does anybody know where i can watch Dead Poets Society for free?
does anybody know where i can watch Dead Poets Society for free?
“Like you, I have often wondered why fears reign at night. After twenty years of such wondering, I now believe that fears are not born of darkness; rather, fears are like the stars—always there, but obscured by the glare of daylight.”
When Nietzsche Wept - Irvin D. Yalom
On July 8, Yen Press announced that the fifth volume in the Éclair Yuri anthology series Éclair Orange is now available for preorder. Along with the announcement came a release date for the volume, November 17.
This volume features one-shot stories by 19 different artists including Canno (Kiss & White Lily for my Dearest Girl), Nakatani Nio (Bloom Into You), Hara Yuriko (Cocoon Entwined), Arata Iri, Itou Hachi, Non, and more. The cover art is by Nakatani Nio.
Éclair Orange is the most recent entry in the series and was originally published in Japanese by
on November 27, 2019.
Yen Press also publishes the other volumes in the Éclair series. The first three are available now and volume four, Éclair Rouge, is scheduled for release on September 22 this year.
Purchasing manga legally helps support publishers and creators. YuriMother is given a small affiliate commission at no additional cost to consumers.
As a writer, I normally have the perfect ending written, but have no idea how to start it. So, from experience, I know just how much thought can be put into how to begin a story or adversely end it. What does that tell you? They’re hella important, so look at them!
One of my A Level texts was ‘The Go Between’ by L. P. Hartley. The first line of it is “The past is a foreign country; they do things different there”. What a power move! Just flexing a line like that! But why do it? The novel itself is a reflection on the summer of 1900 which is the year it went wrong for our narrator. So let’s do some “hardcore”* analysis of it:
“the past is”- “is”???? “is?” the past? is? For our narrator the past is still the present. Our narrator is using present tense verbs to discuss the past- Leo’s mind we can argue is still in the past.
by using “the”- the definite article, Hartley shows that this past is unchangeable, unalterable, it cannot be visited
“a foreign country”- what are the connotations of “foreign”? This pretty much just emphasises the difference, and perhaps hints that it’s scary- think about what people thought about the “foreign” at this time. What about the idea that we are tourists to our own past?
Who’s “they”? Are the people of the past so different from the people of our narrator’s ‘today’ that they’re somehow separate from the present. Or is it that they’re dead!?
So in the first line we see the conflict between our narrator’s view of the past and present. We see that our narrator isn’t comfortable with the present, and is perhaps in some ways traumatised by the past, though he continues to think on it.
Sometimes there’s less you can say though. If you read a first line and you just think ‘cool’, it’s probably not worth analysing. If it makes you think, it’s gold dust, if not, move on.
Always love these because they are the last thing the writer wanted you to think about. If I pick up the book next to me (Stoner by John Williams) and look at the last line (please don’t let there be spoilers…) it is:
“The fingers loosened, and the book they had held moved slowly and then swiftly across the still body and fell into the silence of the room”
I’ve got an advantage over you since I’ve actually read some of the book, so I can understand what’s going on more. Obviously it’s a death scene (got that to look forward to), but what can we say? “the fingers” are life- there’s been a lot of imagery earlier about Stoner’s relationship with his hands- they’re ‘too big’ and ‘clumsy’ harkening back to his roots in agriculture- but his last act presumably is letting go of a book. Hands important for what they do? Is it making clear that he’s truly moved past this agricultural association? Is it saying that his life was spent entirely reading books? Is this positive? “still” and “silence” are part of a tiny semantic field about emptiness, the character’s dead and with him all the life he had. The book opens ironically with a wikipedia style summation of Stoner’s life and death, and this outline of him is contrasted throughout the book with the depth of his actual character, a way of colouring him in. With his death, it completes the circle. It was life that made his character, now the emptiness shows the end of that. The verbs (and adverbs)in the sentence manage to evoke the sense of ‘slipping away’- “loosened”, “moved slowly” “then swiftly” and “fell”. The movements start off gently, then suddenly and then we end with a past tense. Almost as if Williams is literally removing Stoner’s life from the words. There’s probably much more I’m not getting/would get if I’d read the whole book but the point stands.
First sentences and last sentences are important. Have a look at them.
*I’m saying hardcore analysis because not every sentence needs to be analysed this much.
January 03th (J.R.R. Tolkien’s birthday)
July 29th (Anniversary of The Fellowship of the Ring publication in the year of 1954).
September 22th (Date chosen by Professor Tolkien to be the birthday of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, and named Hobbit Day by the Tolkien Fandom (known as ringers).
November 21th (Christopher Tolkien’s birthday).
‘it was almost night; that house, with its sweet, retiring, melancholy grace, would have seemed deserted but for a light that flickered in an upstairs window, so vague it might have been the reflection of a star, if any stars could have penetrated the snow that whirled yet more thickly’.
— angela carter, the bloody chamber - the courtship of mr lyon
Hiiii I’m getting the same 5 posts over and over so need more blogs to follow, so if you reblog the tagged shit pls like so I can follow you!💜
(Plus like just generic, funny non fandom shit, I’m about that life)
Death of the Author is OUT!
Murder of the Author is IN!
The Author had an intent and thought a certain way. If you didn’t know it, the author is dead and that’s it, but if you do know it or comes to learn it, you can’t just PRETEND the author is dead!
BUT, if you do know the author and their intent YOU MUST look at it, acknowledge it, nod and then you THROW IT AWAY!!!
FUCK THE AUTHOR AND THEIR INTENT!! YOU’RE THE READER, IT’S YOUR STORY NOW, BITCH!!
The Rules of Murder of the Author:
1 - If the Author is physically alive… Please don’t kill people, HOWEVER, if an Author is a toxic person, the best way to kill them is to not give them money! If physically dead, then you can just kill them by ignoring their intent, but only AFTER:
2 - Acknowledge the Author’s intent, and even the stuff they didn’t intent to but implied either on purpose OR by accident due to their own way of thinking, before you ignore it.
3 - The text CAN NOT BE CHANGED! The text stay the same and your interpretation has to be based on it and acknowledge the parts that go against your interpretation too… However, you may also judge which parts matter or don’t… After all… It’s yours now… ;3
MURDER OF THE AUTHOR, the best way to interpret texts, in my VERY OBJECTIVE OPINION! Because objective opinion is a thing! Obviously!!
No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time…
You can never completely know anyone, no matter how well you think you do. There will always be some truth about them you don’t ever get to know.
— Susane Colasanti, So Much Closer
hey, just a gentle reminder to take a deep breath and maybe go get a glass of water
how could i ever love you when i know not what love tastes like? i have hidden myself away under layers of pretense that i think it impossible to strip them away.
they’re glued to my chest, my skin melts into itself and i can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t-
are you still there?
will you teach me how to see again? will you paint flowers on my skin until i will be able to wipe the webs away from eyelids?
my love, can you hear the ocean?
ah, the beach…i haven’t felt the sand in so long.
the sun feels foreign on my skin- i think…i think it does not belong there.
please, can you take my eyes away? my ribs? my tongue, my ears, my legs? leave me only my hands, so that i can still create.
she’s funny like that. she’s gentle at a time then harsh the next.
i think that’s why i love her.
ah, but death..!
my sweet, lost lover! have you come to visit me again?
ah, yes, i do know. i promised we would not keep meeting like this.
i’m sorry. you’re right, i should stay with her a little longer.
will you come again?
hey! have you seen the seagulls? they’re quite wonderful, aren’t they?
yes…it will be a while before they bloom. dandelions are quite lovely, aren’t they?
ah…haha…yes. indeed. it’s not quite what we expected, is it? but we’re here now. it would be a pity not to enjoy it, hm?
ah, life, hello.
quite a while since your last visit, hm?
what brings you here again, my sweet?
ah. that. you do know them and i cannot stay apart for too long.
it…is hard to explain. i am still alive. i never left. i cannot explain for there is nothing to explain. i do love you. you know that. but you know i can’t be bound.
we meet yet again, huh? it’s been so long…
yes, i’ve been well. there’s nothing here i don’t love. but…
it’s silly, isn’t it? even now, there’s still a part of me that can’t let go.
it grips me tight, pulls me under, suffocates me-
you know what that feels like, don’t you?
ah…yes. i suppose you wouldn’t.
you’ve never been here, after all…
should we go? it’s getting late again.
but a goodbye would be hurtful, wouldn’t it? that’s why we often can’t say it. sometimes, it’s true, we’re not given the chance and i know some say they wish they could, but, truly, i believe what they wish for is not an ending phrase, but time.
so, no, my darling. let us go.
it is, after all, time.
there’s yellow scattered along the green grass, a little garden in a corner and no-one quite knows how it got there, but they all stop to stare.
it would be a while before the garden becomes white again.
“I follow no religion but one of the clouds, of the trees, of the way the winds beckon me.”
I can’t feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.
— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.
How perfect for our present predicament!!