'dull

twenty facts

I was tagged by roslynstvincent and I accept

  1. My name is Josh. 90% of close friends call me - and pretty much all acquaintances know me as - Ox to the point where a lot of people now genuinely don’t even know my real name.
  2. I live in Sheffield, England.
  3. I’m 23 years old and completely without direction.
  4. I’m a coalminer’s son.
  5. When I was younger I always wanted to work with animals. First as a vet, then as a zookeeper, then again as a vet, then later as a zoologist/natural historian and to this day I’m still not sure how or why I let this get away from me. 
  6. I’ve always considered myself a ‘dog person’ but it’s been pointed out numerous times now that my own personality is far more cat-like. I accept this.
  7. My favourite piece of music in the whole world is The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams. It moves me in ways I can’t even put into words so I won’t try. The close runner up is A Piece of the Sky by Swans. Play both of these at my funeral. No service. No speaking, no mourning, just the best music.
  8. My heart has properly broken twice and the second time was the worst and honestly I’m still waiting to get over that. I haven’t gone a single day in the entirety of 2014 without feeling sick in the pit of my stomach about it and I can’t wait til this is no longer the case.
  9. I try not to make a habit of making idols of human beings but I would count Tony Benn, David Attenborough, and Brian Wilson as the closest that I have to personal ‘heroes’.
  10. I play bass/various other bits in a band called Every Animal On Earth. We’re currently recording our debut album after over 2 years of lineup changes and releasing nothing at all and it’s been so long coming and I genuinely have a lot of faith in it. It is honestly the only tangible thing I have to look forward to in my life.
  11. I’ve lived in South Yorkshire my whole life and I love it to death but I often think about moving, for however long, to either Paris, Edinburgh or both.
  12. I talk in my sleep and my ex told me that I once said ‘Lord Bath is the greatest Lord, rest of em are cunts’ whilst sleeping. This was and is still a fact. 
  13. When I was younger I never knew that gat meant gun and this meant that whenever I heard Biggie’s ‘all I wanna know is where the party at, and can I bring my gat’ line in Party and Bullshit, I thought he was talking about bringing a gateau.
  14. I’ve never seen a live badger.
  15. I’ve never broken a bone or had any injury or illness other than a common cold.
  16. This is odd because my diet and general lifestyle are both appalling. I’m pretty much convinced that it is all saving itself up to erupt as something terrible and fatal.
  17. I own a talking budgie called Budge and our family pet is a springer spaniel called Sally who is pushing 15 years old now and who I no longer see so often since leaving home. I love her so much.
  18. My favourite films are The Straight Story, Eternal Sunshine, and Brassed Off and all three will make me weep without fail.
  19. Speaking of films, I have an auto-soft spot for anybody who still calls the cinema ‘the pictures’.
  20. Ich bin ein Berliner.
  21. You all seem like truly Good people and I actually get an embarrassing amount of comfort from using this site and I thank you guys for that and you are all more than welcome to talk to me or visit me irl any time should you be passing through.*

I tag senatrixx, bringthesuntoussaintlouverture, dogwithhat, thisguyknowswhatimtalkingabout, gaaaaaaahghjgakjgjghj, doyoulikeheadgames, eyebeeleaveewe, visceralnoise, illvibras, mpiedlourde

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"Part of the fun of the screenplay is that it plays with tropes from teen films of the past." - Darren Stein 

mccoydarling asked:

Please talk forever about Helen and ancient greek you are so enpoint

in the iliad helen speaks the last lament for hector. the only man in troy who showed her kindness is slain—and now, helen says, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν, all men shudder at me. she doesn’t speak in the iliad again.

homer isn’t cruel to helen; her story is cruel enough. in the conjectured era of the trojan war, women are mothers by twelve, grandmothers by twenty-four, and buried by thirty. the lineage of mycenaean families passes through daughters: royal women are kingmakers, and command a little power, but they are bartered like jewels (the iliad speaks again and again of helen and all her wealth). helen is the most beautiful woman in the world, golden with kharis, the seductive grace that arouses desire. she is coveted by men beyond all reason. after she is seized by paris and compelled by aphrodite to love him against her will—in other writings of the myth, she loves him freely—she is never out of danger.

the helen of the iliad is clever and powerful and capricious and kind and melancholy: full of fury toward paris and aphrodite, longing for sparta and its women, fear for her own life. she condemns herself before others can. in book vi, as war blazes and roars below them, helen tells hector, on us the gods have set an evil destiny: that we should be a singer’s theme for generations to come—as if she knows that, in the centuries after, men will rarely write of paris’ vanity and hubris and lust, his violation of the sacred guest-pact, his refusal to relent and avoid war with the achaeans. instead they’ll write and paint the beautiful, perfidious, ruinous woman whose hands are red with the blood of men, and call her not queen of sparta but helen of troy: a forced marriage to the city that desired and hated her. she is an eidolon made of want and rapture and dread and resentment.

homer doesn’t condemn helen—and in the odyssey she’s seen reconciled with menelaus. she’s worshipped in sparta as a symbol of sexual power for centuries, until the end of roman rule: pausanias writes that pilgrims come to see the remains of her birth-egg, hung from the roof of a temple in the spartan acropolis; spartan girls dance and sing songs praising one another’s beauty and strength as part of rites of passage, leading them from parthenos to nýmphē, virgin to bride. cults of helen appear across greece, italy, turkey—as far as palestine—celebrating her shining beauty; they sacrifice to her as if she were a goddess. much of this is quickly forgotten. 

every age finds new words to hate helen, but they are old ways of hating: deceiver and scandal and insatiate whore. she is euripides’ bitchwhore and hesiod’s kalon kakon (“beautiful evil”) and clement of alexandria’s adulterous beauty and whore and shakespeare’s strumpet and proctor’s trull and flurt of whoredom and schiller’s pricktease and levin’s adulterous witch. her lusts damned a golden world to die, they say. pandora’s box lies between a woman’s thighs. helen is a symbol of how men’s desire for women becomes the evidence by which women are condemned, abused, reviled.  

but no cage of words can hold her fast. she is elusive; she yields nothing. she has outlasted civilisations, and is beautiful still. before troy is ash and ruin she has already heard all the slander of the centuries; and at last she turns her face away—as if to say: i am not for you

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