motherjones:nedhepburn:

The Falling Man, by Tom Junod.

They began jumping not long after the first plane hit the North Tower, not long after the fire started. They kept jumping until the tower fell. They jumped through windows already broken and then, later, through windows they broke themselves. They jumped to escape the smoke and the fire; they jumped when the ceilings fell and the floors collapsed; they jumped just to breathe once more before they died. They jumped continually, from all four sides of the building, and from all floors above and around the building’s fatal wound. They jumped from the offices of Marsh & McLennan, the insurance company; from the offices of Cantor Fitzgerald, the bond-trading company; from Windows on the World, the restaurant on the 106th and 107th floors — the top. For more than an hour and a half, they streamed from the building, one after another, consecutively rather than en masse, as if each individual required the sight of another individual jumping before mustering the courage to jump himself or herself.

Departure' takes it's meaning from the Old French for 'the action of death.’

WRITING AND ANALYZING A STORY

"I think it should be remembered that characters in a short story have not the size and importance and capacity for development they have in a novel, but are subservient altogether to the story as a whole."

- Eudora Welty

4th of July - X

As it turns out I’ve never seen The DaVinci Code. I have however seen National Treasure, and confused the two.

…Kind of a lot.

Anacrusis (n.)

"Unstressed syllable at the beginning of a verse," 1833.

Latinized from Greek anakrousis ”a pushing back,” of a ship, “backing water,”
from anakrouein ”to push back, stop short, check,”
from ana- ”back” + krouein ”to strike,”
from PIE *kreue- ”to push, strike”
cf. Russian krusit, Lithuanian krusu ”to smash, shatter,”
Old Church Slavonic kruchu ”piece, bit of food,”
Old English hreowian ”feel pain or sorrow,”
Old Norse hryggja ”make sad”.

“My narrators aren’t English professors, and I don’t want them to sound like they are.”

Someone Who Really Needn’t Worry About That (via thenotes)

Something I have not yet figured out how to explain or write about in a way that will be either purgative or cathartic is how much I hate Brett Easton Ellis.

(Source: theparisreview)

ELIXERS OF THE DEVIL

I wanted to pray, when I became aware of a bewildering rustling. Persons whom I knew to be gentle were distorted into the wildest caricatures. Heads moved along on crickets’ legs attached to their ears and sneered at me. Strange fowl - ravens with human faces - whirled in the air. I recognized the concettmaster from B. with his sister, to danced madly to a waltz which her brother played on his chest, which served as a violin. Belcampo, with an ugly lizard’s face and mounted on a ghastly winged worm, violently approached me and wanted to comb my beard with a red hot iron comb…”

- E.T.A. Hoffmann

wigboiler:

encaustic tests, 2012

Hey everybody.  I’m getting back on the internet.  I’ll write a big long post about life at some point soon.  For now I’m just trying to figure out how the hell to use tumblr and wordpress and all of these other things.  I feel like things were a lot easier to understand when it was just filezilla, notepad and me.  

Take note, friends. A genuine rebirthing is a rare thing to behold.

Q: The king is dead. Do you suspend his head from the ceiling and bury his body beneath the floorboards so that his heart might float at eye level?

A: Get in the fucking robot.

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