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“Zwischen Immer und Nie. Zwischen Immer und Nie. Between always and never.”
― Call Me by Your Name
― Call Me by Your Name
“I’ve hoarded
your name in my mouth for months. My throat
is a beehive pitched in the river. Look!
Look how long this love can hold its breath.”
― Today Means Amen
your name in my mouth for months. My throat
is a beehive pitched in the river. Look!
Look how long this love can hold its breath.”
― Today Means Amen
“Touch was absolutely
out of the question. I couldn’t stop sweating. My heart, a butterfly pinned
to a glacier. Empires fell inside my mouth. I touched myself like a pogrom
& broke my sex into a history of inconsequential shames. I wept viciously
inside of my own stomach & had it condemned. From an upside-down bell
I drank silence, subsisted on the memory of someone else’s hands. Wolves
sang & I did not answer. I forgot their names. Mornings were the worst, then
there were days & evenings. Streetlights & darkened sycamore & suburban
grief so full it made me foolish. I shattered my fist on the Lord’s jaw. Sorrow
sat, licking my wrists & my neck. I slept at its convenience. O, uncelebrated
body. My penis, a lighthouse on the bottom of the ocean, shining shadows
at the undersides of boats. Nobody drowned for so many years. Desperate
for the making of those candy-throated ghosts, I found the rooms between
the violence of comets. I threw myself into anything’s path. Even the sky
bent around me. How lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill. (So I Locked Myself Inside A Star for Twenty Years)”
―
out of the question. I couldn’t stop sweating. My heart, a butterfly pinned
to a glacier. Empires fell inside my mouth. I touched myself like a pogrom
& broke my sex into a history of inconsequential shames. I wept viciously
inside of my own stomach & had it condemned. From an upside-down bell
I drank silence, subsisted on the memory of someone else’s hands. Wolves
sang & I did not answer. I forgot their names. Mornings were the worst, then
there were days & evenings. Streetlights & darkened sycamore & suburban
grief so full it made me foolish. I shattered my fist on the Lord’s jaw. Sorrow
sat, licking my wrists & my neck. I slept at its convenience. O, uncelebrated
body. My penis, a lighthouse on the bottom of the ocean, shining shadows
at the undersides of boats. Nobody drowned for so many years. Desperate
for the making of those candy-throated ghosts, I found the rooms between
the violence of comets. I threw myself into anything’s path. Even the sky
bent around me. How lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill. (So I Locked Myself Inside A Star for Twenty Years)”
―
“I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood.”
―
―
“Pretty much I would let Gemma know
that she is a fat cunt
and, um the shoes that she gave me were
not something that I would particularly
buy for myself.
They were old maiden type of shoes, and
she said that those shoes were meant to
be worn on a beautiful woman
So if that is the case she should have put
them back on the rack and she should
never even purchased them because she
was UNQUALIFIED to own those shoes if
that's the case
and, um I think that Gemma is just a
disgrace. She's a disgrace to women who are
actually beautiful and classy and, um she
just doesn't have the vernacular she
thinks she possesses
Somebody lied to her several times and
told her that she was fly, hot and sexy
and beautiful and she's nothing like that
She's nothing of the sort”
―
that she is a fat cunt
and, um the shoes that she gave me were
not something that I would particularly
buy for myself.
They were old maiden type of shoes, and
she said that those shoes were meant to
be worn on a beautiful woman
So if that is the case she should have put
them back on the rack and she should
never even purchased them because she
was UNQUALIFIED to own those shoes if
that's the case
and, um I think that Gemma is just a
disgrace. She's a disgrace to women who are
actually beautiful and classy and, um she
just doesn't have the vernacular she
thinks she possesses
Somebody lied to her several times and
told her that she was fly, hot and sexy
and beautiful and she's nothing like that
She's nothing of the sort”
―
Dorian’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Dorian’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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