Whos more fluent in English, your mom or dad
oh no my parents can't speak a word of english.
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@warvariations
Whos more fluent in English, your mom or dad
oh no my parents can't speak a word of english.

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i envy you for being so fluent in english as a non-native speaker. every time i try to write fiction (not often admittedly) i give up after 2 sentences because it feels unnatural to write in my first language (because i grew up on the internet etc), but i'm also not skilled enough in english AT ALL to write fiction in it. i guess what would feel most natural would be to write in an unholy mix of my first language + english (like i do when i talk to my friends) but i think i would HATE that stylistically. it would feel immature and formless and therefore also like giving up. the only escape i see is to write in a really antiquated version of my first language; i often read 16th-18th century (or even older) literature and i always think it would be a fun challenge to imitate that style. the thing is i really do feel at home in my first language, it just doesn't feel "casual" so maybe i have to lean into the un-casualness of it... since you've been on your (fan)fiction trip, have you ever attempted to write in italian as well?
i used to feel the same as you and that's how i speak and text and feel the most myself, and i've even successfully written poetry i still quite like in a mix of italian and english BUT at some point around 2021 my first language stopped feeling so convoluted and heavy and i actually started appreciating it a lot for its 'texture' and certain memories it evoked. now i would love to be writing fiction in italian because i don't experiment as much as i would like when writing fiction in english cause i'm afraid it won't work the way i intend it to due to lacking some of the context of certain words (for example i had to crash learn all the stupid words for fictional dialogue like all the sounds we make with our mouth that i'd never had to describe in non fiction writing and i still feel weird using them, like they haven't quite landed inside me yet).
i would be having a lot more fun writing fiction in Italian rn but idk if i could write 30k words in a month if nobody was reading and cheering for me, that's the trade-off. i'm also considering reworking the fic i'm writing into an actual novel once i'm done so the writing in english will continue :( what's your first language?
i did my first ever taxes and i'm getting 500$ back 👏 can't get over how fucking easy everything is here bureaucracy wise
i just realized i haven't quite mentioned this but i'm writing a fic where Ilya and Shane are sex workers in an erotic massage parlor in Berlin in 2012 and Ilya reads a lot of books. i even made him write. look
Ilya's journal hahah. i love life
this year i understood things about writing/art that i don't think i really understood before. writing has always felt to me like eating and sleeping, something i had to do, but with poetry, memoir/blogging and theory i'd never experienced quite the same magic i have now discovered with fiction. which is funny cause i used to not read fiction at all because i didn't 'trust it'.
Lily said that art that purely imitates reality can sometimes hide the invisible substance of things and i feel like i'm discovering that in the sense that the process of sublimation that happens during fiction writing as opposed to non fiction feels 'complete' in a way non fiction doesn't quite reach. like the actual substance of things is only successfully transformed through fiction.
when people talked about art and how transformative it was for them i thought it was an exaggeration, now i really do get it. i watched hamnet the other night and while i don't think paul mescal (whom i love) suited the role very well and jessie buckley stresses me to death i really resonated with the final scene where she suddenly 'gets it' and hamnet comes alive. i love how the right film always comes to me more or less randomly.
talking about things coming to me randomly. the other crazy thing about fiction is that symbols will manifest as i write and till several pages later or even the end i will not know what they're there for. at first they make no sense to me, and then suddenly something else unfolds, which i also wasn't planning, and the symbol explains itself. this happens with poetry too though, it's all that happens in poetry really, but fiction having a (usually) chronological narrative makes it feel like some sort of revelation that you were sent on a journey to experience. it's almost as if i was guided by something else, the story itself or a higher power. i call it the spirit of the however many words i wrote that day.

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sending each other 10 dollars back and forth cause there is nothing in our bank accounts ever
"hey i saw from a comment from 7 years ago that you've been to this place. do you remember this very specific corner of it. i need it for a story i'm writing" - a message i've sent more than once
going home gyhkhdgswjhfgsiaksg i never wanna hear the word nurse again. but i'm going back to work in 11 hours
hurts to say but since my brother got together with his 32 year old girlfriend he's been winning everything
a guy flirted w oliver in the changing room at the gym and he was like "i should have passed him my water bottle"

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perks of starting work at an ungodly hour
since everything got digitalized at work i'm spending 1.5 hours a day filling out forms and progress notes vs the 20 minutes it used to take before.
yesterday i wrote a boring sex scene because my heart wasn't in it (8 hours of yawns and groans, literally) but i needed it to advance the plot so i thought i'd write it intimacy coordinator style and fix it later and at the end of it i realized i had developed a bartholin cyst out of the blue. like. my body is literally telling me no more bad "i'll fix it later" sex, not even fictional! so in the end i made them piss on each other very tenderly
i often replay my dead friends' voices in my head before falling asleep to make sure i'll never forget them
this is so funny. pasolini (whom we could say is antonio's dad) was mean to your mom (morante) and my mom (rosselli) and the two of them were mean to each other and yet here we are @disorganizzarsi

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i live in a town where you can't smell a thing 🎶
:,)