The Chronicle Of The Monk Herbert Of Reichenau For The Year 1021 Ends “My Brother Werner Was Born On

Listen. Do it for the aesthetic. If you want to fill an entire 20 dollar sketchbook with anatomy drawings fucling do it. If you wanna get lost in the woods and come stumbling home with a bag of dried mushrooms and bones you go goblin dude. You aren't alive to go to work and hurt!! You're alive because bumblebees bump into little flowers and dandelions only open up in the sun! You're alive because cats purr when you pet them and coffee keeps you up all night!! Do everything for the aesthetic!!

burning food is an inherited trait

That second paragraph is.... something alright

it isn’t that i ache, but the swell in my chest when i tilt up to look at the top of ferris wheels isn’t fear anymore. it isn’t that i ache but instead that while you and i were drunk on your living room rug and you said you’ll find love i didn’t tell you otherwise because i liked the way the words looked in the air between us. i feel no lacking, but the night is a blue that is knifeish, all silver keen like the imagined collar of my future. it isn’t that i want a specific thing, but i am wanting, the soft call of a horizon that peeks out sunsets too far to touch no matter how fast i run. 

where am i going. why am i not home here, where it is easy, and where i could build a life unseasonably sad but bearable. i could stop feeling stuck and instead teach myself this is what it means to be planted. i could say that the strange pull in me is only the desire of entropy, to unseam what should be held together.

it isn’t that i yearn, but i picture the blues of oceans and ask - is this the color that belongs to her? when i find her, will i be a better person? i fill my mouth with tongues and chocolate and good times but i cannot pin her down. maybe one day i will step through the mirror and she will be there, easily, hungry for her same ache and want of me.

home, i mean. home. 

INFORMATION I WAS NOT PREPARED TO LEARN. MAYBE WE *ARE* ALONE. BECAUSE WE ARE SO *EARLY*. IF THERE IS EVER GALACTIC CIVILIZATION THEY WILL NOT REMEMBER US AT ALL. BECAUSE WE ARE NOTHING. CELLS, JUST BEGINNING TO FORM LIFE. SORRY FOR SCREAMING. BUT ARE YOU LISTENING. ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT IT.

I see a lot of dark academia aesthetic involving the classics fields, literature and languages and theater and music, but can the STEM kids get in on this too? Where’s my dark science aesthetic at? where’s my STEM gothic?

•  It has to be a mistake, on the syllabus your professor e-mailed over yesterday. The lab class can’t possibly start at 8pm. Not that you’d notice the time of night anyway, considering that for some reason it’s held in a basement of the STEM buildings that you were sure was closed off. You’ve never seen anyone emerging from its depths, and honestly you’re not even sure how to get down there. But not to worry, your professor assures you when you reply with your concerns. He’ll send his TA to pick you up. Just try not to stare at their hand. Especially if it sparks. They’re still working out the kinks.

• The transparent lightboard you use in your apartment building for working out math equations that require more room is the only illumination piercing your otherwise dim living room. You’ve been working for hours, and haven’t noticed how late it’s become, mostly because you’re pretty sure that you accidentally just determined exactly when the world is going to end. Before you can grab your phone to tell everyone, there’s a knock at your door. “Well done,” the man and woman in dark clothes and glasses that reflect even the minor light so that you can’t see your eyes as they enter your apartment. “A little too well done, we think. You’ll be coming with us now.”

•   H2 = H 2 0 [ Ωm(1+z) 3 +ΩDEexp {3 Z/z 0 dz 1+z [1+w(z)]}

•  “We are doctors,” in heart if not yet in degree,” the neurologist teaching your afternoon class says, laughing. “We are the ones who stand between that looming reaper Death and all of our patients, scalpels and syringes in hand, and say “not today, old friend. Not this one.” But then the mirth fades from his voice, and his gaze drifts to the left of the lecture hall for some odd reason, fixed on some dark corner. “That’s why it hates us, you know. Death. All of us. We as doctors must be very, very careful in our everyday lives, because Death despises us for stalling its work time and time again, and it constantly has its eyes on us. Waiting for us to relax, to look away. There are rituals, as we get older and Death steps closer every day…” but then they come back to themselves, shaking their heads and laughing. “Not enough coffee for me today, apparently!” Shadows in the corner where no one sits seem to be shifting.

•  The chemistry majors always seem to know something that no one else does. They all keep tiny glass bottles of clove oil in their backpacks at all times, for some reason. You’re starting to wonder if it wouldn’t be smart for you to do the same.

•  The engineering majors know exactly what the chem majors think only they know, and they laugh when you mention the clove oil. “They really think that will protect them,” one future robotics pioneer says to you, shaking his head. “They really think they can stop what’s coming.”

•  Something in the forensics lab whispers at night, but only when a lone student is working down there alone. One of them snags you in the halls one morning and says, “I know you’re not forensics and you’ve never heard it before, but last night I was working on a paper down there and, well. It knows your name.”

• Your roommate is a biogenetics student. She keeps beakers brimming with bubbling fluids in the fridge, and she often seems restless and distracted. You’ve caught her stealing hair off of your brush before, and one night as you watch her mixing and stirring and taking notes as she’s hunched over her desk, you realize that a single blinking eyeball is staring back at you from the green fluid surrounding it in her glass tube.

•  The mathematics students have figured out what the chemistry students know, and what the engineering students have known for years. They all look anxious now, walking around campus and constantly looking over their shoulders. One of them suggests to you that maybe you should start stockpiling bottled water. Just in case.

•  An astronomy major comes barreling into one of your classes one dim and dying afternoon, slapping a star chart down onto a desk in front of a newly enlightened mathematics student, sweating and furious. “You weren’t even going to tell us, you bastard?! You were just going to let it happen while we sat around unprepared?!”

•  A week later. You sit up in bed and your roommate is gone. Their things are gone. Campus is still and quiet, the chem and engineering and astronomy and mathematics students having all cleared out save for you. The bio, forensics, and med students are left blinking, dazed. Clearly you’ve all missed something important, but your roommate responds to your text with assurance that it’s fine. You’ll all know soon enough.

"Have you ever had that feeling—that you'd like to go to a whole different place and become a whole different self?"

"I’m still wandering through the streets, looking, sitting by the sea, enjoying the sunshine. I am entirely alone. I don’t know anyone, no one knows me, and for me that is a great pleasure."

hanya yanagihara, a little life / haruki murakami, the wind-up bird chronicle / stand by me (1986), dir. rob reiner / donna tartt, the secret history / phoebe bridgers, i know the end / daniel clowes, ghost world / j.d. salinger, the catcher in the rye / nikos kazantzakis, from a letter to galatea kazantzaki / lora mathis, how to disappear in the modern age / moonlight (2016) dir. barry jenkins / richard siken, the torn-up road / sylvia plath, the bell jar

physics girlboss moment of the day scheduled an interview at the country's largest accelerator nothing can stop me now

you've heard of healing your inner child now get ready for me healing my inner undergrad by telling my students I'm proud of them and highlighting their accomplishments at every possible opportunity

Edinburgh. A golden throne…

© Tom & Laura Scotland

fuck you education system for making it seem like physics is a terrible subject