Finally I’m getting cleaner and she stops flipping me. And I start falling. She lets me fall every time. “It’s a blind landing, Hanlon,” she says. “You’re trying to find the ground. You gotta know it’s not there.”
I try to pretend I’m her. Try to feel tight like she does, so tight nothing can touch her. I think of squeezing my whole body into a tight ball. “Ride that jump longer,” her voice out there somewhere, vibrating in my ear, her hands there but not.
And then releasing.
"Open your body," she keeps saying, and it’s shuddering through my whole head. "Open it."
And I feel myself doing just that, an explosion from the centre of me to my toes, my fingertips.
It is just after dark, the timered deck lamps flickering to life, when I start landing it. The feeling is majestic, and I know I could do anything. I feel like I could rotate myself forever and land every time, arms upraised, chest high, body both shattered then restored. Immaculate.”
"Girly," she says, lively and light, like you rarely hear, "you have no idea the wonderful things men will make you feel."
Tacy smiles, we all do.
"And terrible things, too," Coach adds, her voice tinier now. "But the terrible things are… are kind of a wonder too, I guess."
Tacy props her feet up on the foot of Coach’s lounger. “How can something terrible ever be wonderful?” she asks, and I cringe a little. I know how, I want to say. I know how, everything wonderful is terrible too. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.”
oh god oh god oh god im applying for this summer internship and im terrified bc i don’t think i’ve ever wanted something as much as this in my life before
would you hire this girl
i did it i applied oh god oh god oh god
hobby: timing the interval between otherwise serious academics deciding to write an article about dionysus and completely losing their fucking shit
man my outfit today is hella cute but im not gonna see anyone who can admire it until like six sad times
man i talk so much shit about walter f otto but his batshittery is weirdly refreshing
im drunk and tired and it’s nearly 3am and i still have like half a page of translation to go and i can’t remember what the sodding middle passive does and my hair’s been awful for like two days and i was supposed to read like half of medea for tomorrow and i haven’t and divinity guy hasn’t messaged me in like a month and they never had to deal with boring shit like this in the secret history
pre-secret history artemis: second-year classical studies student; one semester of new testament greek to fill out sub-honours timetable with no plans to continue; vague dissertation ideas concerning comparative translation issues/sparta/the persica/something to do with brecht???? comparatively few problems
post-secret history artemis: third-year classical studies student; greek all day every day; planning on overloading courses in fourth year to take more greek; owes library fifteen quid thanks to overdue copy of the masks of dionysus; proposed dissertation topic “unless the mind catch fire: divine madness in greek tragedy”; many, many problems
oh man keep going keep going, i don’t even have words to describe what an astonishing book it is. like, reading it genuinely changed my entire course of study and sent me down a whole different path re: my dissertation topic. i was 500% non-serious with that post, i want EVERYBODY to read it and i’m super glad you’re enjoying it!! it’s the kind of book where i sometimes wish i’d never read it so i could read it for the first time again