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james
@jameshaha.bsky.social
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auDHD and cartoon funnies
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Reposted by james
itsautismlads.bsky.social
Emily Dickinson was sensitive and unusually earnest in her letters. They're sprinkled with one-sided friendships, hurt and confusion - when friends grew apart from her, she fixated for years on why 🧵

There's plenty written about her ND-reminiscent quirks - but I'm just now learning about her mum:
A very local person, she was tightly bound to family and friends, familiar routines, a limited palette of country sights and sounds. When Olivia went back to Herrick's school in summer 1826, her letter to Emily developed the feelings she knew her cousin could enter into- how she yearned for "the retirement of our little village" and missed "that little circle of dear friends." She acknowledged a letter from Emily ("quite too short," to be sure) that "spoke of the dear little bird- the Whippoorwill- I have heard but one since I left home- I believe there are more of them in M[onson] than anywhere- The Cat-edid supplies its place here- presume you have not forgotten what fine music they used to make in Temple-street [Whittlesey's home]." "Fine music" is sarcastic, but the passage still strikes the right chords: Emily's strong local attachments, her love of rural tranquility, and her alertness to sound- not just the dramatic whippoorwill but the background of locust- or cicada-song. Although Emily made "but few" acquaintances, she clearly won over Reverend Herrick, who spoke of her three years later, according to Olivia, "with a great degree of interest-says he became very much attached to you." The passage suggests that those who liked Emily understood that her good qualities might not be universally appreciated. The following year a younger brother took for granted she would be "attending to domestic affairs this summer," but still expressed the hope there would be leisure for "social intercourse or reading" and she would not be "continually pent up in the kitchen." His fears seem to have been on target: in his next letter, dated November 1 (the season when hordes of flies left barnyards for the warmth of houses), he could only trust that she was "victorious over your mortal enemies, the Flies." It may well be that a heavy workload kept the poet's mother from cultivating her mental powers and acquiring social ease.
October 28, 2023 at 5:39 AM
Reposted by james
itsautismlads.bsky.social
Carl Jung was just a quirky lad and I wish we had the language to describe his cognitive style but we just don't
October 23, 2023 at 12:54 AM
jameshaha.bsky.social
Most writers wish they could write a story like 'for sale baby shoes'

But did you know that even Hemingway's first draft wasn't perfect?

Check out this rare early draft of Hemingway baby shoes and remember, #writing takes 10,000 hours or 7 years; whichever one is longest
September 28, 2023 at 3:05 PM