I made Russian apple pie for a picnic out. It seems everyone has been lacking some fresh air lately. There is also a good bottle of wine, if the pie doesn’t tempt you (diluted, of course. We are not making libations). Around 4 in my garden, how does that sound?
Tag yourself. I’m C. I don’t like having nicotine stick to the tips of my fingers, and this way I can still use my hand for other things, like taking notes.
Well, since some of you seemed to voice interest, I will post a little something I wrote a while ago. It was meant to become a small collection of mythology based poems - contemporary, as I have to admit I have never been skilled in writing rhyme myself. So far there are only 3 pieces. But perhaps I will find time to extend it in the near future.
What your farovourite “The Secret History” hacracter says about you
Richard - you need acceptation and friends. You underestimate yourself and probably listen to hozier or the neighbourhood
Francis - you are probably the “Heather” & you can pull off ony outfit. You also kinda need emotional support
Camila - kinda basic choice but i mean, you are not wrong. You are definifley the cool kind of person, no one hates you, you are probably mom of the group & you have strong opinions
Charles - you holdin up? You need some emotional support? Also, you are probably toxic
Henry - you are little bit pretentious but you are liked by everyone, althrough you don’t like everyone. You like having everything planned ale you are probably more intelligent than you think. I like u
Julian - you need more friends or just miss your dad. It is probably not your fault, but you tend to procatinate despite being ambitious.
Bunny - you eighter don’t exist or just can’t get over something traumatic
what do you mean, i can’t just daydream until the end of my days about highly aesthetic and perfectly detailed written stories and be the mysterious forgotten character who secretly becomes part of the story?
What always amazed me is how Richard always said what a great friend Bunny was after his death despite everything that happened during the story.
Bunny was a shitty friend not only towards Richard, but also towards the rest of the group and Camilla who Richard was supposably in love with.
I’m not saying any of them were good people, all in saying is Bunny was not great either.
He was a misogynistic homophobe who took advantage of everyone around him without the ounce of gratitude and was ready to expose any little secret when he pleased.
He treated Francis badly. He treated Camilla terribly. He bullied Richard with presumptions about him and California. Richard was scared of him.
And then Bunny died (with a little help) and Richard spent the rest of the book saying I miss my good friend Bunny, my non-horrible, non-problematic friend who was deep down a good person.
What a load of flying crap.
I know that in most cultures people are not supposed to talk ill of the dead but dying doesn’t make nobody a saint. If he was a misogynistic homophobe, now he’s just a deceased misogynistic homophobe.
“Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies.”
-“Poetics” by Aristotle (chapter IV, The Origin and Development of Poetry)
~
“ ‘Aristotle says in the Poetics,’ said Henry, ‘that objects such as corpses painful to view in themselves, can become delightful to contemplate in a work of art.’ ”
Our philosophy professor asking us if we like Heraclitus, and then proceeding to tell us how he lovesHeraclitus is the equivalent of Henry Winter asking Richard Papen if he likes Homer..
“Cracking open a ginger ale in the harsh cold of October with brown rimmed glasses sliding down my nose bridge ever so often, I tried to find warmth in the layers of my coat. To a random passer-by I certainly looked mad as I gathered up small, yellow leaves to mark the quotes in my book-but I’d like to think that the characters adorning those pages would have been infatuated by me. Franz Gordon’s “The French Library” was blasting through my ears, and yet it was unsuccessful when it came to taming down the noise of the outside world. Cars were racing left and right, their engines roaring and klaxons honking repeatedly. In some ways the noise had been appropriate, it matched Richard’s state of mind whilst he was in Plano. Oh, but the headlights were horrific, they made my eyes hurt terribly, and even words blurred up from time to time. The ginger ale wasn’t sitting right with me, more so, it was actually making me sick; yet, I continued to drink it. Was that a form of self-torture as well? Probably, I didn’t care that much. I was so absorbed in the book, that finally, the world had turned silent. Recently, I had learnt that there is no stillness in big cities. There is no time for rest, silence and peace. The world of men appears too never be silent. Even the nights are noisy. I had craved silence and solitude for so long and rereading “The Secret History” has finally brought them to me.” -an excerpt from my journal entry
Me: I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.
Me: *Accidentally killing a farmer while in the midst of Dionysian revelry with my friends because our charismatic classics teacher told us that Bacchanals are fun and cool*
If I saw a group of pretentious-looking but very attractive nerds wrongly conjugating Greek verbs, I would simply not join their Dionysian murder cult. RIP to Richard Papen but I’m different.
