oppressive breath

something that has usually worked for me in the Bad Times is just. Giving myself an hour. no i don’t want to wake up. but i tell myself. get up. and if in an hour we feel worse, we’ll go back to bed. i say to myself: you don’t have to like it. you just have to do it. sometimes i get to the end of the hour and go back to bed. but a lot of times after a shower and water and maybe doing some jumping jacks or stretching i feel better. there’s a lot to do in an hour that makes it a little less oppressive to breathe. picking out good clothes, putting on good music, doing your makeup so tight it forms a blade, texting a friend, making tea, trying a new hairstyle, making an omelette. it’s gotta be up though, nothing in bed, nothing still, nothing just sitting and staring into the void. it’s got to be moving. creating things helps. journalling helps. but not in bed. 

i think we who are mentally ill kind of got. a double dose of inertia. and sometimes the push it takes to overcome that inertia keeps us in bed. but i have found a lot that just. starting to move. helps. even a little. because if you’re up you might as well make the bed. and you might as well go to one class - you can skip the second if the tired gets worse. and once you’re at that one class, you make it to the second because why not. 

it doesn’t always work. but give yourself an hour. sixty minutes. say: okay. it’s gonna suck and that first push might take all of our effort and we might sit on the floor for an hour and if that happens, fine, we’ll go back to bed. but then you tried. you got up and tried. and something about that makes the guilt a little less harsh and makes you feel a little bit more powerful and the next time you wake up and your body wants to sit on the floor, you say: no, thanks, we did that yesterday and my hips still hurt. let’s see if i can shower. and maybe you sit in the shower instead but you did take a shower so it probably counts. there’s a lot of power in baby steps. i believe in you. and i think you can do a lot with those sixty minutes.

Chained To London

Pairing- Kit Harrington x Reader

Warnings- smut, BDSM, pain play, mild degradation, language.

Summary- Your last night in London turns out better than excepted.

A/N- I do NOT advocate novice whip/flogger use as it can be very dangerous without extensive training. Always be safe!

@elizlyn

thank you chica! Thanks for dealing with my drunk writing and all the great feedback! XOXO

@hypnodollie

this one was for you my love!

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viperofsand  asked:

The idea of the HP world thinking THE CHOSE ONE may be a squib is SO HILARIOUS thank you for this.

the thing is, no one can figure it out if it’s true or not!! 

FIRST OF ALL: saiki made it into hogwarts. he got sorted by the sorting hat. and you can’t get sorted unless you’re magic; it’s common sense. saiki has got to have magic. but – there is the story of a squib who managed to make their way into hogwarts, all the way to the great hall, before they were found out. who’s to say that a squib couldn’t fool them all entirely? 

SECOND: saiki has a wand. granted, a wand that no one has ever seen him use, but a wand nonetheless. students bring up the possibility that it was just stolen off someone else, or it’s just an elaborate fake, and it isn’t really his – but some of the pureblood kids did some snooping with all their old connections, and that wand was sold to saiki by ollivander. no one can say exactly what happened in the shop that day, but the facts are: ollivander’s wands choose the wizard, and if saiki isn’t a wizard, then how could he have gotten a wand? 

maybe ollivander took pity on him, someone suggests. maybe ollivander gave him a wand that wasn’t his. or maybe what ollivander gave him wasn’t a wand at all. if they can just steal saiki’s wand and test it out, maybe it will give them some answers. 

but no one can ever find saiki outside of class. no one can find where he keeps his belongings, either, and every time they come close, some incident mysteriously crops up to distract them away. 

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In this instant life is so sweet
To soothe the heart the mind repeats:

Oppressors who poisons prepare,
Will not succeed, late nor soon.
What if they have put out the lights
In Love’s alcoves? Let them beware
Can they ever snuff out the moon?

-Faiz Ahmed Faiz

I am not suited for concert giving; the public intimidates me, their looks, only stimulated by curiosity, paralyze me, their strange faces oppress me, their breath stifles me. But you —  you are destined for it. For when you do not gain your public, you have the force to assault, to overwhelm, to control, to compel them.
—  Frédéric Chopin to his friend, Franz Liszt
In my dreams the world was ennobled, spiritualized; people whom in the waking state I feared so much appeared there in a shimmering refraction, just as if they were imbued with and enveloped by that vibration of light which in sultry weather inspires the very outlines of objects with life; their voices, their step, the expressions of their eyes and even of their clothes – acquired an exciting significance; to put it more simply, in my dreams the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterwards it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.
—  Vladimir Nabokov, from ‘Invitation to a Beheading’
Please don’t let yourself be frightened away from me, if it’s at all possible in this unstable world (where, if one is swept away one is simply swept away and can’t help it) — don’t let yourself be frightened away from me, even if I disappoint you once or a thousand times or just now or perhaps always just now. As a matter of fact this isn’t a request and isn’t directed at you, I don’t know where it’s directed. It’s only the oppressed breathing of the oppressed chest.
—  Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

My Dream
by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Read by Helena Bonham Carter

Hear now a curious dream I dreamed last night,
Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth.

I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled
Like overflowing Jordan in its youth:
It waxed and coloured sensibly to sight,
Till out of myriad pregnant waves there welled
Young crocodiles, a gaunt blunt-featured crew,
Fresh-hatched perhaps and daubed with birthday dew.
The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend,
My closest friend would deem the facts untrue;
And therefore it were wisely left untold.
Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end.
Each crocodile was girt with massive gold
And polished stones that with their wearers grew:
But one there was who waxed beyond the rest,
Wore kinglier girdle and a kingly crown,
Whilst crowns and orbs and sceptres starred his breast.
All gleamed compact and green with scale on scale,
But special burnishment adorned his mail
And special terror weighed upon his frown;
His punier brethren quaked before his tail,
Broad as a rafter, potent as a flail.
So he grew lord and master of his kin:
But who shall tell the tale of all their woes?
An execrable appetite arose,
He battened on them, crunched, and sucked them in.
He knew no law, he feared no binding law,
But ground them with inexorable jaw:
The luscious fat distilled upon his chin,
Exuded from his nostrils and his eyes,
While still like a hungry death he fed his maw;
Till every minor crocodile being dead
And buried too, himself gorged to the full,
He slept with breath oppressed and unstrung claw.
Oh marvel passing strange which next I saw:
In sleep he dwindled to the common size,
And all the empire faded from his coat.
Then from far off a winged vessel came,
Swift as a swallow, subtle as a flame:
I know not what it bore of freight or host,
But white it was as an avenging ghost.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed appropriate tears and wrung his hands.

What can it mean? you ask. I answer not
For meaning, but myself must echo, What?
And tell it as I saw it on the spot.

@dr-khalii @fear-and-control

The air in the tunnel was murky and oppressive and felt like breathing through a thick rag soaked with algae, but the band of three pressed on.  And what a band they made–a literature professor and ex-rogue, one of the GCPD’s few competent agents, and the bird companion of the former’s current quarry.  If he had the breath to do so, Alexander would have laughed at the situation’s utter absurdity.  But he found he had to conserve it if he wanted to make it to the end of this mire.

And make it out they did–the tunnel finally gave way to a spot of light, which revealed…

“Ah.”

A Warning to the People

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After what happened yesterday, the 9th of November 2016, I felt that I had to write something.

I’m going to tell you a story. No, I will tell you about a situation, about a historic period that is not so different than the moment we’re living in.

To let you undestand this story, we have to came back at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century. First of all we have to remember what happened in the last years of the 19th century.

The 19th was a cetury of riots and fights. Many nations fought for indipendency and unity. Italy and Germany are the best examples of what happened in those years.

In the 18th of Jenuary 1871, Germany was unified. For the entire century, philosophers, writers, artist, celebrated the German spirit and nationalist ideals were spreading. This situation is the basis to understand the following events.

So, as I’ve said I was going to tell a story. This story began at the end of the First Wolrd War, in 1919. Officially the war ended with the Treaty of Versailles. It ended thw war against Germany. Infact that Treaty was hard and humiliating for the defeated nation. Germany was forced to disarm, make territorial concessions, and pay high reparations. Germans reacted agaist these conditions as a insult to the nation’s honour. Anyway, they had to pay high reparations. This contributed to impoverish the already damaged economy. The country was devasteted by hunger, uneployment. In addiction inflation  reached appalling  levels so as to reduce the mark to a mere waste paper. The riots,  were the order of the day and the government appeared too weak to stem the protests. The specter of a pro-Bolshevik revolution was always more concrete. In political landscape emerged the figure of Adolf Hitler.  He thought that Jews and Communists were responsible for Germany’s defeat. He was nominated leader of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party. His party had a military organization through the SA that were used during the Munich putsch, a failed coup attempt in 1923 . Hitler was arrested  and in prison he wrote the Mein Kampf, where he explained his ideas. From 1925 to 1928 Hitler and his party began to have more and more consent. Nevertheless the Nazi Party lost the elections in 1932. But thanks to  the line opponent divisions, to clever political moves and delicate alliance mechanisms, Adolf Hitler nominated  on the 30th of Jenuary 1933, Chancellor of the Reich. At this point we have to understand why a nationalist party had such an increasing success. The answer arrives from America: the Great Depression. In the 1929 there was the Wall Street Crash, the most devastating economic depression of the 20th century. It affected worldwide. The Great Depression hit Germany hard. With the Wall Street Crash America was no longer able to finance the loans to help rebuild the German economy.The unemployment rate reached nearly 30% in 1932, reinforcing support for the Nazi and Communist  parties, causing the collapse of Social Democratic party. Hitler ran for the Presidency in 1932, and even if he lost to the  Hindenberg in the election, it marked a point during which both Nazi Party and the Communist parties rose in the following years. Hitler’s success is based of the support of the middle class that was hardly hit by the economic crisis. Farmers and veterans, instead, were attracted by ideals of folk, the mith of purity of blood and and land. On the 30th Jenuary 1933 Hitler gained power.  Using  the pretext of the Reichstag fire , Hitler issued the Reichstag Fire Decree on the 28th February 1933. The decree suppressed much of the civil rights guaranteed by the Constitution of 1919 of the Weimar Republic in the name of national security and the  opponents of the regime, where jailed. At the same time the SA launched a wave of violence against trade union movements, Jews and other “enemies”.(Seems familiar?). He gained his power legally, and was always popular until the end of the regime. He was an incredible speaker, and  with all the media under the control of his propaganda chief, Joseph Goebbels, he  was able to persuade Germans that he was their savior from the depression, the communists,  the Treaty of Versailles and the Jews.He wanted to make Germany great again! (It reminds me something). Once he became Führer, his campaing against Jews. In 1935 were promulgate the Laws of Norimberga. According to these laws Jews lost their status of German citizens and were expelled from government employment, professional bodies, and from its economic activities. They were attacked by the propaganda. These restrictions were further exacerbated, especially after the anti-Jewish action of the night between 9 and 10 November 1938, known as the “crystal night”. Since 1941 the Jews were forced to wear a yellow Star of David in public. Well at this point we all know what happend to Jews, gays,opponents, gypsies, disabled people.

I wrote this because nowadays, in the 2016 we’re living in a very similar situation. I felt that we need to remind where fear, desperation and anger could brought us.

As in 1929 we are experiencing a severe economic crisis that has brought poverty everywhere. All citizens are oppressed and want to breath. In addition the recent terrorist attacks, increased immigration have led  increased xenophobia, the fear of foreigners. In the past were the Jews today are the Muslims. Right-wing governments are pressing on these factors to fuel hatred and violence. Not only fear of foreigners but also fear of difference. The members of the LGBT community continue to be discriminated hated, killed, persecuted. Look around, listen to the newspapers, pay attention to your workplace, school, cities. Hatred, bullying, violence are commonplace. The right-wing governments have more and more success.
An economic crisis, poverty, labor crisis, fear, violence, racism, misogyny, sexism. With Trump in power this is what we have, with Trump to power the right-wig of countries are stronger. I do not know what the future holds but analyzing the facts I know what could happen. Please, study the past, do not forget,  not let it happen again. I know it’s hard, I’m afraid too, I found myself being intolerant sometimes, but we are humans. we need to listen to our rationality and remember that we are all equal. 

It was unlike her to complain about the summer here, but she had noted twice recently that we had not remained in our special places where the season is celebrated. We found ourselves instead where suffering was commonplace, if only because the humidity lived and breathed and oppressed us, as though that element of the region had manifested as a playground bully. The insects didn’t hum; they shrieked, egging on that bully.

“October will be here when we wake up in the morning,” I said.

“But this is August,” she said, not quite arguing the case, but leaning in to me as she always did to indicate some great curiosity.

I was too tired to pretend along with her. 

“Don’t put on that you’ve forgotten how this works,” I replied.
“If October is coming to rescue us, then we might just as well be languishing in June. October is tomorrow, because it has always been tomorrow. Just as we have always walked in that early mist, tomorrow, and as we have always lied on the grass under a cloudless sky, that same afternoon. Fall is always with us, and it will be with us again, yesterday. The colors are here now, tomorrow. I know you can hear them rustling.”

“You’re sweet to spell it all out for me again,” she said. Or would have said, if she had been there.

from I Am This House   Green Vincentine

17 of My Favorite Kafka Quotes

                                     Kafka, by Andy Warhol. 1980

Today is Franz Kafka’s 132nd birthday.

Franz Kafka is perhaps my ultimate favorite letter and diary writer, and definitely one of my favorite writers, period. Despite the charm, and wit he exuded towards those fortunate enough to see it, he was a shy, complex being, and very prone to intense amounts of melancholy, and self-loathing, I feel. In typical Cancerian fashion (sorry I love astrology), he felt everything so deeply, and his spirit could be easily bruised. I’d love to know what else his chart consisted of.

The way Mr. Kafka expresses his deepest fears and desires ruins and inspires me at the same time, in that, I know what he’s going on about, thus he consistently tugs at my heart, and shatters me. And this way of writing encourages and inspires me to never separate the personal from literature. Naturally, because I write poetry, there is always an element of truth, but like Kafka, it is shrouded in mystery. But the quotes below are not very mysterious at all. They are mostly, some of my favorite excerpts from letters and diaries he wrote. And they couldn’t be more astoundingly beautiful, and heartbreaking.


1. “..[H]ow could I, fool that I am, go on sitting in my office, or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and opening them only when I am with you?”

2. “How can one heart, one heart not entirely sound, bear so much discontent and the incessant tugging of so much desire?”

3. “Oh God, I wish you were not on this earth, but entirely within me, or rather that I were not on this earth, but entirely within you; I feel there is one too many of us; the separation into two people is unbearable.”

4. “Nothing holds me. Let me say that I myself have torn myself to shreds.”

5. “20 July. A small bird flew out of a nearby chimney, perched on its edge, looked about, soared, and flew away. It is no ordinary bird that flies out of a chimney.”

6. “Sometimes I have thought she understood me without knowing it. For instance, the time when I was longing for her unbearably, when she was waiting for me in the underground station; I, in my desire to get to her as quickly as possible, thinking she was upstairs, was about to run past her, and she took me quietly by the hand.”

7. “—you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love.”

8. “I am not well; I could have built the Pyramids with the effort it takes me to cling on to life and reason.”

9. “And I have become cold again, and insensible; nothing is left but a senile love for unbroken calm.”

                                         Kafka’s drawing, 1923(?)

10. “But sleep? On a night like this? What an idea! Just think of how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.”

11. “I cannot make you understand, I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me.
I cannot even explain it to myself.”

12. “How badly I even read. And with what malice and weakness I observe myself. Apparently I cannot force my way into the world, but lie quietly, receive, spread out within me what I have received, and then step calmly forth.”

13. “Poetry is a disease. Yet one does not get well by suppressing the fever. On the contrary! Its heat purifies and illuminates.”

14. “Please don’t let yourself be frightened away from me, if it’s at all possible in this unstable world (where, if one is swept away one is simply swept away and can’t help it)— don’t let yourself be frightened away from me, even if I disappoint you once or a thousand times or just now or perhaps always just now. As a matter of fact this isn’t a request and isn’t directed at you, I don’t know where it’s directed. It’s only the oppressed breathing of the oppressed chest.”

15. “I can’t listen both to the terrible inner voices and to you simultaneously, but I can listen to what the voices are saying and confide this in you, trusting you like no other person in the world.”

16. “The extent to which I cling to you, dearest, frightens me; I keep telling myself it is wicked—may you never say so, dearest—and yet I cannot refrain. If I were with you I’m afraid I should never leave you alone—and yet my craving to be alone is continuous—we would both suffer, though of course it would mean a happiness well worth any amount of suffering.”

and my ultimate favorite:

17. “The gesture of rejection with which I was forever met did not mean: “I do not love you,” but: “You cannot love me, much as you would like; you are unhappily in love with your love for me, but your love for me is not in love with you.” It is consequently incorrect to say that I have known the words, “I love you”; I have known only the expectant stillness that should have been broken by my “I love you,” that is all that I have known, nothing more.”

Franz Kafka (3 July 1883 - 3 June 1924) ♥