Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

Clarice Lispector, A Hora Da Estrela  (via 5000letters)

(Source: splitterherzen, via 5000letters)

The Primitivist Critique of Civilization

Richard Heinberg

A paper presented at the 24th annual meeting of the International Society for the Comparative Study of Civilizations at Wright State University, Dayton, Ohio, June 15, 1995

Do You Love to be Needed, or Need to be Loved?

How often have you heard yourself say, “I’m a giver, not a taker”? Have you experienced discomfort when receiving something from another, whether it’s a kind gesture, favor or gift? Do you know what it’s like to be in a reciprocalrelationship? If these questions are triggering familiar sensations, it means you started learning this inclination in childhood, and were made to feel that receiving supplies of attention, affection and emotional support came at a substantial cost to your parent(s). As a natural outcome of this, you began putting the needs of others far ahead of your own, because doing otherwise meant punishment, guilt and/or shame.

Aspergers Traits (Women, Females, Girls)

5) We learn that to fit in we have to “fake” it. Through trial and error we lost friends. We over-shared, spilling out intimate details to strangers; we raised our hand too much in class, or didn’t raise our hand at all; we had little impulse control with our speaking, monopolizing conversations and bringing the subject back to ourselves. We aren’t narcissistic and controlling–we know we are not, but we come across that way. We bring the subject back to ourselves because that is how we make sense of our world, that is how we believe we connect. We use our grasp of the world as our foundation, our way of making sense of another. We share our feelings and understandings in order to reach out. We don’t mean to sound ego-centered or over zealous. It’s all we know. We can’t change how we see the world. But we do change what we say. We hold a lot inside. A lot of what we see going on about us, a lot of what our bodies feel, what our minds conjecture. We hold so much inside, as we attempt to communicate correctly. We push back the conversational difficulties we experience, e.g., the concepts of acceptable and accurate eye contact, tone of voice, proximity of body, stance, posture–push it all back, and try to focus on what someone is saying with all the do’s and don’ts hammering in our mind. We come out of a conversation exhausted, questioning if we “acted” the socially acceptable way, wondering if we have offended, contradicted, hurt, or embarrassed others or ourselves. We learn that people aren’t as open or trusting as we are. That others hold back and filter their thoughts. We learn that our brains are different. We learn to survive means we must pretend.

link: http://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com/2012/02/10/aspergers-traits-women-females-girls/


Cinema Paradiso (1988)

(via afrometaphysics)

She doesn’t write: writing ‘comes upon’ her.

Helen Oyeyemi, from Boy, Snow, Bird (via violentwavesofemotion)

Monster" is derived from the Latin noun monstrum, "divine portent," itself formed on the root of the verb monere, "to warn." It came to refer to living things of anomalous shape or structure, or to fabulous creatures like the sphinx who were composed of strikingly incongruous parts, because the ancients considered the appearance of such beings to be a sign of some impending supernatural event. Monsters, like angels, functioned as messengers and heralds of the extraordinary. They served to announce impending revelation, saying, in effect, "Pay attention; something of profound importance is happening.

My Words to Victor Frankenstein: by Susan Stryker  (via arabellesicardi)

(Source: onmonstrosity, via arabellesicardi)


Dear Diego,

Mirror of the night.

Your green sword eyes inside my flesh. Waves between our hands. All you in the space full of sounds- in shade and in light. You will be called Auxocromo- the one that attracts color. You are all the combinations of numbers. Life. My desire is to understand line, form, movement. You fill and I receive. Your word crosses all the space and reaches my cells that are my stars of many years retained in our body. Enchained words that we could not say, except in the lips of sleep. Everything was surrounded by the vegetal miracle of the landscape of your body. Upon your form, at my touch; the cilia of flowers, the sounds of rivers respond. All the fruits were in the juice of your lips, the blood of the pomegranate… of the mammee and pure pineapple. I pressed you against my breast and the prodigy of your form penetrated through all my blood; through the tips of my fingers. Odor of essence, of oak, of the memory of walnut, of the green breath of ash- Horizons and landscapes that I crossed with a kiss. A forgetfulness of words will form the exact idiom to understand the glances of our closed eyes.
You are present, intangible and you are all the universe that I form to the space of my room. Your absence shoots forth trembling in the sound of the clock, in the pulse of light; your breath through the mirror. From you to my hands I go all over your body, and I am with you a minute, and I am with you a moment, and my blood is the miracle that travels the veins of the air from my heart to yours.

The Woman
The Man

The vegetal miracle of my body’s landscape is in you the whole of nature. I traverse it in a flight that with my fingers caresses the round hills, the… valleys, longing for possession and the embrace of the soft green fresh branches covers me. I penetrate the sex of the whole earth, its heat embraces me and in my body everything feels like the freshness of tender leaves. Its dew is the sweat of an always new lover. It is not love, nor tenderness, nor affection, it is the whole of life, mine that I found when I saw it in your hands, in your mouth and in your chest. In my mouth I have the almond taste of your lips. Our words have never gone outside. Only a mountain knows the insides of another mountain. At times your presence floats continuously as if wrapping all my being in an anxious wait for morning. And I notice that I am with you. In this moment still full of sensations, my hands are plunged in oranges, and my body feels surrounded by you.


( From Frida Kahlo’s Diary, A Love Note about her husband )


I’ll come back when I can. Not to you, though. To everyone else,

…and I want
to live my life all over again, to begin again,
to be utterly

Mary Oliver, from A Meeting (via violentwavesofemotion)