The pathetic fallacy is the attribution of your emotions to outside forces. Trees, the sky, other people. It’s basically a literary term for the incredibly narcissistic. And ya boy’s got it bad.
I’m in a funk—whenever I type the word “funk” I think of Tobias Funke from Arrested Development and how they pronounced it “Fwoon-kay” and I thought that was so weird until I realized it’s the legitimate German way to pronounce that surname—and because I’m a massive narcissist, I’m seeing it reflected back onto the external world.
Gilmore Girls is getting particularly dark. A YouTube favorite of mine just got dumped. There was another bombing in Belgium today. Former mayor Rob Ford died. These things are not on the same level, and they’re not caused or related back to me. they’re bad things that are happening in the world.
And it’s hard to find the energy to try to be positive right now, to spin a web—anyone get that RHOBH reference—because sometimes the world is an incredibly ugly, harsh, dark place. But I think if I didn’t write it out, if I didn’t put it onto paper, it would roil inside me like a miasma, and it would sicken me. We need to talk about things. About the bombing. About death.
In my English class, we’re talking about Romanticism. And it deals a lot with balance and equality. Not in a Neoclassicist, orderly way, but in a more wild, vicious way. Beauty is vicious. Pain is artful. Pain is ugly. Beauty is harsh. And somehow the world keeps spinning, even though that’s a fucking rude thing to do, world.
I think I’ve been in a slump for a while now and I’m just realizing. It’s funny how that happens. The slip is so gradual and soft that you don’t realize, until suddenly you look up and the sky is a pinprick in velvet darkness and you’re sloshing around in quicksand. Do you slosh in quicksand? I saw How To Be Single last night and they mention “dicksand” which I think was supposed to be more metaphorical and less horrific, but it still sticks in the brain like…well, like dicksand.
Ugh. Literally ugh.