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Gatsby - Blog Posts
If you asked me about The Great Gatsby I would say Nick had a big fat homosexual crush on Gatsby. If you really asked me I would say
“it’s clear in the text that Nick is obsessed with Daisy in such a way that he leeches onto her. This could also be said of how he views Gatsby. One could say that Nick is just jealous of Gatsby but his inner monologue doesn’t reflect this sentiment. Just as Nick does Daisy he latches onto Gatsby’s social circle and life,attending his parties,following him to other sorts of activities and gatherings and some such things like that. Given all my conclusive evidence I think that Nick was just as infatuated (more so in a romantical/the way he romanticized jays life)with Gatsby as he was Daisy”
Which is basically the same thing but like with more yap. Anyway sorry if that was too much yap.
Elizabeth Debicki as Jordan Baker
The Great Gatsby (2013) | Dir. Baz Luhrmann
hello beloveds ☺️
We can thank both Elizabeth Debicki as Jordan Baker and the eternally iconic Louise Brooks for my current 1920s flapper hairstyle
Elizabeth Debicki in The Great Gatsby (2013)
My music and aesthetic will make 10000 references to this beautiful yet tragic man and I will make sure of that
the thing about jay gatsby is that despite everything you still wanna be him soooooooo bad
I am OBSESSED with this humor it's slowly taking over my life. Good afternoon ladies and disappointments
The Great Gatsby + Tumblr Text Posts Part 7
These are genuine gifts to the world
The Great Gatsby + Tumblr Text Posts Part 8
Mood: Attend a luxurious party at West Egg Manor hosted by Jay Gatsby & get tipsy off glasses of white champagne 🥂
I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via sunst0ne)
When I was sixteen I read The Great Gatsby, and oh - Oh! I said, how it flows, how does this gorgeous iambic pentameter work its way through the valves of my arteries? ‘Within and without’ runs in my blood. Everything sounds like money to me. I wandered lonely as a cloud, only, no, old sport, I don’t wander, I plan. I lift weights like Benjamin Franklin. I gaze out, out, out, I am the poet. I am the huntsman. I lie in wait. I have for years. Sometimes I forget about The Bell Jar, but I remember The Iron Giant. Let me tell you, I’ve watched that movie every year of my life since I was seven years old, and I fell in love with the robot from a children’s story book to the big screen. I have since studied Metamorphoses and watched the hawk fly through the rain, but choking to death on my own breath? A touchy subject. What does F. Scott Fitzgerald have to say for himself when his wife’s journals lay strewn across his back catalogue? Where was Ted Hughes when Sylvia Plath collapsed in the kitchen? Boasting about his own work, or belittling hers? In 2008 The Times ranked Hughes fourth on their list of ‘The 50 greatest British writers since 1945’. Where is Sylvia Plath? Where is Zelda Fitzgerald? Where are the women? Where are the gentle hands, the voices that clink like coins, where are the dangerous curves, where is the soaring fire of our generation? Show me your nails, filed to claws. Give me your ragged hearts, give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, give me your words. I want to hear your voices, louder and more insistent than ever before. I want The Times to write a new list. I need to hear the murmurs of agreement of every lecturer in the Arts and Humanities department of each university as they turn it over in their hands. To see a split between every gender so even that no one remembers where the line is, where the line ever was. This wave’s classic writers are gone, so bare your teeth and show me your fighting stance.
we are still behind the yellow wallpaper | ishani jasmin (via ishanijasmin)
So beautiful, so complicated, so problematic...
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Scott F. Fitzgerald
more at @search-parties ✨
The closing lines of The Great Gatsby, perhaps the most enigmatic in American literature, handwritten by F. Scott Fitzgerald himself.
I’m only 32. I might still be a great man if I could forget that I once…lost Daisy, but…