( via / via )

CULTURE IS APPROPRIATION.

   Buffalo Soldier
in the belly of the Peacock
   heeds the speed zone

perilous in the long run
& writing notes to yourself

"When I was about twenty, I remember sitting in my room one night, annoyed with something my housemates were up to, and a bit bored with whatever my other friends were doing. It was one of those evening where you just feel aimless, off-balance, agitated. There was something gnawing at me, but I didn’t know what. Then, out of nowhere, a procession of sirens passed by my house. I mean there were fire trucks, police cars, a few ambulances, lots and lots of noise—sudden, alarming noise; then, nothing. It was dead silent for maybe a second or two before the sirens picked up again. This time they seemed to come from every direction, as though they were surrounding the house. But the pitch was off, all wobbly, a weird vibrato, like electronics trying to run on nearly-dead batteries. The sound wasn’t coming from the sirens at all. It was an animal sound. It was every dog in the neighborhood at once attempting to imitate the noise. None of them could do it quite right, but damn were they going for it. It felt simultaneously sad and triumphant. It was the exact moment I decided to be a writer."

"For a while the far-right nationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky —a nationalist of a decidedly non-Duginite, non-Eurasianist variety— was campaigning to eliminate the letter ы from the Russian language, on the grounds that it had entered the language in the first place through infection from Turkic Tatar — the letter in question is roughly equivalent to the modern dotless Turkish ı, the close back unrounded vowel that is the counterpart to the more familiar front vowel i." -Justin Smith-Ruiu on his substack

I: Illusion.