elucipher
Romeo can’t really be blamed for Ophelia’s death.

Senior English major on a Shakespeare final. (via minininny)

WELL THEY’RE NOT WRONG

——

How about this, though?

image

[Editorial Note: This “theory” depends on believing the Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet take place contemporaneously. So, for the sake of argument, let’s all agree that the events of both plays occur in the Spring of 1517 (chosen because of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, and the Reformational threads that run through Hamlet).]

See, in the Second Quarto and First Folio versions of Romeo and Juliet, a[n extremely minor] character appears with Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio at the Capulet’s Party (where, if you recall, Romeo meets Juliet for the first time).

Like Hamlet's Horatio, this Horatio is full of well-worded philosophical advice. He tells Romeo “And to sink in it should you burden love, too great oppression for a tender thing.”

image

Fig. 1 - Second Quarto Printing

image

Fig. 2 - First Folio Printing

[The American Shakespeare Center’s Education Blog discusses the likely “real” reasons for Horatio’s presence]

Let’s imagine that Horatio has travelled down from Wittenberg (about 540 miles) to Verona for his Spring Break. He hears about some guys who like to party (because, let’s be honest, besides getting stabbed, partying is Mercutio’s main thing). So, he ends up crashing the Capulet’s ball with them.

He is then on the sidelines as Romeo and Juliet fall in love, Tybalt kills Mercutio, Romeo kills Tybalt, Romeo gets banished, and both lovers are found dead in Juliet’s tomb.

This tragedy fresh in his mind, he returns to Wittenberg at the end of what has turned out to be a decidedly un-radical Spring Break and discovers that his bestie Prince Hamlet is leaving for Elsinore Castle because he’s just gotten news that his father, the King, is dead.

On the trip up (another ~375 miles), Horatio recounts the tragic romance he just witnessed in Verona. He advises (as he is wont to do) Hamlet not to mix love and revenge.

Hamlet takes Horatio’s advice to heart, breaking up with Ophelia so that he can focus is energy on discovering and punishing his father’s killer:

HAMLET
Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET

You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.

Ophelia - burdened by the perceived loss of Hamlet’s love and his murder of her father - goes mad and drowns herself.

You see, if Romeo had waited literally a minute and thirty seconds longer (31 iambic pentametrical lines) - he, Juliet, Ophelia (and possibly the rest of the Hamlet characters) would have made it.

* With thanks to roguebelle.

(via thefeminineending)

Buncha fuckin nerds in this town.

(via moriartini)

The Hamratiophelia Conspiracy Theory ftw

(via zahnie)

elucipher
zrances:

FILL THE GRAVEYARDS » a monster mix

a mix for the things with fangs and bloody fingernails, with wings and scales and tar black souls. for reveling in wickedness, for eating your lover whole, for the power that comes with wearing your monstrousness on your sleeve (or biding your time). for the predators and the damned and the haunted things that wait by the side of the road. this is what it means to be bad.

01. howl / florence + the machine (i hunt for you with bloody feet, across the hallowed ground)02. where they wander / the horrorpops (we walk like dead, smell like dead, we look better than when we met)03. demon daughters / phantom planet (down from the sky to the back of his mind, to pick it clean to leave nothing behind)04. bloodletting (the vampire song) / concrete blonde (there’s a crack in the mirror and a bloodstain on the bed) 05. the man with the x-ray eyes / bauhaus (i have seen too much, wipe away my eyes)06. monster / kanye west (i smell a massacre, seems to be the only way to back you bastards up)07. mermaid / okkervil river (she’s so thin and so pale, i see her rise up…)08. red right hand / nick cave & the bad seeds (he’ll reach into the hole, heal your shrinking soul)09. the horror of our love / ludo (and i hold your beating chambers until they beat no more- you die like angels sing)10. lighthouse / the hush sound (her lover was a sailor, she went and she waited there; the door locked from the outside, lover never arrived)
LISTEN

zrances:

FILL THE GRAVEYARDS » a monster mix

a mix for the things with fangs and bloody fingernails, with wings and scales and tar black souls. for reveling in wickedness, for eating your lover whole, for the power that comes with wearing your monstrousness on your sleeve (or biding your time). for the predators and the damned and the haunted things that wait by the side of the road. this is what it means to be bad.

01. howl / florence + the machine (i hunt for you with bloody feet, across the hallowed ground)
02. where they wander / the horrorpops (we walk like dead, smell like dead, we look better than when we met)
03. demon daughters / phantom planet (down from the sky to the back of his mind, to pick it clean to leave nothing behind)
04. bloodletting (the vampire song) / concrete blonde (there’s a crack in the mirror and a bloodstain on the bed)
05. the man with the x-ray eyes / bauhaus (i have seen too much, wipe away my eyes)
06. monster / kanye west (i smell a massacre, seems to be the only way to back you bastards up)
07. mermaid / okkervil river (she’s so thin and so pale, i see her rise up…)
08. red right hand / nick cave & the bad seeds (he’ll reach into the hole, heal your shrinking soul)
09. the horror of our love / ludo (and i hold your beating chambers until they beat no more- you die like angels sing)
10. lighthouse / the hush sound (her lover was a sailor, she went and she waited there; the door locked from the outside, lover never arrived)

LISTEN

therumpus
One of the reasons that I wanted to study literature was because it exposed everything. Writers looked for secrets that had never been mined. Every writer has to invent their own magical language in order to describe the indescribable. They might seem to be writing in French, or English, or Spanish, but really they were writing in the language of butterflies, crows, and hanged men.
From The Girl Who Was Saturday Night by Heather O’Neill, reviewed for The Rumpus by Liz Fischer Greenhill (via therumpus)
therumpus
Let me be an encyclopedia, an archive. Here are more facts: you can eat birch—its leaves are rich in vitamin C and the inner bark ground into flour is a famine food, a last resort. Birch sap can be crystallized into sugar or fermented into wine. Herbalists prescribe spring buds to treat fevers and you can soak the bark and make a cast to set broken bones. Birch tar is used to treat skin ailments; conversely, it’s the base for glue on arrows when you wish to send a swift sharpness through the air. And so birch is—like everything—capable of both healing and harm.
shewatchesworlds
afamiliardog:

doctornerdington:

jawdust:

Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane
Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial.
In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school. 
This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’. 
The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius.
Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men.
Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23.
Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution.
In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless. 
But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72.
Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read.
Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co.
But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton.
Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement.
Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever.

Um, holy shit.

My favorite story about Nellie Bly is that she was intending to go around the world in eighty days for her newspaper company, but they figured a man should go instead.  “Fuck that,” she said essentially, “I’m going anyway, and I’ll beat him.” and she DID

To my dismay he told me that in the office they had thought of this same idea before and the intention was to send a man. However he offered me the consolation that he would favor my going, and then we went to talk with the business manager about it.
"It is impossible for you to do it," was the terrible verdict. "In the first place you are a woman and would need a protector, and even if it were possible for you to travel alone you would need to carry so much baggage that it would detain you in making rapid changes. Besides you speak nothing but English, so there is no use talking about it; no one but a man can do this."
"Very well," I said angrily, "Start the man, and I’ll start the same day for some other newspaper and beat him."
[x]

she also took a detour to say “hey” to Jules Verne, who told her “if you do it in seventy-nine days, I shall applaud with both hands,” which of course she did, with a few days to spare.

afamiliardog:

doctornerdington:

jawdust:

Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane

  • Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial.
  • In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school. 
  • This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’. 
  • The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius.
  • Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men.
  • Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23.
  • Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution.
  • In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless. 
  • But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72.
  • Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read.
  • Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co.
  • But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton.
  • Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement.
  • Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever.

Um, holy shit.

My favorite story about Nellie Bly is that she was intending to go around the world in eighty days for her newspaper company, but they figured a man should go instead.  “Fuck that,” she said essentially, “I’m going anyway, and I’ll beat him.” and she DID

To my dismay he told me that in the office they had thought of this same idea before and the intention was to send a man. However he offered me the consolation that he would favor my going, and then we went to talk with the business manager about it.

"It is impossible for you to do it," was the terrible verdict. "In the first place you are a woman and would need a protector, and even if it were possible for you to travel alone you would need to carry so much baggage that it would detain you in making rapid changes. Besides you speak nothing but English, so there is no use talking about it; no one but a man can do this."

"Very well," I said angrily, "Start the man, and I’ll start the same day for some other newspaper and beat him."

[x]

she also took a detour to say “hey” to Jules Verne, who told her “if you do it in seventy-nine days, I shall applaud with both hands,” which of course she did, with a few days to spare.

businesscasuallabcoat
sebastianbaestan:

digieggofbooty:

cowgirltits:

daunt:

bro-bots:

fabledquill:

this is
the cutest thing ever

it would be cuter if i could pronounce it
where are the vowels

what do the welsh do with vowels? D:

They gave them to Hawaii.

Alright you wanna know what?
Welsh language is RIDICULOUS
We don’t even have the fucking letter X. Half our words are just the english word misspelled.
Taxi? No no you mean tacsi.
Ambulance? Wrong it’s ambiwlans.
The other half of our words are just ridiculous.
Computer is fucking cyfriddiadur. Try and fucking say that i dare you and i promise you’ll say it wrong because Welsh is fucking ridiculous.
You know the letter d? Yeah we have that. But we also have the letter dd.
D AND DD ARE TWO SEPARATE LETTERS WHAT THE FUCK
AND FUCKING NUMBERS OH MY GOD
1 is un
2 is dau
3 is fucking tri what are we irish?
4 is pedwar
5 is pump. Pronounced pimp ffs
6 is fucking chwech what the fuck
7 is saith
8 is wyth what the fuck
9 is naw
10 is deg
WANN KNOW WHAT 11 IS?
FUCKING UN DEG UN
IT FUCKING TRANSLATES TO ONE TEN ONE
20 IS DAU DEG WHICH IS TWO TEN
21 IS DAU DEG UN WHICH IS TWO TEN ONE
And fucking colours man
fucking colours
Pink is just pinc
WHITE IS FUCKING BLANC
DONT FUCKING TRUST THE WELSH WE’LL CONFUSE YOU WITH OUR LANGUAGE AND FUCK YOUR SHEEP WHILE YOURE DISTRACTED

sebastianbaestan:

digieggofbooty:

cowgirltits:

daunt:

bro-bots:

fabledquill:

this is

the cutest thing ever

it would be cuter if i could pronounce it

where are the vowels

what do the welsh do with vowels? D:

They gave them to Hawaii.

Alright you wanna know what?

Welsh language is RIDICULOUS

We don’t even have the fucking letter X. Half our words are just the english word misspelled.

Taxi? No no you mean tacsi.

Ambulance? Wrong it’s ambiwlans.

The other half of our words are just ridiculous.

Computer is fucking cyfriddiadur. Try and fucking say that i dare you and i promise you’ll say it wrong because Welsh is fucking ridiculous.

You know the letter d? Yeah we have that. But we also have the letter dd.

D AND DD ARE TWO SEPARATE LETTERS WHAT THE FUCK

AND FUCKING NUMBERS OH MY GOD

1 is un

2 is dau

3 is fucking tri what are we irish?

4 is pedwar

5 is pump. Pronounced pimp ffs

6 is fucking chwech what the fuck

7 is saith

8 is wyth what the fuck

9 is naw

10 is deg

WANN KNOW WHAT 11 IS?

FUCKING UN DEG UN

IT FUCKING TRANSLATES TO ONE TEN ONE

20 IS DAU DEG WHICH IS TWO TEN

21 IS DAU DEG UN WHICH IS TWO TEN ONE

And fucking colours man

fucking colours

Pink is just pinc

WHITE IS FUCKING BLANC

DONT FUCKING TRUST THE WELSH WE’LL CONFUSE YOU WITH OUR LANGUAGE AND FUCK YOUR SHEEP WHILE YOURE DISTRACTED

aubernutter-deactivated20140624
I am trying to see things in perspective. My dog wants a bite of my peanut butter chocolate chip bagel. I know she cannot have this, because chocolate makes dogs very sick. My dog does not understand this. She pouts and wraps herself around my leg like a scarf and purrs and tries to convince me to give her just a tiny bit. When I do not give in, she eventually gives up and lays in the corner, under the piano, drooping and sad. I hope the universe has my best interest in mind like I have my dog’s. When I want something with my whole being, and the universe withholds it from me, I hope the universe thinks to herself: "Silly girl. She thinks this is what she wants, but she does not understand how it will hurt.
THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE by Blythe Baird (via thearistocatic)