All we know is steel and stone We’re worked to the death, we’re worked to the bone Spreading ourselves thin, striping ourselves bare We turn the screws too beaten to care Bottle up with spite, lying dead in the fight Exposing our skin to parasites
The brain rot of the digital age leave our bodies stuck inside a primitive rage.
All we know is steel and stone. We’re worked to death, we’re worked to the bone. Spreading ourselves thin, striping ourselves bare, we turn the screws too beaten to care. Bottled up with spite, lying dead in the fight. Exposing our skin to the parasites. The brain rot of the digital age leave our bodies stuck inside a primitive rage.
the ‘emo/goth/chains/hardcore/marilyn manson’ trend was Pluto in Scorpio anger manifesting primitively. This inner rage will ignite revolutions and eradicate toxic social standings, if its directed appropriately. I doubt the twin theme of Pluto and Scorpio will allow for anything less though
When Paramount studio executives were shown a cut of the film, they wanted the film’s opening and closing surrealist sequences to be cut. Executive producer Mel Brooks, according to producer Stuart Cornfeld, said to them: ‘We are involved in a business venture. We screened the film for you to bring you up to date as to the status of that venture. Do not misconstrue this as our soliciting the input of raging primitives.’
thelastautumnleaf asked: Do
you know any good detective/mystery books? Maybe even some fantasy cross-overs?
Thanks so much for the question! The books above are all mysteries, some detective novels, that have fantastical elements to them. If you want ones that are straight mystery too, then check out my blog post here for even more suggestions! I hope that you find something you’re interested in on here!
1. Stealing Shadowsby Kay Hooper- sidenote, she lets people add her on Facebook which I think is fun!
“There are things in the human mind that are not meant to be seen or touched, things seldom even acknowledged by our conscious selves. Fantasies, impulses, rages, hatreds, primitive instincts. They’re buried deep, usually, and that’s where they belong.”
“Some mornings, she’d wake and vow, Today, I will get it right. I won’t be such an awful mess of a girl. I won’t lose my temper or make unkind remarks. I won’t go too far with a joke and feel the room go quiet with disapproval. I’ll be good and kind and sensible and patient. The sort everyone loves. But by evening, her good intentions would have unraveled. She’d say the wrong thing or talk a little too loudly. She’d take a dare she shouldn’t, just to be noticed. Perhaps Mabel was right, and she was selfish. But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all? “Oh, Evie, you’re too much,” people said, and it wasn’t complimentary. Yes, she was too much. She felt like too much inside all the time. So why wasn’t she ever enough?”