Posts Tagged: panic attack
I Will Not Die for You
Each bug in the water is one less bug on my fruit, I tell myself, ignoring the truth: under the soil, another is born.
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Run for Her Life
Maybe you didn’t remember to get out of his way while pretending to be brave. It’s hard to be brave when you think a man is about to kill you.
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The Evolution of a Trigger
Perhaps they are really saying: This will not happen to me. I will be prepared. And, in hoisting that hypothetical gun, they feel they are made safe from the appalling vulnerability of living.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: No Wound
Maybe I can touch it and show it to you. If I convince you, we can call it real. And then perhaps it will be.
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My Voice for Their Drugs
Anxiety disorients me from inside. My heart moves so erratically I’m afraid it will give out, my breath so staggered I have to remind myself to take in air.
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The Mortgage Arrangement
It’s true that real estate can’t save a marriage. But it might be equally true that it can save a relationship.
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Rapture of the Deep
The point is not to lose yourself to that landscape, and to not become fearful of new landscapes.
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Albums of Our Lives: Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports
I drifted off and dreamed that Emily and I donned riding hoods and ran through the forest to escape from wolves.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: A Brief History of a Bad Heart
She studies you, still panting with an energy that consumes the room, and whispers in a reedy voice: “They say you fucked up your heart.”
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The Rumpus Interview with William Cusick
Director William Cusick discusses his new film, Pop Meets the Void, its unconventional narrative structure, simultaneously acting and directing, and the universal urge to create.
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The Saturday Rumpus Review: Güeros
It’s a literal confrontation of his metaphorical fear, a visual take on Rilke’s words: to view Güeros is to see a “thing poem” on the screen, to witness something like “The Panther” materialize.
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Swinging Modern Sounds #61: Songs for the Alliterative at Heart
Michael Hearst has come a long way from the guy who played plastic wind instruments on Seventh Avenue, to an admirably creative and original adulthood.
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Between Botany and Alchemy: A Return to Return to Oz
This was a world I wished I’d created myself.
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anhedonia and Hypertext
Depression is often marked by this type of absence—loss of pleasure, loss of energy, loss of meaning. It is frequently described as a type of nothingness, and while that nothingness is something, it can elude usual means of communication.
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