Sue Zhao, My mother texts me instructions to cook silken tofu (x)
Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022) dir. Daniels
Eden Robinson, Writing Prompts for the Broken-Hearted
Hannah Lowe, The Stork
@greysfields (x)
@wellwaterhysteria, 'excerpts of texts my mum has sent me this year' (x)
Sally St. Clair, 'The Distance Between Them' from Death of a Mother: Daughter's Stories
Warsan Shire, How to Wear Your Mother's Lipstick
Deborah Levy, Hot Milk
A handwritten note from my mum, c. 2006
@ryebreadgf, green grass (x)
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Birds of a Feather
I have basically this exact thing on my main blog, but I felt the need to add some stuff and put it on this blog properly.
Rule #4: Fish in a Birdcage, Fish in a Birdcage | I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou | Song for Sasha Banks, The Mountain Goats | Elektra, Sophocles | I'll Give You the Sun, Jandy Nelson | Up the Wolves, The Mountain Goats | Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted, Eden Robinson | Photo, Graham Holtshausen | Uwani, Rudy Francisco | Antigone | I Knew You Once, Dodie Clark | Quote by Hannah Gadsby | Brother, Kodaline | Two Birds, Regina Spektor | Quote by Dan Pearce | The Trees Witness Everything, Victoria Chang
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You can put your strength down. I'm sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don't need to say anything.
(Excerpted from Eden Robinson's writing prompts for the broken-hearted, in Brick literary journal)
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eden robinson - return of the trickster
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You can put your strength down. I’m sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don’t need to say anything.
Eden Robinson
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Quotable – Eden Robinson
Find out more about the author here
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“They’d have fun….If he was willing to lie to her for the rest of their lives. If he was willing to use her love to live the good life.”
— Eden Robinson, Son of a Trickster
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Excerpt from Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted
Eden Robinson, in BRICK literary journal no.107
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Did you ever pour a little Elmer's glue onto your hand, spread it around, wait for it to dry and then peel it off? Once it dries, the glue holds a clear imprint of the lines of your palms. Imagine our universe is the dried glue. All the beings on earth and in the sky, all the endless blackness of space, all the heavens in their great spinning chaos, everything we know exists in this thin copy of a completely different layer of reality.
Our universe is a membrane, a hologram, a soap bubble. We don't go through the looking glass. We are the looking glass. Some cultures imagine our world is on the back of a turtle, which, you would think, is not literal. But our universe rides a creature so strange, we don't have the senses to detect it or the math to explain it. Maybe we do live in a layer of mud on the back of a giant, multi-dimensional turtle.
Consider the dark star at the centre of our galaxy. Our Kaldi, our Odin-eating wolf at the end of days, this massive black holes shapes our galaxy into a maypole of stars pinwheeling around its gravity well. As we approach this cosmic Charybdis, consider the violence necessary to shred the matter of suns into its swirling accretion disc, where the broken stars scream radiation before they've funneled into the heart of the black hole. This gravitational meat grinder forces space and time into a grisly singularity.
This is a door not only in time, but in dimensions.
Consider roadkill. Consider the bloody pancake of a body now a shadow on a road. Your three-dimensional body made two-dimensional by the mass and velocity of cars. Now consider your three-dimensional body in nine dimensions: imagine pouring a glass of apple juice into the ocean. When you shift out of our dimensions, you run the risk of dispersion so profound, even the memory of you is obliterated. Universes are stubbornly separate.
Unless you are a Trickster.
- “Son of a Trickster”, Eden Robinson
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— writing prompts for the broken-hearted by eden robinson
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