chandrama deshmukh, a teaspoon of stars / claude monet, snow scene at argenteuil, 1875 / counting crows, a long december / anna mary ‘grandma’ robertson moses, snow ball / natalie diaz, manhattan is a lenape word / laetitia de haas, birds in a winter garden / fritz ward, love letter from inside fatherhood / nate klug, advent / serhiy shyshko, saint volodymyr's hill / w. s. merwin, song of three smiles / charlotte joan sternberg, home through the pines ii / mike chasar, conches on christmas / alfred sisley, la maison sous la neige, 1878 / robert creeley, the door / claude monet, the magpie / sarah kay, winter without you
Aimsey: [While watching a Hideduo compilation, and seeing Fit message Pac "It's going to be ok"] Aww... That's fcked! Wait, what is it? "Sau–" wait, hold on. How do you say that? "Saudades?"
[He plays a clip of someone pronouncing Saudades and repeats the word several times to copy the pronunciation]
Aimsey: Ohhh, nostalgia! [Reading the definition] "Saudades is a word in Portuguese that claims no direct translation in English. However, a close translation in English would be "desiderium," defined as an ardent desire or longing, especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost."
Aimsey: It's like "Hiraeth," yeah! It's like the Welsh word! Guys, I can teach you something! Wait- wait- wait– Chat I can teach you something!!! So, in Wales, in Welsh, we have a similar word! We have a similar word, ok? Um... [She plays an audio clip of someone pronouncing "Hiraeth"] Ok, ok, hold on, hold on. We have a similar word, yeah. So, in Welsh, there is the term "Hiraeth," which is a home– ok, I'm gonna explain: "Hiraeth" is a homesickness– lemme, lemme say it in chat... [They type out the word and verbally spell it out letter by letter] I'm gonna spam it.
Aimsey: SO! In Welsh, we have a very similar word, and the- like, the description for it is basically a deep longing for something, especially someone's home. And it's like a homesickness. [Pauses] And there are no direct English translation, but it basically mean like, a homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost or departed. [Reading chat] Yes, you're all saying it right! Yeah, you're all saying it right! You're all saying it right!
Aimsey learns what "saudades" means, and teaches chat a similar word in Welsh. One of my favorite things about QSMP is seeing people learning about other cultures and seeing them get SO EXCITED when they get an opportunity to share their own culture or language with others :')💕
albert camus notebooks \\ oliver herford i heard a bird sing (via @soracities) \\ charles wright the world of the ten thousand things: poems 1980-1990: "december journal" \\ nelly sachs the enigmas of night \\ regina spektor soviet kitsch: "december" \\ natalie diaz manhattan is a lenape word (via @metamorphesque) \\ renée brock streets, a song (tr. linkhorn & judy cochran)
The residual of all the life I’ve forbidden myself out of habit
is barely drawing a new beginning line
So where do i start ? today ?
By the time I woke up today i was already late, not in the sense that i had somewhere to be. No, but the urge to up and leave was almost hysterical
The only thing contradicting it
Was the hesitancy I chained my feet to before I went to sleep last night.
One foot in December, the other in January.
I thought i could still put an effort in trying, but then i started counting all the steps that i took away from reality
I’m so full of life that i don’t know how to put any of it to use; bits and pieces are falling behind because i have my hands so full of myself.
I rationalize the amount of love i absorb into my body, but.. it’s never wasted on me.
If it’s too much for me today, I’ll save it in, store it in a dark corner in my brain that resembles a personal pandora box
my prefrontal cortex
and when everything gets overwhelmingly dark I’ll open it then, let all the leftover love roam my world, and if it ruins me then so be it and if it fixes me…
Well, i don’t see it.
I strive for depth but the more i dig the deeper I’m buried
Naïve enough to expect that someone on the surface will surely notice, and walk back on my steps.
But it’s nothing to worry about now, is it ?
I’m young and I’m invincible and I’m on top of the world
I’m hesitant and I’m rotten. and I can’t stop thinking about throwing myself into this world
The way i was thrown in a pool as a child, expecting that contact will trigger an instinctive response and I’ll swim.. I’ll live.
So.. if I start spinning around myself in my kitchen like a dervish would do in sufi whirling..
it’s only because I’m overflowing with all that I want to be.. but i can’t.
•••
•Quotes: Nelly Sachs, tr. by Eric Plattner/ Anne Sexton/ Fariha Róisín/ Sylvia Plath/ Mayclair/ Taylor Swift
•Original context: Sinligh
•Art reference:
1. Mother and Children by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (Details) 2. Jean-Augustin Franquelin (detail). 3. Ettore Tito - Con la rosa tra le labbra. 4. Louis Janmot, Fleur des champs (details) 5. Art by Salvatore Postiglione (detail)
not sure if this is a hot take but I have always believed Dean’s (English) “me too” was either ad-libbed in one face-to-face take so there’s footage or it was scripted for when he was sitting on the floor crying. but I have never thought (and never will) that it was scripted for him to say it to Cas, because it would defeat the point of the confession triggering the deal and would have changed the tone of the scene / Dean’s reactions entirely