Bad people deserve to be punished, don't you think? I mean, you do, objectively, have to agree with that, right?
You're really digging yourself a hole here, you pathetic cunt.
Please, for god's sake, kill yourself. You are a joke.
I hope for the children's sake you kill yourself.
God help the people who are forced to be in your presence. Get it over with, for their sake!
I'm the guy who has come along to tell you that you are worthless, disgusting and pathetic dumbass for no other reason than that you seem to believe otherwise, and this is wrong, this is very wrong, and you know it.
PLEASE MAKE SURE THEY PROSECUTE ME WHEN YOU KILL YOURSELF hahaha dumb bitch
This is just the beginning of your suffering, and you deserve every second of it, because you are awful, disgusting, and you deserve to feel like shit.
There are really a lot of people this could be, aren't there? See, that should be your first clue as to what a complete pile of shit you are. You probaly were mentally scrolling through your list of pople you've fucked over or treated like shit, trying to figure out which one is "cyberbulling" you, haha.
But you, you are no victim here. You deserve a lot worse than a few mean emails.
You're an evil, stupid, cowardly bitch who only cares about herself.
I feel sorry for your family...they have no idea how fucking shitty you are, do they?
You didn't really think you'd be able to just sweep your nasty rotten shit under a rug and get to be a new person, did you?
You're not smart. You're a fucking moron. You've never done or said or written or thought a smart thing in your life,becase you're lazy and self-obsessed. You're not pretty. You're fucking ugly[.]
You are a lazy, dumb[,] egotistical asshole. You are the worst fucking teacher, and making fun of your students all day on twitteron top of that, like a true fuckface.
...you can't actually figure out who this is, can you? Because you are that fucking stupid. Try to rub your two braincells together real hard and see if you can have a thought, you fucking moron.
I'm glad you are ready for the physical pain to start! You seem almost eager to suffer harder! I am excited too.
No need to lock your door or windows real tight dum dum, just leave your shitty place like normal, get in your car, go to school, don't worry about a thing! Oh goody, I love a girl who isn't "distressed" in the slightest!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Melancholia (An Essay)
Kristina Marie Darling
On Sunday-display at my coffee table is Kristina Marie Darling's Melancholia (An Essay), an unraveling - through science, history, nature - of loss and the residue of loss, or the collection of objects still to be thrown out afterward. Darling enthusiasts know her by now as a great maker of lists, hidden texts, reflective footnotes to poems or dreams of poems and other works - and she does perhaps her best work in this medium, in this obsessive interplay of what constructs or is left unsaid within a poem or memory.
Melancholia opens and closes in this same pedigree. It is a careful assemblage of definitions, histories, footnotes, all desperately sewn together in the clumsy-sad way of self-comfort through the adoption of meaning after a great event. Take this definition of "noctuary," which prefaces a series of jewelry-obsessed glimpses of the same name:
1. To keep a record of what passes in the
night. 2. To wake from a dream - to begin a
series of portraits instead. 3. To depict the
beloved and discover cracks in his perfectly
white teeth. 4. To experience a heightened
awareness of one's senses. 5. To ask, to
consider, to be led away from. 6. To examine
a familiar painting - to imagine a blank canvas
in its place. 7. To select and omit, as a poet
Here, Darling seems to directly echo her own theory for poetics. Count the pages of Melancholia and find each displaying one or more of these alternative definitions as its own philosophy.
Be aware - - Darling relies entirely on a Victorian sense of catalog and ritual, opting to almost entirely suppress the events, both actual and emotional, of this melancholy in favor of collecting jewelry and documenting birdsong, which shapes the breathing of this little book. This can make the experience of pain - and the love that presumably preceded it - feel contrived or artificial. After all, it is a difficult task to ask a contemporary reader to place himself within the context of a Freudian discourse on sadness and expect him to feel the whole sweet gruesomeness of it.
That isn't to say that Melancholia fails to accomplish this. Where it succeeds most is in the moments where the facade of documentation allows holes through which the reader may encounter, almost accidentally, the exact weight of the events surrounding and within this emotional period. Take, as example, a footnote from "Footnotes to a History of the Beloved:"
1. The use of physical coercion.
2. The relative strength or duration of an emotion.
3. An unpleasant or destructive natural force. (40)
What Darling does is to entrench a pretty, ceremonious, and painfully human truth - to love and stop loving or, worse, to love and stop feeling loved and to be left with so many remnants of the fact - in the familiar act of fingering the pages of a history book or reading an age old love story so far removed from current reality that it has become safe and to allow oneself to channel personal loss through this medium or the ritual of it. Ultimately, this is a book that details the re-manufacturing of an identity at the point of waking from a lowest low. It is now available from Ravenna Press.