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“BOOK OF THE DAY:
The Fall by Albert CamusDo you want to have the very foundations on the basis of which your whole outlook towards life has been shaped, questioned?
Do you want to see the lines between so-called good and evil,...

    theliteraryjournals:

    BOOK OF THE DAY:

    The Fall by Albert Camus

    Do you want to have the very foundations on the basis of which your whole outlook towards life has been shaped, questioned?
    Do you want to see the lines between so-called good and evil, right and wrong, the moral and immoral blurred to the extent you could not distinguish one from the other?
    Do you want to erase that cherished and precious point of reference, against which you have compared, weighed all your actions, thoughts and feelings so far?

    If the answer to the above 3 questions is yes, then go ahead and read Albert Camus. You may end up falling in love with his work, his notions on moral ambiguity and grudgingly marvelling at his genius.

    Did I love this book? Yes.
    Did I understand every aspect of it? Yes and No. Might take me a few more reads.
    Did I love the prose? Oh hell yes.
    Do I know whether to label this book as a kind of doctrine of nihilism or existentialism or a curious combination of both? Oh hell no.

    by guest reviewer Samadrita

    Get the book here!

    Read excerpts from the book here!

    Touchstone works mysteriously……!!

    • 6 years ago
    • 586 notes
  • “Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them.”
    — E.M. Forster, A Room with a View
    (via theliteraryjournals)

    If only reason could answer all.

    • 6 years ago
    • 1417 notes
  • theliteraryjournals:
“BOOK OF THE DAY:
Frankenstein by Mary ShelleyMuch like Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”, Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” is a story we all think we know, but really don’t…Few films have consciously attempted to follow the novel too closely...

    theliteraryjournals:

    BOOK OF THE DAY: 

    Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

    Much like Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”, Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” is a story we all think we know, but really don’t…Few films have consciously attempted to follow the novel too closely (which shouldn’t detract from the excellent James Whale/Boris Karloff film, or its masterpiece-sequel, “The Bride of Frankenstein). Thus, everything popular culture “knows” about “Frankenstein” does not originate from literature, but from films. This is a shame, in a way, because the novel itself is, if not the progenitor, an early vessel of so many archetypes found science fiction and horror.

    The basic plot remained intact when transferred to other media. Swiss medical student Victor Frankenstein discovers the secret of life (which he never reveals, lest someone repeat the mistake). He then puts together a body, essentially a man, from various corpses. He then becomes horrified by the creature he has built, and abandons. The creature, suffering a great deal of neglect and abuse, still manages to get a thorough education, and learns of his lineage. After murdering Victor’s younger brother, and framing the family maid, the creature tells his (admittedly) sad tale to his “father”, and then demands a mate. Victor, in a panic, agrees, then thinks better of it at the last moment, destroying the new bride. In retaliation, the creature murders all of Victor’s loved ones (including his wife), and leads Victor on a merry chase across the world.

    The basic fear of what evil technology may bring along with the good is a central theme, as is the warning against playing God. So is the implicit admonition to be responsible in all things, be it during innovation or being a parent. The creature is, for all intents and purposes, an android-everyone from Gort to C-3PO owe their existence to the Frankenstein monster. And the monster that slays all but one protagonist is a staple of horror, be it traditional monster movies, like “Alien”, or more realistic slasher movies like “Halloween”.

    But, as I noted at the beginning of this review, certain of these elements have been lost in most interpretations. The creature is actually intelligent, and well-spoken, quite different from the inarticulate grunts or slow, half-sentences of the movies. Further, while the films have made lightening a staple of the creatures creation, Shelley never really explains the process. Finally, one of the staples of the films is the explanation for the creatures’ “evil” nature. Often, the problem lies with the brain used, which almost invariably is a criminal brain, or is damaged before implantation. In the book, the creature is really a child that’s horribly neglected, but with the strength and intelligence to strike back: id without superego, and without restraints.

    Thus, “Frankenstein” will be a new experience for readers who know the source exclusively from the films. Unlike “Dracula”, there aren’t any moments where a reader might look up and suddenly realize how quiet it is in the house, or how dark it’s gotten outside. In that regard, “Frankenstein” has not aged particularly well. Throughout, however, it is a moving, disturbing, depressing, but also a touching and beautiful tale. Those qualities have withstood the test of time. While it is not always a rollicking adventure, it is a rewarding read.

    [Guest reviewer: Ian Fowler]

    Read excerpts from the book here! 

    Get the book here!

    Media, mediator and his use of medium.

    • 6 years ago
    • 383 notes
  • taoist-buddhist-way:
“Wu wei ( 无为) is a Chinese word which is usually translated as “non doing”. This is a Taoist concept which has found its way into mainstream Buddhism via Zen (Chan). It is a fundamental principle in Eastern cultures and one which...

    taoist-buddhist-way:

    Wu wei ( 无为) is a Chinese word which is usually translated as “non doing”. This is a Taoist concept which has found its way into mainstream Buddhism via Zen (Chan). It is a fundamental principle in Eastern cultures and one which mystifies and at times frustrates Westerners.

    The idea is that there are times when the best action is no action. We can best deal with a situation by not reacting to it. This is alien to most Westerners who feel that a reaction is always necessary. With wu wei we are as the water when it meets the stone in the river. It flows around without directly opposing the stone. Wu wei. The water way.

    Wu wei wu(无为无), alternatively is essentially ‘doing non doing” or “action without action” Bruce Lee talks on this during an interview when we instructs those to “be like water”. 

    “The Sage is occupied with the unspoken and acts without effort.’

    – Laozi, The Tao Te Ching, chapter 2

    Rhetoric of the textual, recording the experience, without Wu Wei we won’t have any of this existential question to come at, where the the appropriate antonym for this can be anything which is exactly opposite of the non doing lose its way in existing purely, out of context reading.

    (via dazeuniverse)

    • 6 years ago
    • 1329 notes
  • “Memories are powerful. They can bring us laughter or tears at any given moment.”
    — Lynette Simeone   (via wnq-writers)

    Metaphysical ex-sistence

    (via dazeuniverse)

    Source: wnq-writers.com
    • 6 years ago
    • 3860 notes
  • “Staying quiet doesn’t mean I’ve nothing to say. It means I don’t think you’re ready to hear my thoughts.”
    — Unknown (via wnq-anonymous)

    Shake you up, move you, decimate your being, word’s, oh it can heal and it can be the spear ripping slashing through the clump of muscle called heart.

    (via theliteraryjournals)

    Source: wnq-anonymous.com
    • 6 years ago
    • 33693 notes
  • And then it rolls back.

    • 6 years ago
    • 13 notes
  • A little Sunshine

    A little Sunshine

    • 6 years ago
    • 16023 notes
  • sulfur:
“Patrick Tomasso
”
Doorways

    sulfur:

    Patrick Tomasso

    Doorways

    • 6 years ago
    • 497426 notes
  • “My friend and I have a running joke about a boy whose heart she broke. It’s been 8 months and he still subs her in his Instagram captions and Snapchat stories and Facebook posts. We laugh because we are exasperated with how long he could feed off the bones of a relationship he helped bury.

    I laugh but sometimes I wonder if I’m the same. It’s been over two years, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been but there is still a shadow of her underscoring my every move. Time stripped away the meat of what we had, and I am left with a skeleton diagramming all the reasons why we broke up.

    A skull like the ones in Halloween display cases, top chopped off, leaving hollow a cauldron where she poured her sentiments, her worries, her hurt, where I carried them with me, an always sharpened edge pointed at my temple reminding me why my joy gave me an upper hand to her misery. Every red flag was excusable, had a history of trauma to justify it. She wore her mental illness like caution tape so when I wanted out, I couldn’t say I didn’t see it coming.

    A spinal cord, more frayed than bone, a tired vestige of what we used to be. We were happy once. I say that I never loved her but even I don’t know if that’s a lie. There was a time when our bodies didn’t collide like two masses trying to save an existence, trying to recreate the beginning of our universe, when we loved because there was so much to look forward to instead of too much to leave behind. There was a time when our happiness was tethered to more than each other and she didn’t take a nosedive when I was laughing in another room and it wasn’t because of her. 

    Limbs, worn from chasing, broken beyond recognition. I was numb when I realized my body had purged her from my system. Goodnight texts and promises to do better and goodbye kisses seemed more perfunctory than the things necessary to keep a love alive. There was nothing left worth running after. I was reaching for a safety net every time we talked. Buffeted our conversations with apologies, offered my acquiescence before asking for a day with my friends, thanked her for letting me watch a movie alone. 

    These bones lay under my tongue as pieces to gnaw on when someone reminds me of who she was. The marrow is still as bitter as the first time I tasted it and I don’t know if that means I am as pathetic as the boy who is still trailing after his heartbreak, tongue out lapping and obedient and waiting for something in him or my friend to change. I don’t know if that means I’m not ready to be with someone new or if I’m just using her as an excuse to keep myself from hurting again. If time heals all wounds, when will it finally reach me?”
    — Notes on abusive relationships and slow recoveries (via ink-trails)

    The more thinner you become the bigger the burden of carrying.

    (via ink-trails)

    • 6 years ago
    • 126 notes
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