You know what they say about everything? Nothing.
The fucking irony of it all is I’ve spent so much time biting my tongue that now it’s all red with two whitish grooves on it.
Just as many animals writhed in needless pain and misery, just as many children died of starvation, just as many women were raped, just as many people feared the consequences of war and violence, and just as many faced the prospect of disease. Just as many people stayed poor, just as many of the factors leading to climate change increased, and just as much neglect and cruelty paid for the privileges and comforts you enjoy unthinkingly. Just as little effort was expended to address these issues.
It’s I with a capital N. Or me with a capital Y.
Similarity is for apes as correspondence is for angels.
I am spending my morning re-turned to Baudelaire.
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All for the sake of THIS relationship to language
All possible worlds already exist in each actual life.
Throw away my bones, my flesh and pulp,
As well as my veins, fat and peeled skin;
Take my blood – like the juice of the red tulip,
Like a drop of dew, like tears of a forsaken lover –
Pour me into a royal vat,
And watch over this sealed vat for a year.
(Manučehri, Divān, No. 20, p. 39; tr. Seyed-Gohrab)