remapped-soul
my liberation notes
• luna • 30s • sometimes nsfw • ao3 @ lunarieen • i like f1 and moto gp a normal amount • multifandom • thai bl hell • aesthetic blog
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JEREZ 2024 | Marco Bezzecchi jumping in Pecco Bagnaia's arms in parc fermé.
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JEREZ 2024 | Carlos Sainz and Carlos Sainz Sr. visiting the Gresini box and meeting with the Marquez brothers on Sunday morning.
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hi! do you happen to know any rosquez fics where vale helps marc out with his pt?
I don’t have anything coming up to mind but I’m letting people complete this answer if they have something.
This does feel like something @baking-soda have talked about before (in tags today but maybe in asks in the past) and maybe @moonshynecybin as well.
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Photos have started coming out from Al Shifa after the murderers left
1 April 2024
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Erika L. Sánchez, from Lessons on Expulsion: Poems; “Amá”
[Text ID: “In One Hundred Years of Solitude, / Márquez wrote that we are birthed / by our mothers only once, but life obligates / us to give birth / to ourselves over and over.”]
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siken, four proofs
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So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.
Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.
One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.
All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.
So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.
And Mr. Hargrove loved it.
It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.
Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”
And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.
Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.
One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.
That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.
And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.
And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)
So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.
Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.
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I really feel tremendous grief for friendships that kind of petered away in the face of life's currents. There are people with whom I formed deep, unique, vibrant, life-changing connections, and then we had to go our separate ways and it was too hard to maintain long-distance. There wasn't a fight, it just sort of faded. And I feel like I have more friendships like this than friendships that have endured, so maybe I just have to get used to it. But if grief is all the love we have left over - well, I never did get to finish loving them. I love them, and I miss them, and I probably always will.
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Fabio Quartararo at the 2022 MotoGP Awards Ceremony.
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(Aron Canet via Instagram Story | 29.05.2022)
#fabio quartararo#THIS CAME TO MY ATTENTION AGAIN AND I AM INSANE ABOUT IT#stupid boys (affectionate)#it's a three-way street au
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This is why I love them ❤️
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what art does for us
john berger and our faces, my heart, as brief as photos \ larissa pham the limits of the viral book review \ frantz (2016) dir. françois ozon \ johann wolfgang von goethe the sorrows of young werther (tr. david constantine)
kofi
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love is found in the kitchen
@bumble-meadow \ amy schmidt (via @metamorphesque) \ william matthews selected poems and translations, 1969-1991: “onions” \ joy harjo the woman who fell from the sky: “perhaps the world ends here” \ lucille clifton the collected poems of lucille clifton: “cutting greens” \ @foxesdontscareme \ alfred corn present: “wonderbread” \ ella risbridger in the kitchen: essays on food and life (via @girlfictions) \ aimee nezhukumatathil lucky fish: “baked goods” \ @librarybi \ @entriesee
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#oh god i have tears in my eyes#this is extremly gorgeous#food is love#a soft life#web weaving#reunion au
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history keeps pulling me down
Falling, Florence + the Machine // The Fall of Icarus, Rene Milot // Fallen Angel, Andreas Birath
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Unknown / Down In A Hole - Alice In Chains / Devil In Me - Halsey / To the Countess of Blessington - Lord Byron / The Lament for Icarus - Herbert James Draper / Angel On Fire - Halsey / Cocoa Hooves - Dave Bayley / Bloodsport, “When Rome Falls” - Yves Olade / Stone Milk, “The Myth of Medea” - Anne Stevenson
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After 25 years in the sport, Valentino Rossi has officially announced his plans to retire at the end of the 2021 season.
He leaves MotoGP as the rider that has arguably had the most impact on two wheel racing and with an immense legacy behind him. Across all categories, Rossi currently has 424 starts, 115 wins, 235 podiums, 65 pole positions, and 9 world championships. The Doctor’s last race will be in November at the Valencian GP.
This era of motorcyle racing ends and a new chapter begins.
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