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a forest in a furtive lake

@guildenstern / guildenstern.tumblr.com

🌿 lorne // he/they // dyke 🌾
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cemeterything

just got this email from the library confirming my reservation of house of leaves is finally available and i can't get over their decision to attribute it to the fictional made up author from the book instead of the actual guy who wrote it

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cemeterything

getting the full house of leaves experience before i even start reading the book

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womenintheirwebs
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aridante
“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

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flebus
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thesunnahthebetter

A message from a brother in Gaza addressing all of us as we continue to live our lives as the genocide goes on:

"From your right upon us is that we feel joy for your happiness. From our right upon you, is that you don't forget us, even in your joy."

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unthinkingclunk
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houseofpurplestars

"Make Contractors Afraid Again:

Posted on November 15, 2023-

On the night of November 13th we set fire to 6 Ernst concrete trucks at 553 Seaboard Industrial Drive. Ernst is pouring the foundation for Cop City. This site, like so many others, is completely unguarded.

Front-pouring cement mixing trucks have large rear engine compartments which can be accessed without opening any doors. We placed incendiary devices and kindling near the engine block, the fuel tank behind it, and the double rear tires. We encourage further experimentation with incendiary placement.

There was a time when contractors were afraid to take on this project. If we can make the cost of the contract greater than the profit, they will drop it. Sneaking around at night is fun and burning shit is cool."

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unthinkingclunk
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roundtop

if you are a fan of the poem "what resembles the grave but isn't," you might be interested to know that the poet, anne boyer, resigned her position at the new york times magazine today, and her letter is worth reading in its entirety.

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sashayed

"If this resignation leaves a hole in the news the size of poetry, then that is the true shape of the present. "

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jinzouacting
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genuinelyshallow

Now, Palestinians lost their right to even be just numbers.

"Yesterday, Israel achieved one of the main objectives of its war against Gaza's health organisations. The death toll of thousands has been causing a worldwide uprising of anger against Israel, which increases every day as the numbers increase. With the health system collapsing, the health administration can not count the numbers of deaths and injuries. Starting today and to the end of the war, perhaps even years after, we won't know the real death toll. They will be buried in mass graves or be left in the open or under the rubbles for their corpses to rot. We would have liked to say that Palestinians are humans, lives, faces, and names, and not just numbers. Now, Palestinians lost their right to even be just numbers. The world was too cheap to leave them with even just that"

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cryptotheism
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memecucker

There’s nothing funnier than American Trad Caths revealing that they’re just Presbyterians that think Baroque looks cool