"i love the protean & viral nature of queer slang like i’ll go 'queen out' with my trans lesbian friends and then later hang out with a bunch of dolls and watch them queen out and realize our lesbian queening out is kinda like how the vatican is a country" --@woifekisserr.bsky.social
What string quartet cycles from after 1940 should I listen to?
"The longing imps grasp tomes of old
And rant therefrom each damned one's name."
--Betelguese: A Trip Through Hell
tarn alunissage
Vegas sin
ulan rat
"Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall
Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt."
--A E Housman
"Chance of World War III within the next year according to the Becca Metric (March 2, 2025): 46% (🔺4%)" --@silly.bsky.social
"When cattle go into a palace they don’t become the king, but the palace becomes a barn’."
"There was a moment in time when Twitter was truly Borges’ Babylonian Lottery. It was strange to live through that together, wasn’t it?" --@saintsoftness.bsky.social
On the way to a fold & dissolve model of hybridism.
"Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for thelips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion."
--Ernest Dowson
Broadcast and Pathways Through Otherworldly Villages.
