my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called Ancient Roman sexual mores, you'll be ēbria ab tuā cucurbitā
me: yeah whatever. i don't feel shit
5 min later: a man's status as a fully gendered uir is not only not compromised but in fact bolstered by his penetration of other males
my buddy Gaius Valerius Catullus, pacing: Ō Mēmmī bene me āc diū supīnum / tōta īstā trabe lēntus īrrumāstī 😭😭
1K notes
·
View notes
wait actually just remembered this painting (catullus reading his poems in lesbia's house by lawrence alma tadema). it could work
476 notes
·
View notes
catullus my babygirl........
310 notes
·
View notes
“You pollute my memory,” Catullus murmured low. “And I yours. We seeped into each other like poison in our blood. It is wrong, but…” A pause. “Perhaps it is a story worth telling.”
Two tangled memories. One story. Can a doomed lawyer in the late Roman republic and a dead poet with genre awareness change their joint fate? Discover it...someday. Eventually. I promise. I'm working on it.
423 notes
·
View notes
Me too bro, Lesbia always loads me night and day with her curses every freakin day dude 🫡
298 notes
·
View notes
Anna Jackson, I, Clodia
848 notes
·
View notes
01/11/22 • catullus 51 via sappho 16 via new scientist issue 3397
Some say aircraft and helicopters and some say
telescopes and batteries and some say fuels
and flight technologies are the most lovely thing
on this dark Earth,
but I say it is the aim of holding you
skin-to-skin, human-to-human, text-to-text,
without any reflection of a god
written between us.
this isn't the real issue. you smile, and your mirror
image in history looks away, and I watch
and lose focus and all communication
systems fail—
(I have been running out of the words for this story
for the past 2000 years.)
We need surgery to repair a broken silence. We need
pulses of electricity, coursing through bone and
muscle and skin. to replace the malfunctioning
solar panels of my eyes.
and I remember. I would rather see you again
than all the emergency luminescence of
a major spacefaring nation, burning through the
future like jet fuel.
2K notes
·
View notes
Welcome to the Latin Literature Tournament!
Selections are based on my university's Latin reading list, with a couple names added to round it out to 32 contestants. So unfortunately, not every author managed to make the cut--I'm sorry to all three of my fellow Silius Italicus fans :(
I'm accepting propaganda for any of the competitors! Drop your arguments, panegyrics, hot takes, and trash talk in an ask!
Polls open up on Monday, 4/22, and will be open for a week! All reblogs are greatly appreciated!
80 notes
·
View notes
oh you like catullus? well then name a thousand of his kisses, and then a hundred, and then another thousand, and a second hundred, then yet another thousand, and another hundred
471 notes
·
View notes
'religion in the late republic' in religions of rome, mary beard, john north, and simon price, p. 165
206 notes
·
View notes
okay okay but the thing with ariadne & the minotaur I'm thinking about is like. the minotaur is inside the labyrinth and she's outside of it. she doesn't see the minotaur and he doesn't see her but probably they both know each other exist. maybe they both wonder about each other. so what's making me chew on glass is that she sends theseus in, to a brother whose face she barely knows but still thinks about, and he kills him and the minotaur's gone, just like that, without her ever seeing him again, and just like that she's brotherless. And Then. thinking about This Line from ariadne's lament in catullus 64:
respersum iuuenem fraterna caede secuta
("following a young man spattered with my brother's blood")
which like. yes it's metaphorical but also thinking that possibly all she ever saw again was theseus walking out of the labyrinth dripping in her brother's blood. what it must be like to have a brother one moment and then not have anything of a brother except what's spattered across the face of a man who she's given everything up for and she's now supposed to kiss. aughhgbnghn
620 notes
·
View notes
163 notes
·
View notes
“I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.”
Catullus 85
Drawn in 2022
775 notes
·
View notes