Get Rid Of It

Guy who is touch starved but emotionally repressed goading you into punching him for completely normal reasons

do care + did ask + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you

In every timeline, in every possibility,

Only you

I often think about how loneliness is a more powerful emotion in theatre because you’re in a room full of people who all powerless to do anything but watch and I saw Eva Noblaza as Eurydice in Hadestown the other day and I cannot get her guttural “is anybody listening” out of my mind, she was screaming for someone to listen and you’re sat there mere metres away unable to let her know that you are, that her story is being told and she matters, so many people are listening but she doesn’t know that

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

Ok so I liked the film

in which aziraphale reverts to old habits, crowley is outraged, and they still do not talk about it

Bijelo Dugme i Zeljko Bebek

let's. let's woah with mama. i'll see myself out