передышка

вот это моя новая обсессия

"Ведь сегодня-завтра будет вчера, а еще вчера-сегодня было завтра"

 крутая песня

Dolgoruky

Posting this just because this is my 2nd final class for this Dostoevsky grad course.

the feels. it's just too much. i want to read more depressive stuff T_T

On the second part of Подросток (The Adolescent, alternatively translated as A Raw Youth). Arkady Dolgoruky is kinda annoyingly cute. He's the kind of son that I would like to adopt and spray water guns at all day.

Also posting this because this course is likely my last one with Holland teaching - this is my fifth course with her now. I've taken every possible course that she teaches in the department. What an incredible teacher - possibly the best one I've ever had.

But still - 3 more response papers to submit, a prospectus, and a final thesis paper.

My cheesiest corniest essay topic yet - "Dualism in Dostoevsky's Demonology". Expect more suicides, existential crises and a higher body count.  And of course, seizures and tuberculosis.

Not forgetting self-proclaimed fake Jesus(es).

Oh hell.

bodies

well what the flying fuck.

3 posts in a row. with the F-bombs.

why must creative impulses surface at the most untimely moment when I am literally shitting essay papers out of my ass? *sighs*

So I've decided to get back into poetry. No, not those mellow sighs in verse bullshit that are spurred on by ennui when I have nothing better to do with my time.

But really really getting back into it. This verbal war that I trade with those who try to oppress my individuality, telling me that I should pay fines wherever I choose to park my body.

I realized these past few days that I have shit tons of anger within me. It's about time I channel it into this strange language where exiles, non-conformists, and the outcasts dream and wage wars in.

Working on a series of verses titled 'Bodies', inshaAllah. 'Original sin' (see previous post) is the first. Another one is on the way, if my clinically depressed addled brain permits it. Hopefully I'll be more productive throughout this summer.

In the meantime, I'm giving your patriarchal-fascist-imperialist claptrap another multiple middle fingers.

Zero fucks given to misconstrued verses telling me that I belong in hell because of what I have between my legs.

Hooyeah.

introspection

rants of a dying feminist who seeks refuge in her pen, struggling against the tide, so that she won't get diluted under the crushing wave of that imperialist ink.

and also, trying to be happy.

yes. i want to be happy.

i don't know where to seek for help anymore.  :(

well, fuck.

original sin

drawing his finger

at the length of my skirt

it won’t hurt, he says

but they don’t know

as they pass by

that I cradle his sin

between these ravished thighs

with my crimson lips

I unwittingly entice

his darkest vice

but they don’t see

when they pass by

that I pay the price

in these vacant eyes

the curve of my bosom

unknowingly tantalize

his noble guise

but they don’t listen

as they pass by

that I’ve lost my Eden

in these muffled cries

*sighs* I should get back to writing my essays...and yes, the whole Steubenville case just pushed me over the edge this week. 

I need to be that angry poetess again