Neil Gaiman on the American Gods TV adaptation (via tokenblkgirl)
Because Gaiman’s a renowned author - a renowned white author who is also a man - people will listen. I’m sure of it. If he were a POC, I would be far less sure that people would do so. And that makes me sad. At least it’s something — at least Gaiman’s never been shy about straightforwardly pointing out that he’s a white dude author, and has basically in his books has mostly always been like “this person is light or dark brown”, “this person is light skinned”, etc., which in part challenges the assumed default of whiteness in Fantasy. It’s not enough, though, and it is absolutely privilege that makes it okay for him to do that in the first place, and I wish I could be confident that people would then actually listen to POC about this shit because we’ve been making a fuss about this for an awfully long time!
Not to mention the fact of his being a white dude makes people rush to his defence when he says/does super problematic stuff.(via evewithanapple) Yeah, this. I kinda hate to be a party pooper, considering his books saved my life and I like that he’s saying this, but he’s not perfect. Even if he did write Sandman and is anti-whitewashing, he still has feet of clay.
I Google you
Late at night when I don’t know what to do
I find photos you’ve forgotten you were in
Put up by your friends
I do, I Google you
When the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal that you kept that month in France
I’ve watched you dance
And I’m pleased your name is practically unique
It’s only you and a would-be PhD from Chesapeake
Who writes papers on the structure of the sun
I’ve read each one
I know that I should let you fade
But there’s that box and there’s your name
Somehow it never makes the pain grow less or fade or disappear
I think that I should save my soul and I should crawl back in my hole
But it’s too easy just to fold and type your name again, I fear
I Google you
When I’m all alone and don’t know what to do
And each shred of information that I gather
Says you’ve found somebody new
And it really shouldn’t matter
Ought to blow up my computer
I Google you
—> Oh Neil, this is exactly how I feel about you too. We can be stalkers together!
…it occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we think of as fragile is how tough they truly are. There were tricks we did with eggs, as children, to show how they were, in reality, tiny load-bearing marble halls; while the beat of the wings of a butterfly in the right place, we are told, can create a hurricane across an ocean. Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and tangible of things, can prove remarkably difficult to kill.
Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds’ eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or are they words in the air, composed of sounds and ideas — abstract, invisible, gone once they’ve been spoken — and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created."