Wrongstaged, I can't compete. I only challenge. (19) Therefore coincident like the two norths of which one is sinking liminal in the perfectly unsaid of your perfect cues. In one fell swoop you pone the part and mastery. And in the next. And the apnea for the answer back. Teeth gouged by the opposite of words in formation for a smile. The winky face par excellence. Here's the real spectator of my vocalized character. I wedge the self with a puny malapropistic idioticon to spread now that I'm a simplex person. As long as I continue to improve in (furtive, it has to be) apprenticeship I'm losing abilities. Old mistakes reappear, no inspiration from mumpsimuses. (20) Where adults flutter, she, disemvowelled and free from frills, spoken by the plural to be inscribed in the Sophoclean, in the Euripidean, in the Hofmannsthalean, in the Yourcenarian script, lost in tv shows and blatant phone calls, is, for me, abused of notations but who am I to denounce such an effusive happiness? There's nothing she can't Netflix. (21) No banana peel on the slope of her singularity — reversible up to a point, interchangeable up to a point, genderbending up to a point from the same side of view. Slotting minims in the same tone as the main characters. That the same out-of-turness is imbricated. (22)

Virtuosity was painlessly flaying the secret from the kids. This is tragedy. We all know what everyone should have said, sorrows come only after. We see each other for sure and too well. Find your trace in the deep of your prompter's heart. Dimmable glow of ancient times. Under guillotine percentages, under curtain at half-mast, under the veils in the dance of the seven veils. What am I trying to say? (23)

In the floodlights' gloom, without changing the rules of the game, exit khorós. With whom would you listen to you speaking? (24) Woods of brightness wherever, it makes me want to expect your coming deaf-handed right therever, the braindomed untrodden order of phrases where roommouths around it are opening. (25) A substratum, but rather as two shadows they finally vest themselves without amendment, and just drag on this semi-detached ward where it just doesn't feel like our theater anymore. So that there may well be the laetum and lethean occurrence of a new polarization. (26) It is no coincidence that here you're always cold and pale. What a cutie! (27) But maybe that's just too much information. Now would be the time to shut up even more. Already being in the manner for that: being at one with the template versus falling back into the patient subjectivity to agency, to make war and to make love with the weapons of the unconditional surrender. The book is that inferring the timbre of each Klagesprache. (28) Like the current situation could return to equilibrium because of an indefinite vocabulary which is still fighting us pressurers. We come across the unilaterality of it every day. Its constitution. (29) But infinity alive doesn't exist. We can approximate it in the endless rummaging and musing. (30) Approximation is worth nothing. We get sick for the words that once beguiled us. The limits of infancy don't set. And now I just -ess the world in voluntary silence nonexperienced. (31) With plex I brux my certainty and centuries. Party time abounds. (32) Clause: applause. (33)