Suicide Underground

Everyone hated the demise of our neighbourhood from the suicide of the lisbon girls. People saw their clairvoyance in the wiped-out elms and harsh sunlight. Some thought the torture tearing the lisbon girls pointed to a simple refusal to accept the world as it was handed down to them:
So full of flaws. But the only thing we are certain of after all these years is the insufficiency of explanations.

Lullaby For Someone Else

light my candles in a daze

“Emotions, in my experience, aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness,” “joy,” or “regret.” Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” I’d like to show how “intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members” connects with “the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.” I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” I’ve never had the right words to describe my life... “

- Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

doped up and televised