Treasure Planet (2002) dir. John Musker & Ron Clements + Nightingale
To muse and blabber about a treasure map in front of this particular crew, demonstrates a level of ineptitude that borders on the imbecilic! And I mean that in a very caring way.
When someone dies their silence becomes a sort of held note, a key on the piano pressed down for so long it becomes an ache in the ear, a new sonic register from which we start to measure our new, ruptured lives. A white noise. Maybe this is why there is so much music in dying: the funerals, the singing, the hymns, the eulogies. All those sounds crowding the air with what the dead can’t say.
Ocean Vuong, The Weight of Our Living: On Hope, Fire Escapes, and Visible Desperation
saw a tiktok of a mother taking her very tiny daughter to an art museum and she’s just walking around going “whoooa” “woooaah” to everything but then they got to a marble statue of a nude woman lying on her back and the girl points and goes “mommy🫵” and i just immediately welled up with tears and all the comments are just laughing about it and of course it’s funny but how are you not insanely moved by the way art connects everyone on earth from a centuries-old sculptor to a toddler in 2023
fandom will see a female character with the most interesting backstory and inner turmoil in the entire media and be like “…anyways. where’s the closest man we can pretend has the exact problems she has”
I love music by straight women that is moving and genius and profound but you can tell the guy shes talking about is literally not ensouled and shes fucking completely imagining 95% of what shes talking about. I love your beautiful mind angel