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Ok gotta talk about it.

As a Jewish historian, I fucking hate Israel in ways most probably will never be able to comprehend. I'm going to try and explain it anyways. The central creation myth of Israel is that it is Jewish, and then consequently, that Israel is a part of Jewishness. Its easy to simply state this is false, but fully comprehending this and putting it into practice in thought and deed seems rare to me.

The evil at the heart of this violence predates the recent acceleration of genocide. Israel is a colony, and more than that, an antisemitic fraud itself. After WW2, when Israel was being founded, the Jews of Europe generally did not wave goodbye to their neighbors and head to the promised land. Many were expelled from their homes. Zionism itself, as an action, was a false choice at the time. A mere excuse to place an ally in the middle east, and an excuse to complete the expulsion and destruction of the European Jew. The Zionist Jew is more than complicit in this, they actively seek the destruction and assimilation of all other Jews.

Many fail to realize, and largely because of Israel, that Jews are not inherently white, Ashkenazi, European-descended people. Our faith and culture has an immense variety that is spread all across the globe. Jewishness, in population and volume of culture, exists more so outside of Israel than within it. Israel is for a very specific kind of Jew. The kind that lets Yiddish die, that attaches themselves to European things, that makes themselves and their practices as white as possible.

And they have the nerve, the fucking belligerent GALL, to frame themselves as the necessary saviors of our people. To the Zionist, questioning Israel is to question Jewishness itself. They bake adoration for the colonial machine into their very prayers, and push them on us even as children. To *not* oppress, to *not* kill, to *not* genocide, is to invite death. This is the core of fascistic thought, of course. "Kill them before they kill us." And they KNOW this too, they really do. The truth of that irony does not matter, because as is true for all fascists, the truth itself does not matter to them. They wanted this, they wanted this even before the British saw it in their best interest to give them the land. Any excuse to RETVRN, as the neo-nazis say of Rome, or the German Empire, or whatever the fuck stupid country they want to poorly animate the corpse of. Some select Zionists even *sided with the fucking Nazis* in agreement they should abandon Europe to colonize Palestine. (Haavara Agreement)

My people have proved time and time and time again you don't need a nation state to have an enduring culture. We have protected ourselves for thousands of years without the help of these spiteful, doom-saying maniacs. I was going to post something like this on Passover, but that would be hypocritical. The state of Israel doesn't actually have shit to do with Jewishness. שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְה Vi tsu derleb ikh im shoyn tsu bagrobn. [my best translation] Hear Israel (beginning of a prayer in Hebrew) I should outlive him long enough to bury him. (an old Yiddish curse)

Free Palestine. Donate what you can, they need it right now.

Ode to Melancholy

by John Keats

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine; His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

pros of keeping records of your old writing: whenever you refer back to it you will experience the unparalleled gratification of being able to see just how much progress you've made. you may even find yourself revisiting ideas you had that you didn't have the skills to fully realise at the time, but have since developed enough to renew your efforts.

cons of keeping records of your old writing: you will find yourself constantly mortified and tormented by the words of the stupidest most ignorant shit idiot currently drawing breath on earth, and that person is you

Al Pacino as Ivan Travalian Author! Author! (1982) | dir. Arthur Hiller

Did you eat? (I love you) I bought the bread you like (I love you) I noticed you were upset so I brought you tea (I love you) I made this for you (I love you) I know you have a lot of work and can't talk now so I will leave this thing you like around (I love you) I did your chores (I love you) I will sit by in case you need anything (I love you. I love you. I love you)

taylor swift moodboard 13/? → evermore album

A combination of barrier mesh animation and anamorphic projection on elegant porcelain.

Love going to bed with a new, good daydream scenario fresh in my mind. Like yes girl, movie night!

children’s dreams / al-yarmouk, palestinian refugee camp in damascus, syria 

little palestine; diary of a siege (2021) dir. abdallah al khatib 

I genuinely mean it when I say that life becomes at least 30% more manageable whenever you allow yourself to become obsessed with something that is a little bit silly

waiting for october, i opened my window today. a warm breeze touched my face. i'm waiting for october to love you more. you're gonna be surprised by the amount of change i'll go through everytime it gets colder and days become shorter. beginning to love you in july gives off a summer-love vibe: passionate yet short and unfaithful, an illicit-affair kind of love. in october, i'm gonna hold you tighter, bake you ginger cookies and get lost in your oversized sweater. in november, i'm gonna watch gilmore girls with you and walk with my hand in your pocket. in december, i'm gonna make you coffee-milk, wear the mittens that you bought me, put up christmas lights, dance around the kitchen with 'cowboy like me' and read you my favorite poems by j. keats and shakespeare.

i'm gonna love you more in october.

like there comes a point where you think something is fundamentally wrong with you. and then it turns out it’s just Friday and you haven’t washed your hair in three days and maybe you’re also just a little lonely and the combination of all three of those things is whittling a hole into your chest every time you breathe. but also the sun’s up. and you’ve survived everything so far, so you’ll survive this too, even if it hurts, even if you have to survive it many times.

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary.' It's dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can't attain.

— Catherine Breillat

@academia-lucifer

when hayao miyazaki said that true love was two people inspiring each other to live…recognizing just how hard living is, putting one foot in front of the other every day, how easy it is to lose our passion for it…… that’s the real shit