things they don’t tell you about living through history

i can taste the blood / coursing through the page / and feel its pulse twitching in my veins / watch the letters stamp themselves out across my skin / it sickens m / but there’s not much i can do / ‘cept for sit / and wait / and wonder if this is what it felt like, to watch the fall of rome / but cry into a pillow, and wonder how they’ll tell this story / and thank god, or whoever’s up there that i’m not the main character / because i don’t know what to do / so how ’bout i burn quietly / among the trees / laugh to myself through tears, as i flip a coin for the fate of humanity / i’ll be careful what i wish for / i’ll try my best / and pray for normalcy / i’ll romanticize the little things / like never having to worry about turning on my phone, and having it all taken away from me / i’ll pretend it was perfect / ’cause nostalgia promises she’ll save me / butter me up and coat me in the pretty paper roses / but in the end, she’ll leave me wrapped in red velvet / as the blizzard starts to bury me / but if there’s anyone listening / i’ll do what you say / i will dote after your holy texts / i will give my life away / for another moment of denial / a glass of gasoline / oh darling, for what it’s worth / i’m sorry

swim

when i was a kid, i loved swimming

going fasterfasterfaster, feeling the water part around me

like a god

a good daughter

a proper lady

.

so i learned frontstroke, and backcrawl

and even tried to pick up butterfly

but i couldn’t

my tissue paper body ripping at the seams

i still try it sometimes, out of habit

’cause you would have been so happy

.

when i was a kid, i realized

there was no warning sign i could not dismiss

false confidence and forced bravado

i was born for this

.

to cry on camera

’cause i can make misery look gorgeous

straighten my hair

and shatter my life like stained glass

and get drunk on my own tragedy

.

so i swum down to rock bottom

and stayed there ’til my lungs burned

i remember how i learned to worship the pain

and grab bricks from the bottom

drag them up with feeble kicks

of little feet

.

remember thinking to myself, on a bad day

that if i could just stay under the water

i’d be happy

with the tin-foil silence

that always felt like home

.

and i stopped swimming years ago

but sometimes, that feeling still slams into me

’cause i’m drowning

in the 40-hour workweek

the thrumming pressure

of it all

building up in my throat

.

i rinse off the chlorine

in an echoey changing room

and i don’t let my fears show

refresh my notifications

grab my backpack, and go home

My favourite things (may 19th-june 4th)

Hi there! So, it’s been a hot minute since I made one of these posts, huh? Well, here we are, back again–and I thought I’d try my best to hype up some of my favourite things from the past little while. Please check all them out, they are absolutely wonderful!

Khora

Okay, technically the title of this show has a big ol’ accented o in the title, but I’m on my computer and I don’t want to look up the alt code, so please forgive me if you made the show and are reading this.

Khora is a sci-fi podcast based off the Greek myth of the Argonauts, following Princess Medea after she kills her husband Jason. (Yes, I had to look up the myth on Wikipedia to fully appreciate this show. Yes, it was 100% worth it.) I was a huge Greek mythology kid, thanks to the wonders of Rick Riordan books–so listening to this show takes me back to the days when my entire life revolved around whether or not Jason and Piper were going to kiss, it feels very nostalgic.

I love how they interpret the stories, especially Medusa–making her a biproduct of the evil Olympus Corp’s experimentation, able to paralyze people against her will when she feels nervous. (Is this because I project onto her? Absolutely.) Anyway, I would 100% recommend it.

Second Star to the Left

Another super loose retelling–this one is based off Peter Pan, set in a world where humanity has spread amongst the stars, and the colonizing of planets is routine. Scouts like Gwendolyn Hart are sent to scout out empty planets… knowing they will never leave the planet they land on, for the rest of their lives, and won’t even see another human being for five years, when their first settlers arrive.

But Gwen isn’t completely alone–she has her Scoutminder, Bell Summers, to keep her company, and of course her trusty robot companion, Boots. (Writing these posts has made me really good at using the exact same tone a movie trailer would. What has my life come to.)

Because it’s an audio drama, obviously it has buckets of LGBT+ rep, and an evil corporation, what more could you want. I love the sound design on this show, it’s so well done, plus the voice acting is incredible. Bell’s backstory episode has to be my favourite–I was absolutely losing my mind as things unrolled. I can’t wait to see where this show goes, it’s so cool! (And absolutely going to emotionally destroy me, but oh well.)

In Transit

Another space podcast, hooray! In Transit follows the spaceship Eurus, where everything really seems like it’s going fine, until a series of murders takes place–and Alecto McAlpine (a Sentinel, or an elite soldier chosen to guard the ship) is brought out of cryo, in the hopes she’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on. But she’s about to uncover a conspiracy far greater than anyone ever could have imagined… dun dun dun…

Anyway, that’s all I can say without spoiling you, but holy shit, this is such a good show! I always say this, but I love the way it’s put together, I love the music, I love the writing–it really knows how to do a good mystery–and most of all, the found family, because I’m absolute trash for that trope. Cairo’s story especially had me more than a little emotional, and anyway now I declare him my comfort character, you can pry him out of my cold, dead hands. This is such a wonderful show, I love it so much, please check it out!

The Night Post

Next, I listened to The Night Post, which has been in my mental to-be-listened-to list for a while, since it sounded super cool. And it absolutely is! It’s set in the super-spooky Gilt City, where the supernatural is kind of just the norm. The three main characters–Val, Clementine, and Milo, all have been selected to work as pigeons for the Night Post, delivering mail by dark. Their job is feared by the wider public, which seems them harbingers of the supernatural. Which, to be fair, they might be. But they’re also… just kind of normal people, amid their high-fatality jobs? It’s a horror podcast, but it’s got lots of heart as well, and the sweetest found family. My favourite character has to be either Milo or Clem–because Milo’s voice sounds like a hug, and I see myself a little in Clem for some reason. The last episode absolutely destroyed me–I have no idea what’s going to happen in season two, and I can’t wait to listen to it, oh my gosh.

Sugar Rush

Ok, this is kind of a fish out of water amid all these super cool indie podcasts, which have touched my soul and/or emotionally destroyed me, but I have this weird obsession with baking shows and I’m going to make it everyone else’s problem. They’re just so nice to watch when I’m sad, and give me this feeling of, like, psuedo-accomplishment, I guess? Anyway, I’ve been kind of obsessed with this one of late.

The idea is, there are four teams of professional bakers, competing against each other and the clock in three rounds where they make cupcakes, confections, and finally a cake. It makes baking feel high-stakes, which I guess I have to give them some credit for. I have a ridiculous amount of fun deciding which team of lovely people to be overly critical of, and which team to root for to the grave, and pretending to know more about baking than I actually do. It’s on Netflix if you want to watch it. 🙂

Whoo! That was a pretty long post, but I’ve just been consuming a ton of media of late, what can I say? Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed. See you soon!

Lots of love,

Lorna

horizon

this morning, i drank coffee, and watched the rain fall outside, crushed by the weight of my own ignorance. but i bet someday, i’ll miss it, as i pick and choose through a brand new set of rose-coloured lenses.

but right now, i’m just trying my best not to think about irreversible damage, or moral gray areas, or the rising tide. right now, i’m gonna try my best to be kind, and soft. melt my armour like candle wax, inch by inch. i’m good at that–always knew how to compartmentalize.

so why does the smell of smoke make me want to cry? why do i do this to myself? is there actually a meaning to life? and how come times goes by this quickly, each agonizing second dripping down the clock?

marked by heaps of dishes in the sink, deadlines and homework assignments and sunshine days frying my mind to a crisp, twisting in my skull and driving the point home. again, again, again. like an overplayed song on the radio. but i can’t live without it, can’t make it stop, so i guess i’ll just have to settle for putting my hands over my mouth.

the horizon burns my vision, cotton-ball clouds brushing against my forehead. it’s so fucking delicate. ready to be remade at the flip of a coin. tell me you think about that too, sometimes.

stowaway

i used to think there was an art to being quiet. sticking to the back row seats, and doing as i’m told, no more and no less. nodding along obediently. i’m doing good, aren’t i? because if i’m not, i swear to god i’ll make it up to you. i’ll write i’m sorry across the kitchen wall, etch it out in sharpie on my palm.

i’ll cry a quiet river when it won’t wash away, and lock myself in my room for days. until this sickness starts to fade. i’m good at that too, they say.

and maybe i’ll open the door, and show it all to you someday; the photos on strings, the posters on the walls. half-finished sketches, and poems, and that really bad song. i’ll speak in brilliant colours, and look you in the eye.

i’ll know what to say, and do, when you bandage the chip on my shoulder and lay out your broken pieces like a puzzle on my lap. i’ll find all the king’s horses, just you wait and see. i’ll carve myself a place in the world, and fit the role effortlessly.

but for now, i think i just need to be alone, wrapped up in blankets on a rainy day, and write myself dizzy. let my mind go blank. in the hopes that maybe, from that empty, something will appear. something good, and kind. something new. and i won’t run away this time. i promise you.