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LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy overGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.. I read the last pages of the book on thebus.
THERE IS SNOW, AND SWEETNESS: A EULOGY We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. The sky is candy pink and gold. A winter night will come soon, and so will more snow. It’s all happened so fast. He is the sweetest birdwe’ve
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. WILD AND WEIRD AND HONESTLY KIND OF GROSS: IS THIS WHAT If you know me, you'll know that I'm a Downton Abbey fan. I've been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under DO BIRDS EXPERIENCE TURBULENCE? / AFTER INTERSTELLAR, ON ask me if miracles exist. go on. they do. and it's not a miracle guided by a divine force--though it very well may be--but rather a miracle of science, of nature, of coexistence. I am in the sky. I am flying somewhere over Quebec under my wings, with a sea of misty clouds, sometimes with JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy overGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.. I read the last pages of the book on thebus.
THERE IS SNOW, AND SWEETNESS: A EULOGY We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. The sky is candy pink and gold. A winter night will come soon, and so will more snow. It’s all happened so fast. He is the sweetest birdwe’ve
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. WILD AND WEIRD AND HONESTLY KIND OF GROSS: IS THIS WHAT If you know me, you'll know that I'm a Downton Abbey fan. I've been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under DO BIRDS EXPERIENCE TURBULENCE? / AFTER INTERSTELLAR, ON ask me if miracles exist. go on. they do. and it's not a miracle guided by a divine force--though it very well may be--but rather a miracle of science, of nature, of coexistence. I am in the sky. I am flying somewhere over Quebec under my wings, with a sea of misty clouds, sometimes with JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
ABOUT | LETHOLOGICA
how many more about pages am i going to have to write? oh dear. anyway, this is my "regurgitation" (so to speak) space, where i talk about books, film, art, and life. i have thoughts that i want to forget so they're not cluttering my brain and i have thoughts that iwant read. these
I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I've AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy A LONGING FOR THE FALL In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead--beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window--and I see rain clouds, dark,CHASING SUNSETS
Or: six things at Calton Hill. 1. I come here because I see the sunset from my bedroom window and I'm immediately enchanted by the way the clouds are glowing with a splash of golden-pink along the edges. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sunset in UPDATE- | LETHOLOGICA This blog has been quiet but my hands have not. I've been writing a lot in my journal and I also have plenty of content to put into coherent blog posts soon. I'll do it. I'll do it soon. But, in the meantime, here's what's to come: three two letter entries, rebloggedfrom our class
NIGHT, LIGHT, STARS, I a meditation on the long "i" sound. My sight goes up to the bright, night sky, sunlight still trying to ripen the mighty clouds with stripes of gold and orange. The internet is telling me that if I raise my spine and turn my sight that way, past this entire mass of cloud, Iwill see
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
ABOUT | LETHOLOGICA
how many more about pages am i going to have to write? oh dear. anyway, this is my "regurgitation" (so to speak) space, where i talk about books, film, art, and life. i have thoughts that i want to forget so they're not cluttering my brain and i have thoughts that iwant read. these
THERE IS SNOW, AND SWEETNESS: A EULOGY We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. The sky is candy pink and gold. A winter night will come soon, and so will more snow. It’s all happened so fast. He is the sweetest birdwe’ve
AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy UPDATE- | LETHOLOGICA This blog has been quiet but my hands have not. I've been writing a lot in my journal and I also have plenty of content to put into coherent blog posts soon. I'll do it. I'll do it soon. But, in the meantime, here's what's to come: three two letter entries, rebloggedfrom our class
A LONGING FOR THE FALL In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead--beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window--and I see rain clouds, dark,CHASING SUNSETS
Or: six things at Calton Hill. 1. I come here because I see the sunset from my bedroom window and I'm immediately enchanted by the way the clouds are glowing with a splash of golden-pink along the edges. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sunset in JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JULY | 2014 | LETHOLOGICA 2 posts published by deepshikha during July 2014. In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short ofLETHOLOGICA
In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy over DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
I’M IN SCOTLAND RIGHT NOW I've just submitted a post to a class blog, which makes me want to come back to this blog and, you know, actually blog. But that, of course, requires commitment, work ethic, and not going on the internet--or rather, cycling between tumblr, twitter, and facebook aimlessly--for upwards of five hours a day. I've got a journal. I'veGETTING LOST?
I went out and got lost today, sort of. I’ve been meaning to for a while but I finally went and did it. We’re reading Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in our Scottish literature class and I wanted to go out and read anywhere but my room.It’s a nice room, don’t get me wrong, but I much prefer to be isolated in chaos thanalone in silence.
QUEER SUMMER (PART I) I made this the summer of queer media. Well, sort of. In late May, I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and was absolutely captivated by it.I read the last pages of the book on the bus. I started crying and reread thelast pages over and
DEEP REVIEWS
Posts about deep reviews written by deepshikha. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a Downton Abbey fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had AUGUST | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during August 2016. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy QUEER SUMMER (PART II) In my last Queer Summer post, I talked about my search for a narrative that matched the brilliance of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. I also talked about my search for a Happy Ending within those narratives and how ultimately, the LBGT YA books that the librarian recommended to me fell short of the expectations I had after reading Aristotle DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. JUNE | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA My Edinbrugh squad and I decided to go to Akva, a Swedish bar and cafe, today. The food was pretty good; my burger needed some serious seasoning (mostly just salt) but man, I had some Idun’s Lingonberry Cider, and that was the second best cider I’ve had while here, second only to the Rekorderlig Strawberry Lime Cider they sell atTesco here.
JANUARY | 2016 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during January 2016. We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. SEPTEMBER | 2015 | LETHOLOGICA 1 post published by deepshikha during September 2015. Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify myweariness.
LETHOLOGICA
the styx and the lethe cannot contain me. In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy over DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 Diriliş is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia.At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire.LETHOLOGICA
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A LONGING FOR THE FALLAugust 15, 2016
/ deepshikha
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In the crisp, air-conditioned space where I work, I look straight ahead–beyond the rows of children working on their worksheets, beyond the head of the woman who works the front desk, beyond the window that lets her reach out to parents in the waiting room, beyond the blinds, beyond another window–and I see rain clouds, dark, hanging heavy over what I know is outside but what I cannot see. I see tastes of the storms to come and a curious longing for the fallsettles in my mind.
As I relegate my sudden wishing for late September to my middle-aged co-worker, I realize that my longing is beyond the usual fancies of autumn. Of course, I’m aching for the humidity to go away and be replaced by light chills; for the leaves to change colors and leave behind skeletons twisting into the sky; for warm cider spiced with cinnamon, so fresh I can still hear the clank of the cider press in my ears; _of course_. In the humidity so thick I feel it curl across every part of my body, I’m even wishing for the first snows at the beginning of December. But it runs deeper than that. Fall brings with it a melancholy, a sweet acceptance of nature as it is, not as we want it to be. More than anything, more than even in the spring, the little deaths in the fall bring with them the promise that there is new life to come, there will always be new life to come. Be patient and survive, and you willgrow again.
_The fall feels auspicious_. New things come only from the end. We celebrate the life we’ve cultivated and dance underneath the harvest moon. The hunters begin their season so deer can be born again in the spring. We start school again; we start new jobs, new passions. We see the earth die around us and grasp for the last sparks of abundance. That’s what I’m longing for. The promise, the color, the new things that fall promises. This summer has stagnated, humid heat resting weary on my skin, and I’m ready for my apples to fall, my leaves to shed, to be naked and raw in a dark October wind. The sweet melancholy of bare trees, dark clouds, the scythes, and the gunshots are reminders that all good things come to an end. And that’s okay. Because that is where we begin again. THERE IS SNOW, AND SWEETNESS: A EULOGY January 12, 2016January 13, 2016/ deepshikha
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We bury him at sunset. My hand still feels the weight of his body, it still sinks into the air as though he’s still resting there. The sky is candy pink and gold. A winter night will come soon, and so will more snow. It’s allhappened so fast.
He is the sweetest bird we’ve had. He never protests when you pick him up, he never bites you unless he’s trying to get more leverage. His chirps sound a little bit like a car alarm and what he really likes to do is sit on the edge of the wall clock and watch us. If you put your finger in front of him he’ll almost always hop on. We never trained him. He is not belligerent. He accepts all that comes to him as it does, quietly, sweetly. (I don’t cry this time, not like when little blue died. All I feel is numb. Greenie is flying and chirping now, like she’s searching for something. She’s lost so many companions. I wonder if she’salways searching.)
He came home after our vacation across Europe. He was sweet then too. We never quite figured out his gender. They said he was a male, but his cere was turning pink, slowly. I felt the warmth leave his body. He looked a little like Greenie, but he was thinner, his green coloring a little deeper. He always had a slightly-scared look about him, but he wasn’t scared of us. I could give him all the kisses I wanted and he’d just stare back at me, andaccept it.
It wasn’t sickness that killed him. It was an accident. My dad getting too excited in playfully tormenting the yellow one. He must have fallen down. He often did. He couldn’t fly. His wings were coming in but they were lopsided, one longer than the other. He was stepped on. He was snapped. I hope it was quick. I hope he remembered that we loved him, perhaps too much, in just a short time. (My dad is coping by playing the sounds of his chirping. Greenie is replying back. This is too much. She flew to my hands, once, when she saw him lying in my palms. She pecked at him, then flew off. Then, while we all argued, she stared, eyes wide, and watched us—watched him in my palm—closely. What does she know? What does sheunderstand?)
All I know is that his life was too short. That he was a little bird who liked his tall perch, who would sit wherever you put him, would gesture at you to pick him up and put him somewhere high, who would eat kind of slowly, but never from your hands. I know that only a couple of days ago—yesterday, actually—he and Greenie were chewing up the same cardboard box. He was perched on top and happily digging in, something he wouldn’t usually get to do because the girls get there first. He looked like a little duck, paddling along in a sea of cardboard, but of course, he was just digging through with Greenie. We bury him in earth, under snow. I hope the grave is deep enough. My sister places him in the earth, on top of little bits of cardboard, the kind he never got enough time to chew on, to play with. As she does, two of his tail feathers fall. Blue and green in the snow. I catch them before they are carried away in the wind. I put three flowers on top of him. I’ve already given him so many kisses, when he was lying in my palm, when he was alive. It’s cold and the snow swirls and my dad uses his hands to put the dirt back in the hole. My sister winces when the first bits go on him. First his body, then his head. He sobs. I wish I would have been there to maybe intervene. I wish I could have stopped it all before it even had a chance to happen. But all I know is that the sun is setting and that another sweet little bird is dead. My palm still holds the weight of his little body. WILD AND WEIRD AND HONESTLY KIND OF GROSS: IS THIS WHAT DOWNTON THINKSHAPPINESS IS?
November 9, 2015January 30, 2016/ deepshikha
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If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a _Downton Abbey_ fan. I’ve been one since I picked it up my freshman year of college and binge-watched it until it all culminated in me sobbing violently outside of a classroom in the Cathedral, five minutes before my Gothic literature class started, because the sweetest soul under Downton’s roof had just died. dead for like, ever, and she’s still killin’ it And if you know me like my family do, you’ll realize that my sister and I casually watch _Downton_ while we eat, so much so that the number of times I’ve seen series three’s Christmas special is shocking, embarrassing, and terrifying. I love _Downton._ I always will. _BUT WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS THAT LASTEPISODE? _
Okay, overall, I thought the episode had some real emotional strengths, especially with Moseley’s new teaching gig going well and the way Laura Carmichael and Michelle Dockery acted the hell out of their last scene together. But the rest of it, _oh god_. Two things. Thomas Barrow, our resident Sad-Angry Homosexual, increasingly unhappy throughout series six, tries to kill himself. No one really cares–especially not Julian Fellowes–and his ~failing~ is a lesson for Lady Mary to Mend Her Ways. And why must Mary mend her ways? She’s dead set against marrying Henry Whatever for some reason but if she doesn’t, because she _truuuuuly loooooves him deeeeeep dooowwwnnn_, she’s going to end up like Sad-Angry Homosexual Barrow. Throughout the whole episode, Mary is relentlessly attacked for _daring_ to say no to Henry. She is repeatedly called selfish and a number of other things for saying no to this man. The show tries to convince us that it’s because she’s afraid of losing another husband to a car crash but I didn’t buy itfor a second.
I couldn’t believe I was watching a woman be bullied into marrying someone she “truly loved deep down;” I barely bought their romance in the first place. I could not tell you what she finds attractive about him. Uh, he’s… different? Sort of? He’s like Tom Branson but somewhat more… well placed? _??? ??? ?? ?? ?? ???? ????? ?_ The show’s already been suffering from quick cuts and an absolute refusal to linger on any sort of emotional moment. We always hear about a big event later, or in some cases, there’s build up but it never happens (I’m looking at you, Mr. Whatsit from Baxter’s past). With Matthew and Mary, it took a damn long time, and yes, it by the end of it, it was convoluted and desperately vying for the Best Indian Drama Soap Opera Twist Award, but it felt so good, and sosatisfying.
Like it promised to do with Mary and Gillingham’s romance_, Downton_ utterly failed Mary here. It gave no chance for Mary to develop her attraction, for us to see why it was so important that Henry Whatever and Mary be together, for us to revel in the hard won-victory that was Matthew and Mary’s wedding. It was, rather, a woman being bullied into marriage with a man who showed some really fucking creepy vibes near the middle of the episode, telling her, in her own home, that she had no right to snub him and basically holding their “love” like ahammer to her head.
(Side note: Edith’s potential marriage had a chance to be the culmination of a perfect slow burn, but ha ha, _Mary’s a bitch_. Their row scene, however, was the best.) Maybe we’ll see something new? fresh? earned? with this plotline? I doubt it, because Downton sucks at being fresh or earned. run, sybil, run while you damn well can Which brings me to Barrow. God, poor Barrow. The man tries to slit his wrists in a bathtub and he barely merits three minutes of screen time afterwards. If you’re not going to fucking give it any time, any resonance at all, why bother? Not only does Barrow’s character fulfill tired, old stereotypes about gay men, it doesn’t even attempt to do something new or fresh with it, or with anyone around him. Surely someone felt sorry for him? Not even Baxter, who found him in the bathtub? Andy, who disliked him but then liked him and had to carry his body out of the bathtub? Nothing?Nothing at all?
You _can_ do justice to stereotypical characters. Fellowes stopped trying with Barrow at the end of series 2. Hell, any time Downton introduces a plot with some weight, it’s mangled and knotted into a rotten mess. Anna’s rape story line, with the focus shifting so it was finally about her _husband,_ was the worst. The way they’ve treated Barrow–giving him _nothing_ to do for three series, not even villainy, like way back when, turning his survival into a lesson for Mary of all people–is really, really trying to be the fucking worst. And now, through the character of the Sad, Tragic Gay, he’s… what exactly? Does it even matter? I’m not saying that _Downton_ needed to show Barrow in an ahistoric light (although they really do, and it’s weird), but just doing his character justice by letting him be a character rather than a caricature would have been so fucking nice, especially since Barrow is such a visible gay character. me too, jessica, me too. _Downton Abbey _is trying to tell me that happiness is… whatever this is than the hard-earned, continually worked at, sharp but sweet happiness that we found in the show’s first romantic pairings. Matthew/Mary and Sybil/Tom weren’t easy couples. But their love felt earned and we never once doubted that they loved each other. What’s happened with Mary now is cheap, and quite frankly, terrible, because we’re being told that there’s no way that a woman can know her mind. At least not with Marry. And with Barrow? Well. Gays aren’t allowed to be happy. We all know that. Tragiqueer ahoy. There’s still the Christmas special left. Fellows might pull one on us and give us the best of _Downton_ for what’ll be the last of_ Downton_. Edith still as a chance for love that could be as well earned as the first parings above. We can still tactfully address Barrow in such a way that does justice to what his character could be. As for Mary’s “happiness”? Deconstruct, or _actually_ _show us what makes them work_. Edith might happen. And god, I hope it does. (She’s my new favorite.) But I’m not hoping for much with the rest. At least I’ll be able to laugh with the last _Guardian_review.
EDINBURGH TO GLASGOW, GLASGOW TO HOME BY DEEPSHIKHA SHARMAOctober 21, 2015
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> Oh, how I miss Scotland. Pitt in Edinburgh, a blog You see a country by bus but you do it against your will. You do it because you’ve missed your train back to Edinburgh because you wanted to stay in Glasgow longer but the train you could’ve caught was cancelled and so now you’re on a charter bus at nearly midnight driving through god knows where and it’s nearly midnight and these two dudes are barking away in loud Spanish three seats up. 11:15 and it’s not that dark outside. You’re staring out the window into the negative spaces of this unfamiliar country. It’s dark enough that the fields, the silhouettes of trees, bushes, and sometimes sheep could be anywhere in the world. This is how you know a country: not so much by the spectacular castles and the craggy, snow-dipped mountains, the celebrities and the royals, but by the mundane, the people ordering lemongrass tea in a coffee shop every…View original post
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DIRILIŞ ERTUĞRUL: A REVIEW, EPS 1-6 October 20, 2015November 1, 2015/ deepshikha
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or: I’ve started watching a show in a language I only know three words of and every episode is two hours long and _there are thirty ofthem_ god help me
I was looking for a facecast for the main character in my novel a couple of months ago, digging through Turkish, Mongolian, and other Central Asian actresses, when I came across this gorgeous still of actress Esra Bilgiç: my heart stopped, a little bit. Look at her! At the time, I thought that I’d found my character’s face–and from the culture where I’d found inspiration in, no less. But alas, the story didn’t end there. I’m in my senior seminar for my fiction major right now, which means the time that I’m not wasting watching _DiriliŞ_, I’m deep in thought on how to make my book a better book. I started searching for more on the nomads of Central Asia, settling on their dwellings being called yurts and whatnot, when I discovered the show Bilgiç stars in, _Diriliş Ertuğrul_. And then my life changed forever. ya malek, they’re all so gorgeous! _Diriliş_ is a show about Ertuğrul (pictured in the center), the son of the chief of the Kayı, an Oghuz Turkic tribal group hailing from West Asia. At the beginning of the show, he rescues Halime (Bilgiç) from being raped by Crusaders, and sets off a chain of events that will eventually lead to the founding of the Ottoman Empire. I won’t pretend to know anything about Turkish or Ottoman history and how accurate it is comparatively, but in this show, at least, our heroes have to deal with Crusaders infecting their way into every possible nook and cranny, dissent within the tribe, brother trying to usurp brother, princes being kidnapped for political gain, and, apparently, the _plague_. It’s _Game of Thrones_ meets _Vikings_. In Turkish. I don’t understand Turkish. The subs I’ve managed to get my hands on are awful. I love it anyway. Ertuğrul is the perfect hero. He’s brave, loyal, obedient, a proper Muslim, utterly flawless. Halime is the perfect heroine: brave, loyal, stubborn, graceful, loving. The best scenes in the show are between them as they talk around each other, both trying to express their growing love for each other without ever saying it. Perhaps they are too perfect, but I hardly think someone could be morally grey and follow the “right path” of Islam as Ertuğrul is doing. Is it a flaw for the show? For a viewer like me, maybe, but I’m not a primary demographic here, anyway. I don’t know any Turkish either, so I couldn’t tell you how Turkish viewers feel. In the end, what makes the show _interesting_, however, has less to do with perfect Ertuğrul or Halime, but the imperfect people around them, plotting and scheming. Within the Kayı, the ailing chief’s brother is trying to slowly usurp power and prevent the tribe from migrating to an area near Aleppo. Ertuğrul’s older brother, jealous of Ertuğrul, is initially caught up in his schemes but breaks away once his father falls ill. His wife, Selcan (pictured far right), however, is doing her best in order to ensure that she, a.) makes her husband the chief of the tribe, b.) gets her sister to marry Ertuğrul, c.) has a grandson, d.) and kicks the “guests of the tribe,” Halime and her family, out for good. Outside of the tribe, various factions aligned with the Knights Templar, who want to start a new crusade to Jerusalem, plot against the Kayı and Ertuğrul, either for vengeance, to keep them out of Aleppo, or to destroy them once and for all. There’s also a mystical teacher (a fakir?), Ibn-i Arabi, who, through many mystic invocations of God, protects Ertuğrul and guides his path on the road of Islam. Also, he has a relic in a mysterious chest that the Templar desperately want their hands on. It’s a lot to take in, and I kind of understand why each episode istwo hours long.
I love the show. It’s engaging to watch, has amazing production values, and could easily compete with American big-budget television. It’s got some gore (hilariously fake) but not sex. There’s none of that parading of women’s naked bodies on screen that is such a hallmark of HBO shows. (Of course, that’s probably to do with Turkish culture more than anything.) On the other hand, while I wouldn’t hesitate to say that the women in the show–Halime, the chief’s wife, Hayme, Selcan–are strong, they are confined to their roles in their society. Selcan, arguably the most interesting (with shades of Cersei Lannister, or early Siggy on _Vikings_) is a villain. She plots and schemes for power, and that’s a bad thing. She’s the opposite to Halime, who is everything a woman should be in their society. Halime isn’t demure, by any chance, but she’s not looking for power, necessarily, just to be able to settle down in one place after running around for so long. I wouldn’t complain, but in six episodes–_twelve hours of TV_–she hasn’t done much more than look pretty, wax poetic, and take an arrow for Ertuğrul, though the potential is there for her to be more than she is. I realize she’s confined to a very historical (gender) role. But still. But I must say, the ones who scheme for power in this show, regardless of affiliation, are the villains. Ertuğrul doesn’t want power either, only for his tribe to be able to settle in a new, bountiful land. He fights because he has to, not because he wants to. All the righteous ones in this show do. I’m obviously watching from a Western, though not white, perspective. I started watching hoping that the show would focus more on Halime. I hope it will, since I still have literally two whole days worth of show to go. (And let me be frank, there’s no need for it to be two hours per episode. It’s an indulgent thing for this show to do, especially since much of it could be easily cut or shaved down. I don’t need reminders of how terrible the Crusaders are, really. Or another fight scene where we know Ertuğrul will win. Or that this person has a new scheme bound to fail because Ertuğrul is literally graced with God’s righteousness.) But, as a contrast to American television, _Diriliş_ is refreshing. Despite its length, much of it goes at a decent pace. The last episode I watched ended in a loss for our heroes, with Halime being hit, key members of the group being captured, and the offer to settle near Aleppo being redacted. I hope Halime does get to do more, but either way, I’m here for the long haul.LOSS. LOVE.
September 28, 2015
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Weary is the journey I’ve been on tonight, though I’m not sure I can justify my weariness. My sister’s not!boyfriend’s mother passed away last night and my sister asked me if I could help her take something comforting to him. Of course, I agreed. I’ve never been touched by the loss of someone very close to me. The closest I can get to it was watching my little blue budgie die last year. I was a mess for a week after. I even wrote a eulogy for him. What would I go through if, gods forbid, I had to experience what my sister’s beau just did? I can’t imagine it. I told my parents we were taking a trip to Target. We actually did go to Target; my sister bought him some chocolate and a rather adorable stuffed monkey. I let her write him a note under a sickly-yellow lamp back in our car and then we were off. He was waiting for us outside his house, half-shadow in the hedges, when I pulled up. I let my sister go out to him and went to turn the car around, park, and wait. I didn’t watch them. I just turned all the lights I had off and pretended like they were having a moment not confined by invisible hands of my parents. It was warm in the car. I was feeling okay. I had the radio tuned to “The X” and at some point, found myself enjoying Five Finger Death Punch’s “Jekyll and Hyde.” Somewhere, in the sky behind me, the moon was being digested by shadows, having already been swallowed by clouds. It sprinkled, now and then. My sister got back in the car. I asked her if she wanted to stay longer. She said no–for practicality’s sake. I started to get ready to go back, but I lingered a bit. Sent a text. And then her beau texted her asking if I would let her stay a little bit longer. _Of course I would_. I would have let her stay the night with him, if I could. I trust my sister. I trust her convictions. I’ve only met her beau twice, but I trust him as well. I don’t see any reason that they shouldn’t have been together, if she was the one who could comfort him the most. I would give anything to let him find whatever happiness he could, wherever he could find it. I made myself invisible again. She came back, ten minutes later. She was crying, but trying to hide her sobs because she was also on the phone with my parents. She told them we were still at Target, going to Giant Eagle later. They asked us to get flour. The mundanity of life cutting through someone’s grieving. We left, hurrying back to the plaza where both Giant Eagle and Target have stood for over a decade. My sister and her beau barely had fifteen minutes to let him grievewith her.
_What I wouldn’t give to be able to tell my parents about this, to be able to confide in them_. How much time do these two really have together, anyway? They’re surrounded by people at school. They’ll hang out in the library sometimes. I’ve let her go out with him once while it was just the two of us at home. What is it to know someone privately, in the safest space you can imagine? What is it to fall in love with someone in a thousand places, best of all your own? I want her to know that. I want her to know young love. I never got a chance to do it, but I want herto.
On the way back, I asked her about him, how he was doing. _As well as you can expect_, she said, _for someone whose mom just died_. I don’t have a reference point for this. Losing little blue cannot possibly compare to losing your mother. All I know is that I _feel_ for him. It’s strange, being someone close enough to help console someone’s grief, but being distant enough that it would seem overbearing if you expressed sympathy as well. All I can hope is that me supporting my sister in going out to meet him, for whatever short fifteen minutes they had, said everything I wish I could say to him. We got home and life went on. We all saw the moon, through a thickening veil of clouds, just as it was nearly swallowed in darkness. Some of our neighbors came out and joined us, then later came in for tea. I got to shake off some of my weariness by just going about my nightly routine. It went on. It goes on. I hope that it goes on for my sister’s beau too. I hope it goes on as beautifully as his mother would have wanted for him. I hope it goesand goes and goes.
U: UMBRELLA
July 29, 2015July 8, 2015/ deepshikha
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> Letter number two out of three. U. Umbrella. Ironically, it properly > rained the day after I posed it to the class blog. Written in a form > called a zuihitsu, which is a lovely stream of consciousness way to> write.
Pitt in Edinburgh, a blog You can stand under my umbrella. The best nap I’ve ever had is under a black and white flower umbrella. An hour in the sun, face safe underneath a little tent above my head. Not too hot. Warm. Perfect. Umbrella is a sad word, gloomy and rainy, separating you from the world around you, but it’s meant to carry with it the sun because it is a sunshade and one begets the other. An umbrella is protection. Lovers share umbrellas, friends, strangers destined to stay strangers. A few confined moments underneath a tiny bubble and you emerge electric, in love, in anticipation. Isolation turned into _ishq_.Love.
An umbrella is a little shadow. A large shadow. An eclipse. Films make umbrellas more romantic than they are. The word umbrella comes from the Italian _ombrella_, from the late Latin _umbrella_, from _umbella_, meaning sunshade. Shade withinshade…
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“BUT LETTING NICE THINGS GO” July 8, 2015July 8, 2015/ deepshikha
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* I’m back from Scotland! Hurrah! I’ve been back for pretty much two days now. I’m already tired of being here. I want to go back to that near perfect last month. It’s going to be the only perfect month of my life, I suspect. Even though I moaned and complained, I enjoyed myself the whole time. I saw things. I built muscle. Was free. Things that are different here: sugar, coins, cars, distances, eating,me.
* It’s raining here. I think the weather has been pretty much like it was in Edinburgh, only 5-10 degrees higher. Not that I’ve really left the house. I have nowhere to go. Nothing to do. I could be doing work but even though it’s work I want to do it feels aimless. Can I wander to a cafe and settle down there and work? Maybe in Oakland. Sure as hell not here. I walk fifteen minutes and all I’m going to hit are chain restaurants. Starbucks. Panera. No lovecrumbs or Loudons. How do you survive in the suburbs? How do people do this? How did I do this? No wonder I’ve started eating 10000 meals a day again. There’s too much food around. I don’t like this. * Lana Del Rey has become my soundtrack again. It happens in the summer. Tragic suburban aesthetics, I like to call it, even though it’s her weirder first, official album, _Lana Del Ray a.k.a Lizzy Grant_. Now all I need is to change my facebook profile picture back to me with my hair flying about my face, looking off past the viewer, bathed in a weird filter. That’s how to get the complete #look. You heard it from me first, folks. * I’m surrounded by piles of clothes. At least the suitcases have made their way downstairs. Help me, someone. Motivate me. Tick, tick, tick. I have lots of things to post, actually. I’ll get to those. * My mother said that I’d get bored in Edinburgh if I had to stay there for the rest of my life. Except. It’s a city. I’d be a foreigner in it forever, no matter how much I got to know it. I’d be on my toes. I’d love that. (I suspect my mom is right, but I can’tbelieve that.)
* It’s raining. I said that already. I’m going to exit out of wordpress and scroll through tumblr. Then do that again. I’ve played some visual novels in the last two days but I could work on my own. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll through tumblr. I’m going to scroll thro DO BIRDS EXPERIENCE TURBULENCE? / AFTER INTERSTELLAR, ON THE PLANE July 5, 2015July 8, 2015/ deepshikha
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ask me if miracles exist. go on.they do.
and it’s not a miracle guided by a divine force–though it very well may be–but rather a miracle of science, of nature, ofcoexistence.
------------------------- I am in the sky. I am flying somewhere over Quebec under my wings, with a sea of misty clouds, sometimes with the lightest touch of orange-beige, like a streak of sand in the distance, in a dream. I am not cold. A little cramped, maybe, but not cold. Time is going backwards, tick, tick, tick; we’re draging the sun behind us, tied to our tails, glinting on our sails. Eat lunch at noon. Eat dinner at noon. Tick, tick, you are making up for that what you lost before. Tick, tick, you fall asleep, still in the air. Tick, tick, ding. Would you like some water? Do birds experience turbulence? Is that the price I pay for flying? it’s not a bad price to pay. Sandwich of the softest baby blue between two sand streaks. Strangers next to you; do they wonder why you’re flying as you do they? Time does not really exist here, tick, tick. You measure time by the passing of meals but they hand you almost constantly. Seven hours, two snacks, one meal, desert. No birds but these have had airy clotted cream and strawberry ice cream 290020 feet beneath the stars. Is that the earth that turns indigo on the horizon? Is it the sky? Isit both?
Tick.
Tick.
Last time you saw the sunset because you were chasing the night. Adventure. The unknown. Now it’s nothing before blue. And white. And the gold stripe on the proud curve of the wing. Tick, tick, two hours to go, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s only how you make sense of the world changing around you. To move is to travel through time. Breathe, breathe, tick, tick. I could pinch all the layers of sky and cloud, the landscape that isn’t, that brought me here. Take the sacrament, time and space and sun. Body of the world, blood of time, drip on the haze that covers the earth and turns it brown. Underneath my feet? Air. Nothing. It’s not all the same. Praise all the miracles that have brought me here. Praise, praise,tick, tick. Tick.
------------------------- I’ve just finished watching Interstellar. First, the bad things, took too long to get going (but that was maybe necessary?), black man dies, and in related, too white. Let’s also do away with the token girls, though I did fall in love with Murph. Anne Hathaway was slightly underutilized. It’s really a story about Murph. Though Matthew was brilliant, he’s the aid to her discovery and her success. His sacrifice of time is the reason she’s successful and his helping her is only an accessory to how brilliant she is. Cooper is only the messenger, in the end. I like that. I mostly came away from the film thinking about what it means to search for discovery. They’re looking for the bridge between quantum physics and relativity. I’m in a gigantic metal tube flying across five time zones. How did it happen? Not the science, not the math, but the spark of desire that led to this? In Interstellar, it’s love, for family, friends, people, that drives the desire for knowledge. Is it always love? Can drive and desire always be quantified to how much love courses through you? I’m at the point of sounding cheesy, so I’ll stop. But that’s going to stay on my mind. More thoughts later. Maybe. S: S IS FOR SCOTLAND July 4, 2015July 8, 2015/ deepshikha
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> Letter three out of our three part letter assignment for class. S. > Scotland. My second favorite. Pitt in Edinburgh, a blog * SASSENACH: I am not technically a _sassenach_. Apparently, the word just means English. I am not English. But it also means outlander. Anyone not from Scotland or the Highlands. We, tourists, students, almost-residents, are _sassenachs_. This country does not belong tous.
* SWEETS: The sun peeking out from behind low, heavy grey clouds; tea cakes, chocolate, soft, gooey marshmallow, and a slightly salty and somewhat nutty biscuit on the top of Arthur’s Seat as you cool down from the grueling hike; your first bite of tasty, savory Scottish pies, a mac and cheese pie underneath a mountain older than delight, warm and filling, you’re already full two bites in, because that’s what Scottish food is; growing to appreciate Alan Breck and hoping someone just as mysteriously Byronic sweeps you off your feet—is that what Scottish heroes are?; long walks getting lost on emptystreets as the…
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