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@writingwithdifficulty

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Just a woman married to her books.
Selling books @conversationkills.books

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Hello friends, it’s been awhile. Here are my wonderings and pictures that explode with my life lived.

Clarice Lispector has been on my mind almost every day since reading Água Viva almost two years ago. I feel lost now though, becoming one of those crazed fans contemplating how difficult learning Portuguese may actually be, solely so I can read her in her truest form. The Passion According to G.H. was astonishing in the way that I wasn’t sure I liked it. Deeply, I was in love with it. Limerence for Lispector I suppose, but I digress. The point of wanting to be so soaked up in the originality of her work is that I simply don’t trust the translation of the word “needy” in this novel. It was driving me insane how unnatural it felt, then when I replaced it with the simple word “need” the anger fell away and the beauty of the novel kind of exploded. But was I right to do so? Probably.

@ijustlearnedhowtoreadyesterday , who read it with me, commented on how it was nice or even refreshing to have something like a cockroach to be at the forefront of these philosophical ideals that Clarice seems to always have in The Passion, I would agree but at the same time, it’s the floatyness of these novels that entrap me.

Here’s the thing. I could talk about both of these books for years. And in a sense I have certainly burdened the people in my life who are willing to listen, but I should just go on to keep reading her instead. by @writingwithdifficulty

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5 months ago

The Friend - Sigrid Nunez

Though I finished this book maybe over a month ago, I’ve never been done with it. Instead of telling you some gauche attempt at my feelings toward it, I’ll share a story of how I was reunited with my dog.

When I had my son, I was desperately trying to fill a hole in my chest with something that would love me, so I got a dog. I wanted the most wild dog, a dog who could love anyone, so I got a pug mix. And certainly he loved me very much.

After leaving my sons dad, I knew I couldn’t give him the life he deserved and he ended up with a woman I never met, retired, loves to crochet him sweaters etc.

Almost four years later, I worked on this woman’s jeep, changing her oil and she happened to have a dog with her, pulling up with a clearly hand-crocheted steering wheel cover. I looked at the dog and wanted to cry cause he looked like Rocky, my dog. I explained this to her and she started to tear up saying this indeed was Rocky. When I called him by his name it’s like he knew me, and this woman affirmed that he recognized me. Maybe he did, but I can never be sure. Either way, I take him on walks and give him treats when I can. They live down the road.

This is one of the things this book makes me contemplate. The list is too long, I’ll just bore you. So go on, scroll across instead and take what you need.

I love you. Go read this book. by @writingwithdifficulty

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8 months ago

by @writingwithdifficulty

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8 months ago

Don’t listen to me. I know naught!

Last slide— my coworker Buck, slowly he’s bearing witness to his own life through his passion.

Love you all. taken in Ouroboros by @writingwithdifficulty

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9 months ago

After over a year of learning and studying Lucius Annaeus Seneca, I have some things to share. Here is a post of the most pivotal quotes I’ve studied and often even related to others.

Here’s the thing, many of the people who study philosophy degrees want to tell me Stoicism is just a way to cope. But isn’t all philosophy a way to cope?

Alongside every letter to Lucius from Lucius, I’ve written letters from Karen to Karen. The one thing I can teach you from all of this is that the natural state of a human is not growth, it is not natural for us to keep learning and growing that is something we have to work for every day. The trees grow and evolve as its natural state, changing and developing with every season. But the human naturally can decay in mind and body if not given the right attention and nutrients which can only be supplanted by the self. It is all honesty, kindness and justice that moves the roots, but the work of life is what sends our branches to meet the sun.

I wasn’t sure I even wanted to do this post, it’s so personal and dear to me, but it’s the holidays, and while there ‘should be’ this cheer in the air, many of my friends are suffering in their own minds. I ask you, don’t get involved in the make believe of holidays, it is not only that we should be weary of sadness, but also weary of these seemingly special and highest highs of joy, because that means we will have to come back down. Find the medium and stay neutral to it all, no expectations from the season.

I could speak so much on this, and I’m sure I’ll have more posts coming about Seneca but I will leave it here for now. 🖤

Would you want more Seneca/philosophy posts? taken in Michigan by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

Being home sick is bull shit— being home sick reading Mikes new novel is ✨luxurious✨

I’m a solid 40 pages in and hoping to finish it up today, it’s exactly what I needed when I can’t get out of bed.

Nasty flies, gore and the subtle realities of dreams in a city on the coast of Lake Michigan. It’s gross. And so good at catching you between the lines of good and evil.

If you want to check out DDT in short form (shameless plug) check out my story alongside Eric Larocca in Issue Two of @darkdeadthings, titled Folie À Deux. Southern, deadly sapphic romance that’s leaves you with many questions.

Thanks again Mike for the book and support of my writing 🖤 taken in Chicago by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

My obsession with Frankenstein persists and has utterly changed my reading habits and goals..

Numbers and books no longer relate to me—Goodreads? Good riddance…

My current reads are scattered. From my ancient stoic philosopher friends, to books written by my lineage holders and Italian novels about failed relationships, I finally feel at peace by reading whatever the fuck I want.

But, my entire focus is on my novel. Physically writing has been very cathartic, and so far we got some good bones with zero flesh. Utterly making something out of nothing; reflection of my life. Please don’t ask me what’s it’s about, because I don’t even know yet.

Very excited to share more about my reading and writing journey 🖤 hope your fall is treating you all nicely

Brb gaslighting myself to write. taken in Michigan by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔖𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔶

Having sunk my teeth into the history of the Shelleys and their life and even more deeply so into Frankenstein, I’ve curated a semi-random list of books I will read, maybe, hopefully, possibly. Currently writing my novel inspired by Frankensteins monster, a play on ethics and what we humans decide to ruminate on (fiction). I wrote The Skip in my substack if you want a sneak peak of the story to come, link in bio.

Paradise Lost, 𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫 𝔐𝔦𝔩𝔱𝔬𝔫
✨
“Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mold Me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?—“
Need I say more?

Fantasmagoriana, ou Recueil d’Histories de Spectres, Revenas, Fantômes, etc; traduit de l’allemand, par un Amateur, 𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔫-𝔅𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔱 𝔈𝔶𝔯𝔦è𝔰
✨
The poem read at the party in which a contest was held for the best horror story at the residence of a famous poet, Lord Byron (huge ass hole, kinda gives small dick energy). It was this contest that persuaded Shelley to create her well known three part novel; themes of this poem were used in the making of Frankenstein.

A Vindication of the Rights of Woman & Fleetwood, or The New Man of Feeling
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These novels were written by Mary Shelley’s parents. Fleetwood was essentially a prelude of sorts to Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus and written by her father. A very interesting theme to me is how Mary’s mother was an outwardly feminist figure, but Mary aged into a realm of conservatism (I.e. the result and revision of the original 1818 text).

The Vampyre,𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫 𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔪 𝔓𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔦
✨
Polidori was a medicine doctor, and lived with Byron for some time. He was also present as the party where the horror story contest was held, and this was his own creation. Lord Byron, huge ass hole, published the work under his own name. It’s assumed Polidori took his own life due to this event. by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

Hecuba was such a surprising read. Very rare I pick up plays and I wanted to start small. Small in size, but irrevocably dense! oh how my mind still ponders the fate of Hecuba and the fate of her daughter Polyxena. Ask me which fate I would choose and I could not answer. So I ask you instead.

For context, the majority of Hecuba’s children were murdered and sacrificed after and during the fall of Troy. Her oldest son was killed by Achilles and after the war Hecuba was captured alongside her daughter Polyxena as a slave, but Polyxena was ‘forced’ to sacrifice herself on the grave of Achilles by the orders of Achilles’ son. Polyxena bore all and chose to die as a free woman in front of the Greeks Army, yet keeping secret all of her fear.

Hecuba’s youngest son was murdered by his host Polymnestor, when he was supposed to protect him during the war. And instead of wallowing, his mother, once Queen of Troy, plotted to rip out Polymnestor’s eyes and kill his sons. And eye for an eye makes the world blind, or does it?

Art credz: Giuseppe Maria Crespi - Hecuba Blinding
Polymnestor, Oil on canvas. by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

$8 library book haul is wild. by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago

Absolutely in the middle of the road on this one yall taken in Translated by @writingwithdifficulty

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a year ago