#this came to me in a poetic trans-like state | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radfem-moira · 4 years

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I know this has been talked about to death but I recently came across it again and I cannot help but be simultaneously amused and appalled by this particular section:

Surprisingly, among the 127 participants open to dating a trans person, almost half selected a trans person of a gender incongruent with their stated sexual orientation. For example, 50% of the trans-inclusive straight women and 28% of the trans-inclusive gay men were willing to date a trans woman, even though one wouldn’t expect either straight women or gay men to be attracted to women. Similarly, 50% of trans-inclusive straight men and 69% of trans-inclusive lesbians said they’d date a trans man, even though both groups are presumably only attracted to women. And 33% of the trans-inclusive bisexual/queer participants said they would only date a trans person of one gender but not the other, even though one may expect this group to be attracted to multiple genders.

Surprisingly. Surprisingly. Are the people who push transgender rhetoric truly so disconnected from reality (this article is only two years old, so I don’t expect that this has changed recently) that they think people's sexual orientation and attraction dies as soon as someone cosmetically alters their body?

I was confused about this wording, and I figured this was just the way the writers of this report had decided to present the findings. Surely, no serious researcher would arbitrarily choose to ignore the fact that dating same-sex trans people - gay men dating trans women, and lesbian women dating trans men - is not uncommon. But lo-and-behold, from the mouth of the authors (I know it’s paywalled, DM me if you want the PDF, I might be able to arrange it):

In an ideal world, free of cisgenderism and transprejudice, an individual’s gender identity (transgender vs. cisgender) would not factor into whether they were viewed as a viable dating partner. In such a world, dating decisions would be premised on preexisting desires, such that an individual interested in women would be interested in trans women and cisgender women.

Ooooo boy, we’re starting strong. Three pages in and they’re already waxing poetics about a world where the gays and the straights have been moralized into fucking the sex they’re not naturally attracted to. Yeah. To these people, in an ideal world, gender identity exists, but not sexual orientation. And then they say transgender ideology isn’t inherently a homophobic movement. But I digress.

When a participant says that they would be willing to date a trans person of the same biological sex, the authors classified this naively as an ‘incongruent response’. Lesbians who claimed to be willing to date trans people were the most likely to fall in this category, and at least, the authors had a sensible explanation for this:

While one may be tempted to explain the high rate of incongruent responses among the lesbians in the current sample as cissexist, we caution against such an interpretation of these data. Such a conclusion would be overly simplistic and ignorant of the realities of lesbian herstories and the complexities of gender (e.g., Meir et al., 2013). While biologically determinist views of gender likely play a role in some, or all instances of incongruence, another likely contributor is the lived experience of having dated partners assigned female at birth who have transitioned either during or after the relationship, thereby providing some lesbian women with the experience of having initially begun a same-sex relationship that ultimately turned into a mixed-sex relationship with a trans man (Pfeffer, 2008). This experience or, perhaps just the awareness of the potential for this experience based on the experience of peers, may have led some lesbian participants to indicate openness to dating trans men but not trans women. In other words, the lesbian women in the sample who responded in an incongruent manner may have lived experience with having had a past (or current) partner undergo a gender affirmative transition, demonstrating how intimate bonds can often move beyond boundaries of identity (Canoy, 2015; McDermott, 2010). Indeed, past research has examined the experiences of lesbian women whose partners pursue a gender affirming transition while in the midst of a relationship, often resulting in the lesbian partner reconfiguring her own understanding of her sexuality and lesbian identity in an attempt to continue the relationship with her now trans masculine partner (Pfeffer, 2008; Riggs et al., 2015).

This, to me, is the most interesting, and saddening, part of this study. Not the fact that trans people aren’t getting laid. Not even the fact that the authors of this study calls a cis lesbian x trans man relationship a ‘mixed-sex relationship’.

To me, it’s how lesbians are the most likely of all single-sex-attracted sexual orientations (gay men, gay women, het men, het women) to overall an entire part of their core identity just to ensure their partner feels good about themselves. In other words, lesbians are far more likely to relent and call themselves ‘bisexual’ or ‘pansexual’ or ‘queer’, to renounce their identities as lesbians, just for the sake of their partner’s ego. Our love is so filled with self-denial and self-effacement, it’s astonishing.

And what’s most disheartening about this, to me, is that the rest of the world inevitably views this as a good thing. People praise lesbians, and also straight women, who choose to stay with their transitioning partners. Lesbians have a long history of gender non-conformity, so one could hypothesize that the reason we’re less likely to be fazed by a change of pronouns and some cosmetic alterations is that many of us find masculine females attractive anyway. Straight women who love feminine men are not nearly as ubiquitous as lesbian women who love masculine women.

But at the end of the day, my issue isn’t that lesbians stay after their partner decides to become a trans man. It’s that they’re expected by these partners and by their social groups to renounce their lesbianism as a result. This reeks of homophobia to me, and the fact that ‘reconfiguring her own understanding of her sexuality and lesbian identity in an attempt to continue the relationship with her now trans masculine partner’ is not seen as goddamn horrific and wrong.

There is SO much more batshit insanity in this study, ranging from talks of masculine privilege. Turns out the report I first linked is pretty close to the original content. Academia is truly completely disconnected from the real world and the people that inhabit it.

#i may revisit the rest of the article at another time since this is getting a bit long #musings #homophobia #lesbophobia

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femboty2k · 3 years

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Long post about something I think about a lot and that doesn’t matter to anyone else but me probably

I’m sure there’s a million posts out there on why good representation is important and good but I just wanted to talk shortly about something that happened to me in a recent span of a few months involving a character in a dumb game about collecting jpegs of anime women and hunky dudes with giant swords.

There’s a game called Granblue Fantasy, its an extremely popular gacha game/JRPG with a very large roster of characters and a lot of stuff to do as far as reading through character lore, fighting JRPG battles, raids, and basically playing VNs for character dialogue. It’s a pretty good game, and one of the coolest things about it, is it has (to my knowledge, I dont play/keep up with it very often) 2 canon trans characters. One is named Cagliostro, an alchemist who was born as a man but through extensive experimentation and some self discovery has since transitioned into a woman, hell bent on making herself as cute as possible. Fun right? She’s presented extremely well and is one of the game’s more fun characters. The second character is one that has become a personal favourite for me for many reasons, her name is Ladiva.

Ladiva is a part of a race of people called the Draph. The Draph are a humanoid, and pretty much human looking, race of people with their defining features being their large stature and bovine like horns and ears. This is important because male draph are usually much larger and more muscular than female draph (but its a horny anime game so who can say they’re surprised lol). Ladiva, as my discussion here makes obvious, is a trans woman belonging to these folk. Because of this, she’s both quite large, muscular(and more masculine presenting on the surface), and has rugged looking facial hair. The surprising thing about her presentation in comparison to how she looks, is that she’s presented incredibly well. despite her appearance being not as feminine as it could be (with Cagliostro even offering to make her a new totally feminine body only to have Ladiva refuse, stating that she should love her own body along with the rest of herself) she’s treated as what she is, a woman.

So why am I talking about this? Why am I putting my poorly put together thoughts on this tumblr post no one will read? Well, I am trans. I have felt a certain way about myself all my life that I’m sure most trans people can echoe so I won’t wast time waxing poetic about how I’ve always felt more feminine than I was “supposed” to be. My core purpose of this post comes from the fact that I am 6′2, nearly 300lbs of muscle/fat/body hair, and have had a full beard since I was 14. I am EXCEEDINGLY masculine, which has made my own internal struggle with my transness sort of difficult to accept. A sort of constant push and pull of wanting to just repress it all because I already pass as a man and wanting to work towards being who I know I actually am. Another factor is that I never felt truly comfortable with purely feminine pronouns. In highschool I went by a different name, and I used she/her pronouns and for a while it felt okay. But it was always just, okay. It never felt right on top of several people giving me some rather hurtful backlash for it and how it contrasted so much with my physical appearance. So I stowed it all away until about a year ago. I now have something that I didn’t have before, a truly wonderful and supportive group of adult friends who treat me like an adult as well and take me seriously. So through careful examination of how I felt i began trying new things to explore my identity. It began with me deciding I wanted to use they/them pronouns, this stuck and still feels like its the right thing for me along with the label of Nonbinary. However, slotting myself into this new label and finally feeling comfortable in an identity brought about new thoughts as well as new things to mull over in my head. Things like the fact that most nonbinary representation in media falls under the same category of a waifish AFAB person who presemts femininely if not androgynous, and how people like me are a vocal minority within the community itself even being excluded by a small portion of it. It was a new set of things to tackle and think about. But that aside, with them came the most important thing I asked myself, “am I comfortable with how I am now? Or do those thoughts I had all those years ago mean something?”

This question isnt easy. Gender is a strange subject and is different to everyone who experiences something with their identity, so I wont pretend like I have any definitive answers for anything because, there arent really any of those. The question for myself, boiled down to “Am I more comfortable identifying as transfeminine, or am I comfortable with just being nonbinary.” This question vexed me for a little while. It hurt to think about. A lifetime of bullying and being made to be ashamed of my body type and stature had made my confidence in myself rather lackluster. This made the decision more difficult. It would be easy to try and own a sense of pride in being a masculine presenting nonbinary person. There aren’t many of those in representation as I mentioned before, and at the time it made me feel nice to think that it was what I wanted. But those thoughts I had all those years ago did mean something, and thats not who I am. The answer I ultimately came to, was that I am trans, and want to present more feminine than masculine, because that’s who I know I am, and not just what I think would be easiest. So, to bring it all together, how the everloving fuck does this relate to a character from a gacha game? Well, when i first saw Ladiva I nearly wrote her off as a character that probably was used as a disrespectful joke on trans women and how they’re viewed. She’s not though. She has an entire montra of loving herself and others for who they are and owning every aspect of herself, including her body. She’s not a small lady, she’s a large/muscular wrestler who, in no mistake of words, still looks very masculine, right down to her facial hair. But none of that matters, not her appearance, not her beard, not her height, she’s still a woman and she’s seen as one by the others around her because, well, that’s what she is. She makes it known and others accept, or at the very least, respect it. It was something entirely new to see something like this in a form of popular media, and in turn it gave me an odd sense of self confidence in my own current appearance, even though I do intend on changing it through HRT and other means (exercise and other health related means). It meant a lot to me to see someone who was, in at least some way, like me who was loved by the community of the game she was in. And it still does. In conclusion, Ladiva is a very cool character, and her existing gave me a boost of confidence that helped lead me towards accepting things about myself that I had found it hard to previously. Go look into Granblue if you like games like that, there’s even a fighting game that came out not too long ago. Thanks for reading, if you did, this whole post is long and kind of dumb because I’m kind of dumb. But I wanted to put it somewhere. Have a nice day <3

#rambling #long post #ladiva #granblue fantasy #thanks granblue #kinda dumb just ignore me lol #im just talkin to myself #trans #guess ill throw that tag on there #shrug #nonbinary #gender stuff

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arofili · 3 years

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Three Houses of the Edain Edit Series: Appendix B

Continued from Appendix A. This section will contain information on the House of Hador.

~~~

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Appendix A: House of Bëor Appendix B: House of Hador (you are here!) Appendix C: House of Haleth, Drúedain

~~~

HOUSE OF HADOR

Note: With regard to name translations, I took inspiration from this article; specifically, I used some of the suggestions for name meanings of the early Hadorians and assigned them to elements in my Taliska glossary (see Appendix A).

~~~

Marach ft. Marach, Legen (OC), Malach Aradan, Imlach It is canon that while they were the third House to enter Beleriand, Marach’s people were originally in the lead; also canon is the attitude of the Green-elves toward them and Marach’s decision to remain in Estolad even though his son led many of his people further west. Since Imlach’s son Amlach is still in Estolad during the time of dissent, it is highly probable (though not explicitly stated afaik) that Imlach remained with his father. Everything else is headcanon. Also, Marach is trans because I said so <3

Imlach ft. Imlach, Amar (OC), Amlach The basic structure of this story is canon: Malach remained in Estolad; Amlach was a dissenter who was impersonated and became an elf-friend in his anger at the deception, entering into Maedhros’ service. I added a lot of details to flesh out the story, especially Amlach’s confusing night in the forest. I think Sauron (or one of his servants) stranded him in the woods and stole his likeness, though I doubt Amlach ever really figured out exactly what happened.

Malach Aradan ft. Malach Aradan, Zimrahin Meldis, Adanel, Magor Malach did enter Fingolfin’s service, and the basic details of his familial relationship are canon. Much of the rest of this is headcanon, however.

Magor ft. Magor, Amathal (OC), Hathol, Thevril (OC), Hador Lórindol We don’t know much about Magor or Hathol; the only canonical detail here is that Magor did move his people away from Hithlum and served no elf lord (though we don’t have details on why). Everything else is headcanon.

Hador Lórindol ft. Hador Lórindol, Gildis, Glóredhel, Galdor of Dor-lómin, Gundor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished, and everything about Gildis other than her name is headcanon. Gundor’s life is also mostly headcanon, though the manner of his death is canon; I’ll go into his story soon.

Gundor ft. Gundor, Angreneth (OC), Indor, Padrion (OC), Aerin, Peleg We don’t know anything about Gundor other than the manner of his death; we also don’t know how Aerin is related to Húrin, so I decided to expand on both of those unknowns with the same story. Aerin’s father is said to be Indor, who is elsewhere said to be the father of Peleg (who was himself the father of Tuor in an early draft), so I made him the son of Gundor. Since Peleg obviously can’t be Tuor’s father anymore, I killed him off at the Nírnaeth...just like Huor, oops. I think Brodda took Aerin to wife before Morwen disappeared, but I couldn’t figure out how to word that concisely, so I left it kind of vague/misleading in the caption. Oh well.

Galdor of Dor-lómin ft. Galdor of Dor-lómin, Hareth, Húrin Thalion, Huor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished to give Hareth a bit of personality. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo, used by Tuor in his song “The Horns of Ylmir.”

Húrin Thalion ft. Húrin Thalion, Morwen Eledhwen, Túrin Turambar, Beleg Cúthalion, Urwen Lalaith, Niënor Níniel Boy howdy this is a long one! It’s almost entirely canon, though I’ve added some embellishments here and there. Beleg is included because he and Túrin were definitely married (at least by elven standards); I’ll go more into that, and the details of Túrin’s time with the Gaurwaith, in a future edit, but for now I settled just using the gayest possible language. Same deal for his time in Nargothrond.

Huor ft. Huor, Rían, Tuor Eladar We don’t know that Galdor took an arrow specifically to the eye, but I thought it would be poetic if both he and Huor died in the same manner so I added that detail to the canon that Galdor was killed by an arrow. The rest of this is pretty much all canon, with some embellishments. Tuor’s story will continue in another edit.

Tuor Eladar ft. Tuor Eladar, Idril Celebrindal, Eärendil Ardamírë The meat of this story is canon, but I’ve added in some of my headcanons as well. I definitely embellished Annael’s departure from Mithrim to show my perspective on his decision to leave Tuor behind (I really do think he thought Tuor was dead or as good as it, and that as a leader he had the responsibility to keep the rest of his people safe). I’m a little foggy on why Tuor was already so obsessed with Gondolin when he met Gelmir and Arminas, because why would the Sindar of Mithrim be so excited about a Noldorin city? I guess maybe they had friends from way back when who went with Turgon? Or maybe they just wished they could be “safe” like the Gondolindrim were, idk. I was kind of vague there. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo; Yssion is a Sindarin name for Ossë (the other one is Gaerys, which I think sounds cooler but isn’t as close to a literal Sindarization as Yssion). The bit about Voronwë teaching Tuor Quenya on the road is headcanon, but I think it makes a lot of sense. Telpevontál is my Quenya translation of Celebrindal. I skimmed and skipped a lot of Tuor’s time in Gondolin, since I went over that in another edit. “The Horns of Ylmir” is a real song that Tolkien wrote (Adele McAllister has a cover of it); I added the bit about it triggering Idril’s foresight, though the song is absolutely foreshadowing no matter how you look at it. Eärendil did canonically get married the same year that Tuor and Idril left for Valinor; we don’t have much info on that otherwise, so I made it as bittersweet as possible. The bit about the Elessar is a lot of convoluted headcanon in my attempt to make sense of its 3 bajillion different origin stories. The name Ardamírë is prophetic because, you know, the whole Silmaril thing, but I liked the idea that Idril made the connection with the Elessar before the Silmaril came into the picture. All we know about Idril and Tuor’s fates in canon is that people ~believe~ they made it to Aman and that Tuor was counted as an elf, but that last bit never sat right with me since elsewhere it’s very clearly stated that the Gift of Men is not something that can be refused or taken away. The alternate legend is my own headcanon for what happened to them (I also think they had more peredhil kiddos); in my mind, the Valar let Tuor live the rest of his days in Valinor (all 500 years of them, I just think it’s poetic and connected to his grandson Elros’ fate) before he died peacefully and willingly, able to get closure with Idril before he went.

Storytellers ft. Eltas, Dírhaval Eltas is a character from the Book of Lost Tales, who tells Eriol the “Tale of Turambar.” Supposedly, he once lived in Hísilómë (Hithlum) and came to Tol Eressëa and the Cottage of Lost Play by the Straight Road. That story does not add up at all when you look at it through the lens of Tolkien’s later Legendarium, so I took the name and his origins in Hithlum and crafted an entirely different story for him. Dírhaval is canonically the poet who wrote the Narn i Chîn Húrin; he only wrote that one poem because he was killed at the Third Kinslaying before he could finish any of the other Great Tales like Narn i Leithian (The Lay of Leithian; from his Tolkien Gateway article I think that’s what he was working on after CoH? but I’m not totally sure. But Tolkien never finished the Leithian either, so I think it’s poetic to have Dírhaval do the same). Andvír was one of his sources in canon, I added in the others (Eltas, Nellas, Celebrimbor, Glírhuin), though it was conceivable (and canon, in Nellas’ case) that they knew Túrin enough to report his story (though we don’t know anything in canon about Nellas’ fate). These name translations are my own; I thought “sitting man” worked as a meaning for Dírhaval since I imagine that storytellers like him were known as folk who sat around a lot writing or telling tales.

Servants of Morwen ft. Morwen Eledhwen, Gethron, Grithnir, Ragnir the Blind, Sador Labadal Morwen sending her servants to talk to the elves is headcanon, and so is Gethron knowing some Sindarin, though I think that makes sense considering he did canonically travel across Beleriand and was the one who spoke to Thingol when they arrived in Doriath. We don’t know anything in canon about Ragnir except that he was blind. Sador’s story is canon, though I have added some embellishments here and there. Aside from Sador and Morwen, these name translations are all my own and extremely dubious, but I did my best.

Companions of Húrin ft. Húrin Thalion, Asgon, Ragnir the Outlaw, Dringoth (OC), Dimaethor (OC), Negenor (OC), Tondir (OC), Haedirn (OC), Orthelron (OC) This edit tells the beginning part of “The Wanderings of Húrin,” an unfinished manuscript that was cut from the final published Silmarillion. Húrin’s role in this tale is canon up through his departure from Brethil (that was where Tolkien left off); the way that he left his companions a final time is my headcanon. Asgon and Ragnir are the only names of his companions we know from canon; Asgon’s role as a former outlaw who had known Túrin when he returned to Dor-lómin and started a rebellion is canon, and Ragnir’s pessimism (asking to go home) and his relative youth is also from canon. Everything else about these outlaws is my headcanon, including my reasons for why they weren’t present at the Nírnaeth where literally all the able-bodied men of the House of Hador had perished (except for Húrin). Húrin did go to Nargothrond after Brethil, but I made up everything past that point. We know that there were some Edain at the Havens of Sirion (and presumably there were Men present in the War of Wrath that Elros mingled with before becoming their King), so I thought this could be a way for the remnant of the Haladin (and some of the House of Hador) to get there. I’ll go over the rest of “The Wanderings of Húrin” in future edits, when we get to the relevant Haladin characters.

Gaurwaith ft. Neithan, Beleg Cúthalion, Forweg, Andróg, Andvír, Algund, Ulrad, Orleg, Blodren This is largely a canon-compliant overview of Túrin’s life among the outlaws. The stories of Forweg and Andróg (and Beleg and Túrin/Neithan) are canon (though I did take that extra step and marry off Túrin and Beleg). Orleg’s story is canon, though it’s one that I had overlooked on my various readthroughs of Túrin’s Silm chapter & CoH. Algund and Ulrad’s stories are presented in a slightly tweaked/condensed form; Andvír’s origins as the son of Andróg (??? when did he have a son and why is it never mentioned in the main story???) are canon but (as expressed in parentheses) rather baffling, so I didn’t really emphasize him. Blodren is a character who isn’t in the later drafts of this story; he was an Easterling who was tortured by Morgoth because he “withstood Uldor the Accursed,” and eventually turned into a spy for Morgoth. (As with all Easterling names, his etymology is entirely made up.) He “served Túrin faithfully for two years” before fulfilling the role later taken up by Mîm and betraying the Gaurwaith to the orcs. He was killed by a “chance arrow in the dark” during the battle. I altered his story so that he wasn’t personally tortured by Morgoth and thus did not turn; since he was an Easterling and the rest of the Gaurwaith were Edain, I decided they probably treated him poorly, and threw in a bit of a friendship with Mîm as a nod to how Mîm took over his role. Also, I think Easterlings having pre-existing relationships with dwarves is a cool concept—especially since Bór’s people and Azaghâl’s people both served under Maedhros at the Nírnaeth, and could possibly have had the chance to interact!

~~~

CONTINUED IN APPENDIX C

#three houses of the edain #peoples of arda #house of hador #house of marach #estolad #ered wethrin #dor lomin #my meta #tefain nin #thote appendices

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divineknowing2021 · 3 years

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viewing guide

At its core, divine knowing is an exhibition about knowledge, power, and agency. It’s become a more common understanding that governments, institutions, and algorithms will manipulate the public with what information they frame as fact, fiction, or worthy of attention. Though I am early in researching this topic, I've only come across a minimal amount of mainstream discourse on how the initial threat limiting our scope of knowledge is a refusal to listen to ourselves.

In a world faced with so many threats - humans being violent toward each other, toward animals, toward the earth - it can be a bit unsettling to release the reins and allow ourselves to bear witness for a moment, as we slowly develop a deeper awareness of surrounding phenomena and happenings.

divine knowing includes works by formally trained and self-taught artists. A majority of the artists are bisexual, non-binary, or transgender. Regardless of degree-status, gender, or sexuality, these artists have tapped into the autonomous well of self-knowing. Their artworks speak to tactics for opening up to a more perceptive mode of being. They unravel dependencies on external sources for knowledge and what we might recognize, connect with, or achieve once we do.

The installation Femme Digitale by Sierra Bagish originates from a series she began in 2017 by converting photographs of women that were taken and distributed online without the subject’s consent into paintings. Her practice at the time was concerned with female abjection. Sourcing images found via simple keywords and phrases (e.g., passed out, passed out drunk) she swathes a mass-circulated canon of internet detritus that articulates and produces aggression towards women. With her paintings, she circumvents the images’ original framing mechanisms and subverts these proliferated images through a sincere and personal lens.

These paintings divulge the blurred space between idolatry and denigration these online photos occupy, asking whose desires these images fulfill and what their propagation reveals about the culture producing them. While Bagish's work contends with political motivations, she also remains keenly observant of form and the varying utilities of different media.

“I use the expressive potential of paint as a vehicle to intervene and challenge ideas about photography as a harbinger of the real and everyday.”

Chariot Birthday Wish is an artist and angel living in Brooklyn. They have seen The Matrix 28 times in 2 years and love horses. The tarot series included in divine knowing is their most intuitive project, something they revisit when unsure of what to work on next. The Major Arcana are composed of digital collages made from sourced images, the Minor Arcana are represented by short, poetic, interpretative texts about the cards. The series is played on shuffle, creating a unique reading for each viewer. This is a work in progress that will eventually finalize as a completed deck of digital collages available for purchase.

Chariot's work emerges from a constant consideration of apocalypse and connection. They reference technology in tandem with nature and a desire for unity. Underneath their work's surface conversation on beauty, care, and relationship exists an agenda to subtly evoke a conspiratorial anti-state mindset. Through a collective imagining of how good things could be and how good we want them to be, we might be able to reckon with how bad things are in contrast.

“I think about texting my friends from the middle of the woods...

Humans are a part of nature and we created these things. There's this Bjork quote where she says that "You can use pro tools and still be pagan." I'm really into the idea of using technology as a tool for divination and holy connection with nature. I imagine a scene; being in moss, it's absolute bliss, and then the connection of texting, sharing an image of moss with a friend, sharing that moment through cellular towers.”

The album "adding up" by thanks for coming is composed of songs Rachel Brown wrote during what they believe to be the most challenging year of their life. Rachel now looks back on this time in appreciation, recognizing they grew in ways they had never imagined. The entire year, they were committed to following their feelings to wherever it may lead.

“If I hadn't been open to following the almost indiscernible signs I was being sent, then I would have missed out on some of the most important moments in my life.”

Kimberly Consroe holds a Masters in Anthropology along with degrees in Archaeology, Literature, and History. She is currently a Research Analyst at the US Department of Commerce. Her artwork is a passionate escape from a hectic professional life and touches on themes of feminism and nature.

Her works begin as general ideas; their narrative complexity growing with the amount of time she invests in making each one. Her decoupage process starts with cutting hundreds, if not thousands, pieces of paper. The accumulation of clippings sourced from vintage and current-day magazines overlap to tell a story. In Domestication, Kimberly borrows submissive female figures from found images of Ryan Mcguinness's work and places them in a position of power.

“I believe intuition is associated with emotion and experience. It is wisdom and fear, empathy and outrage, distrust and familiarity. It is what we know before we know it. This relates to my artwork in that, from beginning to end, there is never one complete idea concerning the outcome: it is a personal journey. It emerges from an ephemeral narrative that coalesces into a definitive story.”

Anabelle DeClement is a photographer who primarily works with film and is interested in relationships as they exist within a frame. She is drawn to the mystery of the mundane. Intuition exists in her practice as a feeling of urgency and the decision to act on it --- a drive often used to describe street photography where the camera catches unexpected moments in an urban environment. Anabelle tends to photograph individuals with whom she has established personal relationships in a slow domestic setting. Her sense of urgency lies in capturing moments of peak intimacy, preserving a memory's informal beauty that otherwise may have been forgotten or overlooked.

Gla5 is a visual artist, poet, bookmaker, production designer, and educator. Play is at the center of their practice. Their process is an experimental one embracing impulse and adventure. Their compositions are informed by relationships among bodies of varying shapes, materials, and densities. Interests that come up in their work include a discernment between symbols and non-symbols, dream states, the portrayal of energy in action, and a fixation on forms such as cups, tables, and spoons.

“I generally think of my work as depicting a layer of life that exists underneath what we see in our everyday lives.”

Gladys Harlow is a sound-based performance artist, comedian, and activist who experiments with found objects, contact mics, textures, range, analog formats, present moments, and emotions. Through raw, avant-garbage performance art, they aim to breakdown societal barriers, abolish oppressive systems, and empower communities. Gladys was born in Queens, NY, raised in Miami, FL and has deep roots in Venezuela. Currently haunting in Philadelphia, PA, Gladys is a founding member of Sound Museum Collective. SMC holds space for reconstructing our relationships to sounds by creating a platform for women, nonbinary, and trans sound artists and engineers.

Street Rat is a visceral exploration of the mysteries of life. Attempting to bring heavy concepts to your reality, it is the eye on the ground that sees and translates all intersecting issues as they merge, explode, dissolve, and implode. Street Rat is Gladys Harlow's way of comprehending, coping, feeling, taking action, disrupting the status quo, and rebuilding our path.

All Power To The People originated as a recorded performance intended to demystify sound by revealing the tools, wires, and movements used to create it. All Power To The People evolved into an installation conceived specifically for this exhibition. The installation includes a theremin and oscillator built by Gladys, a tarot deck they made by hand, and books from the artist's personal collection, amongst other elements. Gladys has created a structure of comfort and exploration. They welcome all visitors of divine knowing to play with the instrument, flip freely through the books, and pull a tarot card to take home.

Phoebe Hart is an experimental animator and filmmaker. A majority of her work is centered around mental illness and the line between dreams and reality. Merry Go Round is a sculptural zoetrope that changes in shape and color as it spins. Its form is inspired by nature and its color by the circus. The video’s sound was produced by Hayden Waggener. It consists of reverbing chimes which are in rhythm with the stop animation’s movement; both oscillate seamlessly between serene and anxious states.

“I often don't plan the sculptures or objects I am fabricating, there is a vague image in my mind, and my hands take care of the rest. I find that sometimes overthinking is what can get me and other artists stuck. If I just abandon my judgments and ego, I can really let go and create work that feels like it came inherently from me.”

Powerviolets is the solo project of multi-instrumentalist Violet Hetson who is currently based in New York. After experiencing several false starts while bouncing coast to coast, recording and performing with several lineups, Hetson has finally released her debut album. ~No Boys~ namesake is a sarcastic sign she hung on her suburban CT teenage bedroom door. Violet Hetson grew up primarily listening to punk and hardcore. She parses elements of these genres with influences from bands such as X and Suburban Lawns. ~No Boys~ takes a softer, melodic approach to Hetson's punk roots. Powerviolets' music is linear, unconventional, dark, and airy with a sense of humor.

Mary Hunt is a fiber artist specializing in chain stitch embroidery. This traditional form of embroidery uses vintage machinery and thick thread to create fibrous art and embellishments. They use an approach called "thread painting," which requires each stitch to be hand guided by the turn of a knob underneath the table while the speed of movement is controlled by a foot pedal. Chainstitch works can take anywhere from 20 minutes to 200 hours, encouraging a slow and thoughtful process. Mary uses a Cornely A machine, made in Paris more than 100 years ago.

“I think we are sent messages and guidance constantly. Our intuition is simply our ability to clear the path for those messages. The largest obstacles on my artistic path are usually self-imposed negative thoughts. I simply do things to take care of my spiritual well-being, first and foremost, and the rest follows. If I can trust the universe, trust the process, then I am much more likely to listen to the messages sent my way.”

Jes the Jem is a multi-media artist working with acrylic, watercolor, mold clay, and whatever else she can get her hands on. She uses vivid color to bring joy into the lives of those who view her art. Jes the Jem has experienced a great deal of pain in her life. Through that unique displeasure, she has been gifted a nuanced perspective. She aims to energize the present while paying homage to the past events that shape us. In her art, her life, and her interpersonal relationships, Jes the Jem appreciates the gift of all of life's experiences.

“The pursuit of happiness and understanding is instinct.”

Pamela Kivi pieces together visual scraps she has saved over the years, choosing to fuse them at whatever present moment she sees fit. Her work reflects on creative mania, fleeting emotions, and memories. Pamela's collages are a compilation of unexpected elements that include: old notebooks, cut-outs, text messages or Facebook message conversations, nostalgic cellphone photos, and visual materials she has chosen to hold onto. She prints out, cuts up, scans, edits, repeats. Pamela's artistic practice is deeply personal. It is a submittal to the process of dusting things off until a reflection can be seen, all enacted without an attachment to the end result.

“I rely on intuition and whatever state of mind I am in to whisk me away. In life, I often confuse intuition with anxiety- when it comes to creative work, I can decipher the two.”

Through sobriety, Kendall Kolenik's focus has shifted toward self-discovery and shedding old adaptive patterns, a process that led her to a passion for helping others heal themselves too. In autumn, she will begin her Masters in Social Work at Columbia University.

“I love how when I'm painting my self-doubt becomes so apparent. Painting shows me exactly where my doubt lies, which guides me towards overriding it. When I paint something and lean into doubt, I don't like what comes out. When I take note of the resistance and go with my gut more freely, I love it. This reminds me of my yoga practice. What you practice on the mat is a metaphor for how you show up in life. By breathing through the uncomfortable poses on the mat, you learn to breathe through challenging life moments.

I think we all grow up learning to numb and edit ourselves. We are taught not to trust our feelings; we are told to look outside ourselves for answers when we already have a perfectly good compass within. Painting is an archway back to that for me - rediscovering self-reliance and faith in my first instinct. When I'm creating these rainbow squares, sometimes I move so fast it's like something else is carrying me. I sort of leave myself and enter a trance. Like how you don't have to tell the heart to beat or the lungs to breathe - thinking goes away and I can get so close to my knowing that I become it. I love how art allows me to access my love for ambiguity, interpretation, and an interpretation that feels closer to Truth. I find no greater purpose than guiding people back to safety and reconnecting them with themselves. The most important thing to ever happen in my life was when I stopped trying to deny my reality - listening to your intuition can be like a freefall - no one but you can ever know or tell you - it is a deep trust without any outside proof.”

Lucille Loffredo is a music school dropout, Jewish trans lesbian, and veterinary assistant doing her best to make sure each day is better than the last. Lucille tries to find the music rather than make it. She lets it tell her what it wants to do and what it wants to be. The Wandering EP was in part written as a way to come out to herself. She asks all listeners to please be gentle.

“Change will come, and it will be good. You are who you think you are, no matter how far it seems.”

Whitney Lorenze generally works without reference, making thick, graphic pictures with precise forms conceived almost entirely from her imagination. Images like a slowly rolling car crackling out of a driveway, afternoon sun rays shining through a cloud of humidity, or headlights throwing a lined shadow across a black bedroom inspire her.

“As it concerns my own practice and the creation of artworks generally, I would define intuition as the ability to succumb to some primal creative impulse. Of course, this implies also the ability to resist the temptations of producing a calculated or contrived output.”

Ellie Mesa began teaching herself to paint at the age of 15, exploring landscapes and portraiture. Her work has evolved into a style of painting influenced by surrealism where teddy bears will morph into demons and vice versa. Her work speaks to cuteness, the grotesque, and mystical beings. The painting "Kali" is an homage to the Hindu goddess of creation, destruction, life and death. This was Ellie's first painting after becoming sober and is an expression of the aforementioned forces in her own life. Through meditations on Kali, Elli has been able to find beauty in the cycle of love and loss.

“To me, intuition means doing the thing that feels right whether or not it's what you want it to be. When I'm painting or making a sculpture, I give myself the freedom to follow what feels right, even if that means starting over or changing it completely. I allow the piece to present itself to me instead of forcing something that doesn't want to be.”

Mari Ogihara is a sculptor exploring duality, resilience, beauty, and serenity as experienced through the female gaze. Her work is informed by the duality of womanhood and the contradictions of femininity. In particular, the multitude of roles we inhabit as friend, lover, sister, and mother and their complex associations to the feminine perspective.

“Intuition is an innate, immediate reaction to an experience. While making art, I try to balance intuition, logic, and craftsmanship.”

All Of Me Is War by Ames Valaitis addresses the subconscious rifts society initiates between women, estranging them from each other and themselves.

“It is an unspoken, quick, and quiet battle within me as the feeling of intuition purely, and when I am making a drawing. I am immediately drawn to poses and subject matter that reflect the emotion inside myself, whether it is loud or under the surface. If a line or figure doesn't move me, after working on it for a few minutes, I get rid of it. If something looks right to me immediately, I keep it; nurture it. I try to let go of my vision, let my instinct take hold. I mirror this in my life as I get older, choosing who and what to put my energy into. The feeling is rarely wrong; I'd say we all know inherently when it is time to continue or tap out.”

Chardel Williams is a self-taught artist currently living in Bridgeport. Her biggest inspiration is her birthplace of Jamaica. Chardel views painting as a method for blocking out chaos. Her attraction to the medium springs from its coalescence of freedom, meditative qualities, and the connection it engenders. rears.

“Intuition for me is going where my art flows. I implement it in my practice by simply creating space and time to listen. There are times when what I'm painting is done in everyone else's eyes, but I just keep picking at it. Sometimes I would stop painting a piece and go months without touching it. Then, out of nowhere, be obsessed with finishing. I used to get frustrated with that process, but now I go with it. I stopped calling it a block and just flow with it. I listen because my work talks.”

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queerchoicesblog · 3 years

Note

Did I check your blog several times awaiting the new chapter ? And did I re-read the whole serie, willing to get more and more of your story and your wonderful writing ? You can bet I did ! I've started coming to your blog because of Choices' fanfictions, stayed for the poetic flow of your words and while it's a wonder to see you thrive in those orignal stories of yours (I'm partial to the Belle Epoque one, as a French woman myself) I'm excited to see those beautiful Storyscape characters 1/

At last, here I am, sweet nonny 😊

First of all, you have no idea how your messages made me happy: THANK YOU! 😊❤

I truly loved Storyscape and miss it so much: how nice it would have been to cheer us up or at least distract us during these trying months.

And you're French! So nice, your language is utterly gorgeous! I can only hope I'm not butchering it in my fics, my French is bad sadly 😔

As for your questions, Surviving the Titanic, and what title Zetta would have chosen if she had to. Well, as you said, going through the traumatic experience even if in fiction must be hard for her yet she agrees all the same, setting it as the beginning of her renaissance. Judging by the plot of the original book, the whole idea of the movie seems to come from Richard: he's ambitious, young. I believe he genuinely cares for Zetta but it sounds like a lifetime occasion screaming easy success. So the title is simple, straight to the point, in line with the titles of the pictures back then.

I like to think that Zetta's agreement came after much consideration: is it the right thing to do? Since the story of the picture is so clearly inspired to Adele and Hileni, I headcanon Zetta eventually agreed on the project and taking charge of the script. That way to her eyes she could make a proper compromise: avoiding mere commercial exploitation of the tragedy and turning it into an homage to Adele. Also, she's in the business for too long to ignore that a story like that was all the audience could get of that night. Probably, if she could have picked the title, she would have added a bit of poetry and focused on the main characters? Surviving the Titanic sounds a bit impersonal...

As for Zetta's six months long silence. Yeah, at first, it didn't make sense to me even if I get the authors probably looked for the dramatic suspense between the arrival and the party: it seems to be a common feature for all the LIs. I tried to read through the lines of the movie party dialogue.

This seems to be the source of Zetta's torment. She stated that she had tried to put her feelings down into words for Adele but she never came up with a good answer.

When I read it the first time, I thought she wanted to break up with us but when I picked the "we should end things" option, she was quite upset and hurt. So it's not what she meant all along, I think. After that playthrough, her line sounds more like a squeal of pain. She wants to be with Adele, she loves her but must marry Richard to save her career so what she can offer to a free spirit like Miss Carrem? I think she feels guilty, desperately looking for a way not to lose Adele but not knowing why.

I will answer about dear Lawrence in the next bunch of asks 😉

As for your consideration over living as a member of the lgbtq community, I must say I have a soft spot for stories (either real or fictional) of wlw/mlm/trans people back in the old days or from a different era when they probably felt even lonelier or more hopeless and self doubting than us. I wish I could hug them tight and assure them that they are not alone and unloved/unlovable as they thought. And that decades, centuries after we live better lives: we can marry each other in many countries unlike back them, governments can promulgate laws to protect people against homophobic/biphobic/transphobic violence. Even if yes, recent events like the one Laverne denounced on her social media show, there is room for improvement as we still can't hold hands with a partner or exchanging PDAs with a partner or simply walk in the street without a care.

But yes, I hope it brings them some joy to see the progresses we have made through the years as a community and how we keep fighting all over the world for our rights and our right to be, to love, to exist like any other human being 🏳️‍🌈

#long post #lovely nonny #zetta x adele series

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prism-sakura-s · 5 years

Text

Animal Skins AU

Finally have the courage to make my own au and release it into the world so here it is: an animal brides au inspired by overly sarcastic production’s latest video and cosmo sheldrake’s “the moss”

(Warning: murder/hunting mention, death mention, gun mention, lmk if there’s anymore)

Setting: a mythical world similar to ours, but quite different because I didn’t want to worry about where specific animals lived. so basically the only differences is where all the animals live

Characters

Logan Tala

species: human

sexuality: aromantic asexual

gender: male

raised in an orphanage run by nuns

graduate of The Saint Teresa College, also run by the nuns he grew up with

having been brought up in a catholic school with a mostly conservative staff, it wasn’t until he met Sister Tanya, a closeted lesbian asexual nun, that he started to accept his sexuality.

loves nature and space, but is strangely indifferent to robots, stating that “The truly compelling kind of science, is the kind that was not created by mankind, and therefore can never truly be understood.”

he’s poetic like that

while very intelligent and appreciative of the goals and services the educational system provides, he also (rather surreptitiously) absolutely hates it due to its outdated method of shoving information down students’ throats without giving any real thought or care to keep the pupils interested. not to mention the fact that homework and projects can keep a student up late at various hours, thus throwing off their circadian system and not letting them get the required time for sleep

is the kind to scroll wikipedia for hours

Patton Uycoco

species: human

sexuality: bisexual

gender: demiboy

went to the same school as Logan, and is his closest friend

also struggled with their sexuality as well as their gender, not really experiencing dysphoria but feeling like something was off

was introduced to Sr. Tanya by Logan, who helped them come to terms with their orientations

loved animals, but mostly just mammals, birds, and cute fishes. anything creepy-looking or said to be dangerous (snakes, spiders, nautilus, sharks, octopuses are a bit in-between, etc.) were squicks for them

cartoon and musical lover!

loved Dodie (yes she exists in this au because I can and also she’s basically a goddess and deserves to be in every universe) as well as some other mainstream artists (still loves 1D, cried when they broke up)

Roman Sanders

species: therianthropic (deer)

sexuality: gay af

gender: male

brother of Remus Sanders

ADHD

half therianthropic, half human. his mother was therianthropic, a deer capable of turning into a human. she fell in love with roman’s father and married him, giving birth to Roman and Remus shortly after. however, only Roman inherited her (technically) shape-shifting powers

his mother was killed by a hunter when he was 15

was homeschooled by both his parents along with his brother, but after his mother died was educated by his father only

not incredibly fond that his “spectacular skill” consists of turning into a deer. often wishes he could be something more “brave and dangerous”, like a lion or bear. has even occasionally said he’d settle on a horse, because “at least those beautiful creatures can knock a b*tch out”

not that he disrespects his mother, of course

Roman really misses her

loves his brother, but is also incredibly creeped out by him so he never admits it

loud

loves (hyperfixates on) musicals, the occasional video game, cartoons, mythology, greek and latin history and architecture, and literature

met Logan at a history convention, swapped numbers and eventually became close friends. was introduced to Patton shortly after and bonded over their shared love of cartoons and musicals

Virgil Noctis

species: therianthropic (leopard cat)

sexuality: panromantic, asexual

gender: genderfluid

hard of hearing due to a gunshot they heard when they were very young

ran away in a panic and ended up at a small cottage owned by a sweet farmer lesbian couple

was adopted by the lesbians and grew up under their care

attended Greenfield for grade school and high school, but never attended college as they didn’t have enough money to afford it

very very anxious, especially about their disability

(they can’t hear people, though they can read lips well, what if they react wrong? they can’t even hunt properly, what if they get eaten in the wild?)

they can, in fact, communicate and hunt well :)

often uses their phone to communicate with others

was very nervous when they came out to their moms about being genderfluid, and while their parents were confused at first, they eventually learned to understand and accept their child’s gender orientation

needs to have headphones or loud speakers in order to listen to music

likes emo music (mcr, tøp, p!atd etc. because those exist here too yay) as well as dodie, tessa violet, orla gartland and lauren aquilina

(plus billie eilish of course)

very interested in conspiracies

met Roman while hanging out in the woods

(they saw him turn into a human and freaked out before remembering that it was a thing some people did sometimes and oh yeah they are one of those people)

Remus Sanders

species: human

sexuality: aro-spec, a-spec (questioning)

gender: trans male

twin brother of Roman Sanders

actually a bit jealous of Roman for getting all the cool powers, but still loves him nonetheless

also loves annoying his baby brother to death

(yes, baby brother, albeit by an hour)

also misses his mother a lot, though he’ll admit he was closer to his father

dysphoric, always tries his best to feel like a guy though he hates polo shirts or... anything with a folded collar

loves creepy/scary animals, movies, games etc.

watches conspiracy videos on the daily like Virgil, but likes to focus more on paranormal activities

speaking of Virgil, when they first met he did creep them out a bit, but discovered they both watched conspiracy videos and bonded from there

met the others through Roman

Dante

species: therianthropic (timber rattlesnake)

sexuality: queer

gender: agender

human contact whats that

yeah so basically they only learned how to speak from the passing hunters and hikers in the forest as well as the other therianthropic animals

sometimes they would obtain and collect books (doesn’t matter where from and how, not important) and eventually taught themselves how to read

kinda sick of being the kind of animal that humans screamed at and ran away from upon seeing them

and if it wasn’t that, it would normally involve being captured

he always escapes of course

the first time they were handled by a human without malicious intent was by a 16-year old Remus, who tripped over them while on a leisurely stroll to find some tarantulas

Remus brought them home and housed them kindly

he was the first person Dante revealed his human self to

long story short Dante moved in with the Sanders family and perfected their English during their stay there

also Roman screamed like a little girl upon seeing Dante for the first time

he denies it’s ever happened

Remy Diaz-Picani

species: human

sexuality: gay

gender: deminonbinary

a nature photographer

married to Emile

Emile Diaz-Picani

species: human

sexuality: gay, aceflux

gender: male

a zoologist, works in tandem with Remy

married to Remy

Anyways, that’s all I got for now, I might add some stuff later on. Also if I made any mistakes regarding Virgil’s disability or the like, please let me know, this would be my first attempt at writing disabilities in a (hopefully) pretty big project like this.

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years

Text

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 5

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked

Notes (I guess): Welcome to ‘I’m bad at describing stuff’, part 1. This chapter was planned out way in advance, before I wrote the prologue even, and yet it gave me a lot of trouble because I had no idea how to wrap it up. So I hope that, for what it’s worth, this is a good one.

As always, thanks @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original suggestion, to @whatwashernameagain for her fantastic creation on which this fic is based, and to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual and @winglessnymph (hey Nymph look you’re on this list now!) for dealing with my crazy ideas. And a particularly special thanks to Miranda, again, for her poetic additions. She is the absolute best.

A quick note to any of you who are underage or have never been in such a situation (aka a massive fucking party) before - do not do anything that happens in this chapter. Please, drink responsibly, or don’t drink at all if you don’t want to. I made my mistakes so that you won’t have to. Do not do anything that happens in this chapter, watch your drinks, you know the drill. I can’t stress this enough.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemygaydad

(If you want to be tagged or removed, please let me know! Preferably via notes/reblogs, I have bad memory, but… you do you.)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter doesn’t have as much. Also mentions and slight talk of dysphoria, drinking, drug use, mentions of blood (aka periods, don’t worry, it’s periods)... yeah, that’s all I remember for now...

—————

It was around one a.m. when Remy was ready to crash, and Emile was nowhere to be seen.

Remy had just the slightest idea of what happened.

——

22:38, Thursday, October 31st, 2002

"I really would've rather gone trick or treating."

"I know, boo, but you look great and my friend is gonna love you. I promise."

There were several wrong things about tonight where it came to Emile, and Remy knew all of them. One, he was sensitive to extreme temperature changes, as he told him over hot chocolate just the other day. But as things were, his costume exposed his midriff and he was snuggling up to Remy before they even left the building. Two, too many people made him incredibly uncomfortable. Strangers only intensified that feeling. And three… he couldn't bring his bunny with him to help with problems one and two.

This was building up to be a disaster.

"Well, isn't this party just so fun," India stated the moment she found Remy. "I'm surprised nobody is a Playboy bunny this year. Well… here's to hoping things will get more interesting later."

"It's totally fine, sweetie—"

"She said it's boring, can we go now?"

"Yeah, you two are better off coming back in about an hour, but you're already here. It'll be a waste of time. You're Emile, right?"

"Yeah, hello!"

"Nice to finally meet you. I'm India." Her smile was as bright as the lights reflecting off her Wonder Woman costume. "So how was Murder week? Did anyone strip?"

"No, not at Weld. What about you?"

"I'm not allowed to strip for immunity anymore, not after what happened two years ago, but… we had a couple of people walking around in towels."

Chris was there, piling red solo cups into pyramids. India and Emile kept talking about Murder and strategies for later years, and Chris was there.

He was… so beautiful. His skin reminded him of the sand on a beach. Warm and inviting beckoning him in. Caramel never looked so good on anyone else. The black hair a stark contrast. Dangerous but looked soft. Like if you touched it it would feel like cotton candy. What he wouldn't give to bury his hands into it—

Yeah... was there any way for someone to get drunk without actually drinking...?

"You're staring for far too long without actually doing anything," Remy heard someone whisper in his ear - Emile? - "go talk to him!"

"Are you trying to play fairy godparent with me?"

"No, but you're worrying me. And it's always best to talk to someone you like. How would they know you like them if you don't tell them?" Emile looked incredibly uncomfortable, even more so than before. "It's too cold…"

"Sorry, angel, don't got a sweatshirt for you." Emile huffed. "Why aren't you with India?"

"She's bringing me Fanta. Did I tell you that my sister is coming over from Evanston next—"

Definitely Emile.

"Yes, you told me. Five times already."

"Oh. Oops. But… really. He would never know you like him unless you tell him, and now is as good a time to tell him as any. And if it fails, I'm here and you can always come back here and we'll go back to your suite and order pizza!"

"I am so not into discussing Fahrenheit 451 with those assholes over there," India declared as she joined them. "What… are we waiting for?"

"Remy wants to talk to his crush but he's not doing anything about it."

"Stop saying that…"

Remy went anyway.

——

"And that's why I think that…"

Remy spaced in and out of the conversation with Chris. It was just… boring. He was talking about Blade Runner for twenty-five minutes out of the forty-five they've been talking, it was almost ridiculous. But he stayed, because… maybe he could… change the topic? Maybe? There was a certain number of times one could say radical or awesome before it turns into a chore, after all.

If only he'd shut up about his fucking crush on Harrison Ford…

"Have you ever seen Pulp Fiction?" Chris choked on his soda. "What?"

"You saw Pulp Fiction? I'd never think someone like you would—"

"Someone like me? And that's what, baby?"

"Just… you seem like the type of person who watches Beverly Hills 90210 or Gilmore Girls."

"And what stops me from liking both 90210 and Pulp Fiction?"

The conversation was incredibly boring, and Remy couldn't help it. He didn't even like 90210. Chris was… well, he was boring, and that wasn't part of the plan at all.

But… he didn't want to fuck this up at all. So… he'd put up with the boring. Okay. He can do it.

And he zoned out on him again…

"...me for a second." And then Chris was gone. What did Remy just get himself into… it wasn't what he imagined it would be like.

Huh. Maybe that's why you should never meet your heroes. Or… something like that.

And then someone jumped on his back.

"Did you tell him yet?" Emile didn't seem quite alright. "India let me out of her sight ‘cause I wanted to ask you, and—"

"Did you drink, sweetheart?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Emile didn't look him in the eyes. Nothing new, really. But Remy was still worried. "Well…"

"Emile, you're sixteen."

"Remy, you're eighteen. Stating obvious facts can be a two-player game, you know!" He sighed and hugged Remy again, only… not quite. "You wanna dance with me? Please?"

His big blue eyes were open so wide and he pouted. He actually pouted.

Remy wanted to kiss him.

No, wait, what?!

"Cutie, we can't dance right now. You look sick."

"I'm totally not sick! It's prolly just the makeup!"

"...no, you definitely look—"

"Sorry about that." Oh, great. Chris was back. "Hey, I'm Chris."

"I'm Emile, it's very nice to meet you, is this Fanta?"

"Yes, but—"

"Good, thanks."

Remy was convinced he was going to regret that night. His crush was one of the most boring people he knew (he might not be, but at least right now he was, and they did talk for almost an hour and that definitely means something), he couldn't find India anywhere, and Emile—

"That Fanta tastes funny… is that vodka?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"What did you put in that cup?" Remy whispered angrily at the upperclassman.

"Vodka. I swear it was only vodka."

——

00:17, Friday, November 1st

No, it wasn't only vodka. But Remy couldn't care at this point.

Yeah… that sounds awful. Of course he cared, but… yeah, he had a bit to drink. And he was making out with Chris in the corner, so it wasn't exactly his biggest concern at the moment.

"Your makeup's coming off," Chris laughed between kisses.

There was a slight issue with this situation. Chris kept trying to… touch. Which was usually a problem, thanks to his body being… well, his body, but today was even worse. For today was day two of shark week. And, like, it wasn't enough that he was trying to get to Remy's not yet existing dick, which even under sober circumstances Remy probably wouldn't have let him, but it was happening during the worst possible time to do that.

There was no better time in history for Remy to feel the dysphoria kicking in, and kicking in hard. Yeah. Look at how much fun he was having.

"Okay, lover boy, time to fuck out of here," someone screamed in his ear a couple minutes later. And forcefully pulled him away from Chris.

India.

"What do you want?"

"I get that you don't have much experience with booze, Skellington, but your friend is missing and I'm not going to look for him alone. And I can see you're enjoying yourself very much."

"Fine… oh. Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit. Now you gotta get fixing to get going, anything we gotta do before we leave?"

"...stop at the bathroom."

It was just changing a pad. He could manage going to the girls' room just for that. He could manage that—

"Make it quick, though. Any second we don't look for him is a second gone to waste."

"Alright. Just don't scream at me."

"I ain't screaming!"

It was just changing a pad. It couldn't take longer than two minutes. Just go in there, change it, get out, and—

Yeah… this was going to be tough.

——

It was around one a.m. when Remy was ready to crash, and Emile was still nowhere to be seen.

Remy had just the slightest idea of what happened.

India only called it a night because she had early classes that day, and Remy tried to reach Emile's cell for a while before giving up and falling asleep around three.

It didn't feel right. He could be dead… Remy should've done more…

And then his phone started ringing. At around nine, his phone started ringing.

"Yes, hello, what—"

"Remy… everything hurts…" Emile was crying. Shit. No, no, that was—

"Where the fuck are you?"

"I don't know… but everything hurts. And…"

"Are you still on campus, sweetie?"

"I… I hope so."

"Can you tell me where you are, what's around you? I'm coming to get you."

Remy started looking for a jacket, still half asleep, as Emile kept talking. He described something that sounded a lot like Harvard Law to Remy. (Well, actually, more like what he imagined Harvard Law looked like after watching Legally Blonde fifteen times).

"Do you mind if I sing?" Emile was calming down. Great. He was still—

"No, not at all. But… one song, alright? I still need you to tell me where you are."

"Alright."

As Remy ran outside, still putting his shoes on, phone glued to his shoulder and ear, he heard a thing he never thought was possible —

"Whatever happened to Saturday night? When you dressed up sharp and you felt alright?"

"...are you crying while singing Hot Patootie?"

"It was the first song I could think of!"

Remy found Emile sitting on a bench (like when Elle met Emmett in Legally Blonde, his little voice told him), his costume still intact but incredibly messed up, the wig thrown to the side. He looked… sick.

There was no real way to describe what he looked like other than sick. And Remy felt guilty.

"Hey, hot patootie, where's your glasses?" Emile shivered, pulling his shoulders.

"I left them in my room... I had… I had lenses on last night… and then I lost them. I can't see much…"

"Do you remember anything?" Remy sat down next to Emile, holding him tight. He was freezing. It was…

Remy felt like he failed. It was the worst feeling. He failed his best friend.

"No. I know I drank… I know this… this guy, he was really nice, he asked me if I wanted to eat something… I don't remember more than that…"

"Sweetie… it'll be alright. I promise." He couldn't exactly promise. Not at this state, anyway. "Let's take you to the clinic, okay?"

Remy had to help Emile walk. Support him on the way, sometimes carry him bridal style, all for about two minutes of walking. But… he was clearly not okay. Remy wasn't going to just… not help him, this was his best friend on campus...

It was only when they made it to the incredibly familiar (at least to Remy) clinical wing that Remy realized he didn't even wear a bra. And only because Emile told him "if any of the people in the clinic call you miss, because your boobs are out, I'm gonna punch them."

He was not going to let Emile punch anyone, but that was not his main concern at the moment.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: mentions of blood (aka periods)#tw: alcohol and drug use #slight angst in this one chapter #well kinda #tw: implied rape

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crstapor · 3 years

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Why I am so Cynical

“I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” - Zarathustra

Part 3

Let me stop shouting - sometimes I get carried away. Because it needs be clearly stated that my perspective on the matter at hand is not based solely on 'personal' experience (of course one can never deny the importance such datum possess!) but also 'phenomenological' experience, which is, clearly, a different animal altogether. That this menagerie has informed my thought will surprise no-one who's ever tried it; thinking, I mean. How else, if one is being as honest as possible, can one arrive at any conclusions whatsoever? While the first part of this essay waxed rather subjectively poetic, allow me to offer this third as a sort of empirical respite. Facts, good reader, let me proffer facts to further found my cynicism most severe.

But let me first define the scope these facts will express. The working title for this missive to minds who want to think was 'A Polemic against American Modernity'. Allowing that my interests, here, lie not north to Canada or south of Texas, the parameters of this diatribe should be well understood by all with even meager cartographic skill.

Superficial perhaps I've structured these facts into three distinct phenomena; the surface, the self, and the symbol. I do so not to make any sweeping ontologic distinctions or assertions, rather, to help me think through them. System-building is not my purpose here - system-analysis is. The facets of modern America culture were well in place before I came along, and, unless I'm completely mistaken, I've done little to add to or enhance any of them. Apart from the clear truth of my having lived with and through them the vast majority of my mortal years. This 'truth', my citizenship and biography, allow me credence to present what follows as 'fact'; though of course it's still just one man's opinion!

Knowledge!

The Surface

Politics. Democracy. American Exceptionalism. Yeah right. So, help me out here, we have a great democracy because we vote for other people to get to vote on who actually becomes leader? Unless of course nine robes get that special privilege - based off of their admitted political preferences naturally! - like back in 2000. How the legislature is just a club for the privileged, connected, and the rich (which is almost redundant). How once 'money' became speech only those with 'money' had speech. The Founders are grave-rolling and Mussolini's having a laugh - fascism much? Let's remember Benito's definition of the term; which is when State and corporate interests converge (more or less). And we find that just about everywhere we look up in DC these days. Apparently we have the 'political will' to help banks, big oil, agribusiness, gun manufacturers, and all the other consolidated purveyors of terror, hate or control (sure, tobacco had to be sacrificed - occasionally you must throw the peasants a bone to keep the lie alive) but can't find the time to help out 'we the people': see continuing cuts to social programs; see the limp-dick governmental response to the housing/mortgage crisis of 2008 - ?; see the student loan pyramid scheme; see a 'minimum' wage that consistently fails to keep up with inflation; see a 'healthcare' plan that mandates private citizens purchase a product from non-governmental, for-profit companies - and taxes them if they don't; see how prohibition (here considered against natural, earth-born narcotics) continues to fuel a for-profit prison system and further erodes race relations; see how the gravest existential threat to the species (climate change, for realz) is perpetually laughed off and ignored; see how we lecture others on human rights while keeping Gitmo open and denying homosexuals equal protection under the law; see how NASA's (quite possibly, from a historical perspective, the greatest achievement of our modern society) budget keeps getting gutted while their priorities are schizophrenically re-ordered with each administration; see how children keep slaughtering children with weapons of war and no one can even attempt to do anything about it; see how voter ID laws are passed like Jim Crow; see how the innate sovereignty of the nation has been torn asunder now that private corporations can be 'to big to fail'; see an ever increasingly militarized police force; see the constitutional absurdity of 'free speech zones'; see democratic campaigns where one guy runs but once elected that guy's nowhere to be found and in his place is a carbon copy of the last guy who held the office ... See how our 'political parties' are two sides of the same coin ... But let's stop here and consider that last point in greater depth, as it is so vital to any understanding of 'democracy' in America ... Republicans, Democrats; Jefferson has been famously remembered, quoted, as saying once our (more properly his) democracy devolved into a two party system it would be a democracy no more. And I've certainly been a witness to that in my life. Sure, America isn't a dictatorship, but it sure as hell isn't the country Jefferson helped forge. And the main reason for that, to my eyes, seems to be the consolidation of power in the hands of politicians with more in common with each other than their constituents. R or D you can bet they're there for Wall Street or the military-information-industrial complex. Anyone else? Good luck with that citizen ... And while they're both complicit in gutting the middle class, let's take a moment to reflect, ethically, on that matter ... You can't blame the snake for its venom, but you can sure as hell blame the snake-oil salesman for shilling his bullshit wares. In case that metaphor wasn't clear enough allow me to decode it for you:

R = snake. D = snake-oil salesman.

Switching gears - though not by much! - let's shift to the state of modern American entertainment. To the uninitiated possibly a trite transition, any who've watched politics lately will surely see the connection. And just as our politics smell rotten, the main complaint with what passes as entertainment these days is how bad it tastes. Yes, it's a question of taste, as it seems most Americans have none. From 'reality TV' (which is surely anything but - though let's not forget Barnum's maxim!), to a pop-music ecosystem that's cannibalized itself to the point of parody, a movie industry that can seemingly fill ten months of releases with one script, the apotheosis of sport, the devolution of literature into a hobby for diarists, the way the performing arts are continually hoarded into smaller and smaller urban green zones, well, it's just hard to swallow most of that without gagging. Or throwing up. Yet a more concerted analysis along these lines is not called for here - we have much too much ground yet to cover.

Speaking of ground and covering it why not mention war? That old playground of glory now some video game where you might win many things; though honor's not among them. The full transition here is yet to occur, but we're definitely in the middle of it. Drones, air strikes, GPS targeting and bombs dropped from orbit (sure, not yet - wait for it!). The complete impersonalization of the other; that total objectification of the enemy (you better believe the pornographers have drone-envy). Let's not equivocate; it's one thing to look someone in the eye and take their life - quite another to push a button sixteen time-zones away and watch an image of indiscriminate carnage. How long will it be before we don't even let a homo sapien sapien push that button? How long before the machines are killing us on their own .?. Nothing to be cynical about here!

And if killing our 'enemies' has/is becoming so much more impersonal healing our 'own' has a fortiori. I'm not even going to start bandying about statistics but it's well known that of the 'first-world', 'post-industrialized' countries we're the only one that still considers healthcare a cash-grab instead of a human-right. And to what wonderful affect! Go ahead and try to ignore all the horror stories of your fellow Americans who lost it all because they couldn't pay their medical bills, or because they did. Pay no attention to record profit margins at insurance companies while the poor forgo all but emergency treatment and the wealth of the middle class is bled out and transferred to HMO executives. Sure, Uncle Tom tried to change all that - by passing a Republican plan even though the Ds had two branches of the federal government! - but when I tried to sign up for 'Obamacare' I still couldn't afford it even though I had $200 in the bank, no assets, and had been unemployed for over two years. If I lived in any other country where English is the primary language I'd be covered without paying a dime. My solution? To use the actual Republican plan - don't get sick!

But that should be easy since we all know of the three pillars of good health (diet, exercise, genetics) eating right is the easiest of all ... Hell. No, sorry, I was about to go all sarcastic and make it seem America knows nothing about sugar overload, HFCS, preservatives, the increasingly and horrifying inability of urbanites to access fresh foods (specifically the poor ones!), pesticides, pink slime, corn or corn or more corn or when will there ever be enough corn already, price gouging on foods that were produced the way they've been produced for centuries (read: organic, grass-fed, free-range), trans-fats, GMO proliferation in our breadbasket without an honest debate on the merits or looking at the science past what some corporation's panel has assured us is true, sodas, the food-gap, throwing away enough food daily to feed the world's hungry cuz it wouldn't make a dime, slaughterhouses like Auschwitz or Dachau ... That Quite Barbarism ... But that would be foolish - America knows all about that ... Why shouldn't it? America invented most of it …

And we invented the largest consumer-driven transportation system the world has ever seen to move all that food around. Sure, China will catch up with us eventually (if not already), but for the better part of three generations the US led the world in road-building and car-buying. Quite apart from the environmental effects this produced there was a profound psychological positive feed-back loop involved as well: one justifying the pre-dominate narrative of our consumer culture. Choice is sacred; you are special and unique and can reflect that through choice; so choose this product or this other one and express your uniqueness through possessing any one of these infinitely similar products; the choice is yours. Perhaps nowhere else in the market was this ‘story’ sold as diligently and aggressively than in the automobile industry. While it is true the US is, spatially speaking, a very large country, it is not true that every adult American needed or needs their own set of wheels to connect it. There are other options, other technologies that could’ve been employed to bring the masses together with more energy efficiency and communal cohesion. I admit it’s no Copernican Revolution, but the thought that Americans are so stubbornly self-interested and quick to discriminate opposed many of their European or native counterparts can not be divorced from the fact we all love to be in the driver’s seat. That commodified ‘freedom’ we are told awaits us on an open road with our very own internal combustion engine humming along in front of our feet; a freedom trains, buses, or carpooling can never provide. Again, notwithstanding the ecological impact of all this, the psychological dimension is impossible to ignore: even if we all owned Tesla’s that were powered by clean fusion charging stations it would still be me, me, me … which is quite naturally a completely uncynical disposition from which to hold a society together …

American’s fascination with their own value and freedom has of course been a dominate theme in the grand narrative of the country for some time; and while cars and roads were the major technological expression of that for much of the twentieth century, we have turned the corner here, in this regard, finding ourselves lost amid tiny little shiny screens that put the whole world inches from our eyes. With the advent of mobile computing the freedom so many seek isn’t conceived any longer by MPG rather MPBS. The new speed of information, and the promise of perpetual access, have enchanted the newer generations in much the same way vehicles did their antecedents. The technology is different while the story remains the same. It is still a self-centered freedom underlying the need, desire, to own the newest, quickest, coolest gadget. A freedom of information surely, yet one closely connected with the freedom cars brought their older relatives; it is as much economic as it is self-satisfying. The internet changed the game, naturally - and hail and well met etc. etc.! - but a claustrophobic observation remains … for a technology that has brought so many people together - and it has - it sure as hell does an awful good job sundering them as well … for you can’t find a public space anymore where a near-majority of your fellow citizens aren’t more interested in their precious little screens than those flesh and blood humans nearby. Perhaps this is just the necessary evolution of the social fabric - perhaps resistance is futile - though a social contract that has more to do with Facebook’s TOS opposed a Bill of Rights just (and forgive me for being so cynical) doesn’t seem like much of a society worth bothering with to this writer. Certainly not one worth the name.

Speaking of the modern technology we all now can’t live without, it seems to me a funny thing happened on the way to Google’s homepage … we now have access to all the information we can consume, on any topic, just a keystroke away, and look what we’re doing with it … I’m not just talking about social media or pornography, I mean the fundamental epistemological conundrum of an allegedly intelligent species that now has post-scarcity style access to information yet we’ve made of the web one colossal echo-chamber where the tribes huddle together in aggrieved resentment or ignorant bliss of the ‘others’ … look at it like this: in a day and age when the work of science (you know, that thing that made all this ((by which I mean ‘Modernity’ and all its toys)) possible) is more evenly, widely, and objectively disseminated than at any other time in history the public’s grasp and understanding of science and its work is at an all-time low. Basic data are disputed; empirical findings are called into question by anyone with a laptop, forget about a degree in the subject: what used to be considered non-issues, resolved subjects, are now argued over as if the Earth might actually be flat … all of which might just be good for a laugh if there weren’t actual existential threats to the species that only science can solve; yet we can’t even begin that discussion because some car salesman googled Glenn Beck and now we have legislatures that don’t think climate change is real; or they say the data doesn’t support an anthropogenic cause even though they never took a serious science course in their life; or that can’t be right because it doesn’t fit into our time-warp economy and a dollar today is obviously more important than our children’s future; or anyway shut-up idiot scientists just because you actually studied something other than law or business doesn’t mean you know any more than me because I have a high speed internet connection and I bookmarked the Drudge Report … how is it, philosophically speaking, tenable that the more information you have the stupider you become? I don’t know, but if you want a good example of the principle in action take a look at America today. Or just Google it …

Of course there is one thread that ties all these elements of ‘the surface’ together and that thread is consumerism as expressed by our current form of capitalism. The ascendancy of the dollar over all else (sorry God!). The desire to possess, acquire, consume. We are material creatures, we humans, and thus must consume to survive; fine: but do we have to do so in the manner we seem set on here and now? No, not at all, even suggesting that our’s is the only system, the only way to satiate the human hunger is absurd on its face as well as betraying an amnesiac’s conception of history. No, there are other paths, yet we have chosen this one, this ‘capitalism’ that mimics the terrors and rigors of the jungle at every turn. In the act of deifying money (more on that later) we have dehumanized ourselves. For the most part we are simple cogs in a vast machine that cares little or nothing for us; and so we care only for ourselves. The inherent egoism of the modern American psyche is spectacular to behold, certainly, in its primal vanity; at the same time giving the lie to any ethical system we still tenuously cling to as reminder of simpler days (sorry Christianity!). So we are, as a culture, no better than spoiled children grasping for another slice of pie. And while that’s certainly comical, it is also tragic, since such a system is not sustainable whatsoever (there is never enough pie). Neither history or science can provide any examples of such a system expanding into perpetuity (literature has given us a few but they are either satire or utopias ((same thing really))), and yet a sincere, concerted discussion on this issue has yet to percolate through the public sphere, or if so, only in the usual places and thus not given the sort of urgency it requires. But to have this conversation we all have to be ready to listen; it is not enough for the cynics and naysayers to keep shouting into the wild or the web: there has to be an audience, a receptive ear. Which brings us to our next section.

The Self

The problems elucidated in ‘The Surface’ are, to a great extent, symptoms of our sense of self, or, as is more often (if paradoxically) the case, our lack of one. While I am specifically referring to the modern American ‘self’, I’m going to be doing so with large brushstrokes; forming great swathes of colored splotches closer in kind to a rorscharch test than a pointilistic canvass. You may not see a reflection here so much as a sense of remembrance, or deja vu. That’s fine. I can’t be alone in thinking our lifespeeds have altered, and it’s just that alteration I want to discuss.

Lifespeed. Right. Let’s define that quickly so we can move on. By lifespeed I mean that facile quality of Being that tethers us to the ‘now’. Perceptually, our lives happen at a specific point in time, and I’ve conceived the word lifespeed to represent this point, as well as our conscious reaction to it. It’s just a word. Other than this meager definition it means nothing; has no other value. Right.

We were talking about choice earlier and there’s a clear connection between the act of choosing and the extant phenomena adjoining it. Just the relationship that lifespeed is meant to express. On its face, choice is neutral. Neither positive or negative, good or bad. The ‘designed’ choice of our consumer-driven society I find abhorrent, though not from some reactionary impulse, but a genuine longing for what it’s replaced. By making choices we define ourselves and I fear many of us are accepting a story that tells us we can only make this or that choice opposed to this that or the other. That we are told certain stories so many times we think we have no choice how they end; or wether to listen to them at all. In this way our lifespeeds have been damaged; like a bonsai pruned too severely.

Perhaps many are content defining themselves through ‘designed’ choice, or who ‘designed’ it anyway? Yes … there will always be sheep and lemmings in human form, and if that’s your angle you have my pity but nothing else. On the other hand, if you genuinely desire a leveling-up on the self-awareness front but have found this difficult to achieve thus far, you must realize two hard truths; the first that it is your business alone, none others - and the second, that it will be incredibly difficult to achieve because our society was not constructed to assist in this goal - quite the contrary! - it was designed to prevent it, at almost every turn. Here we return to the ‘designed’ component of American choice. Since the beginning the tiny tribes watching the throne have conspired to affect a marked class distinction in the land of the ‘free’. From the original agricultural workers of the new world, to the industrial workers who built a modern nation, to the current service sector workers slipping into poverty those with the firmest grip on the levers of power have continually strived to erect massive obstacles between those that labor for a living and those that live off that labor. Nor are these obstacles simply economic or aspirational in nature, no, due their pervasiveness through the generations they have percolated down into the most subterranean reaches of the mass conscious; into the very stories we use to define ourselves. Egads! a polite-hyper-modern-liberal-minded-triangulator might reply, don’t you know everyone has a TV! A refrigerator! Cheapest food ever! Why yes of course, there is an exception to every rule. While, for about thirty years in the middle of the last century, it seemed America was finally delivering on its promise, just look how long it took for us to devolve into another gilded age (the apparent default position of American society). It is foolish to define a thing based off aberrations, opposed its consistencies. In this way we clearly see the US for what it is … the second most successful marketing scheme in human history (naturally one must award Christianity top honors on that mark) … in the same way tobacco used to be good for you, that sodas were harmless, or how fast food is every bit nutritious as home-made, America cries ‘freedom’ when in so many ways the reverse is clearly the case. From ‘power’s’ perspective it’s nihilistically brilliant sure - give the people a semblance of freedom (in our case economic choice) and they’ll extrapolate that into a veritable cosmos of self-authorized-self-actualization - and you bet the monarchists, dictators, or petty politburos are jealous as hell at the level of control the political classes of America have been able to sustain generation after generation. A state of affairs that continues for no other reason than that an over-whelming majority of Americans keep believing the lies. We are forced to ask: why do they?

Let’s speculate wildly! Is it possible there exists some globe-spanning underground tributary of Lethe that constantly replenishes all the aquifers in the land? Or perhaps when we, on average a truly vain people, look into a mirror our historical consciousness is reset to zero? Or maybe we’ve all become so addicted to the stories we repeat about American Exceptionalism even the most destitute are content to sacrifice any chance they might have of another, better life, so as the stories can keep being told .?. the gyre is constricting at every turn, just like water flowing down the drain we’re becoming closer and closer to ourselves and ours; we’re losing a visceral sense of community and common cause through the ‘designed’ choices of a consumerist economy and specifically the newer technologies of self-absorption. So many of us don’t seem able to see past our own reflections, our problems, that even beginning to consider the larger problems facing our country seems as pointless as sending a manned mission to Mars.

The latent greed of the species is given free reign in America and this greed is destroying us. Making us sick. Stunted, withered, cloying little souls blighted with giga-myopia and eterno-amnesia. Greed. Most cultures have oft thought it a base emotion, one needing constant oversight - not the good ’ole US of A! We saw right through that ethical clap-trap - we saw that by harnessing the simmering greed of a people and putting them to work fulfilling that greed great things could happen … just absolutely amazing things … and we have accomplished quite a bit worth being proud over, and we sure have shown all those historical moralists just how wrong they were about the most solipsistic emotion … but this is a strange greed, our American one, one many may not even be aware of, so deep do its roots dive; a conniving greed that wraps in upon itself like a fresh burrito from Chipotle or those roller coasters you remember from Disneyland or Six-Flags … a greed that we have to learn to turn off, ignore, or quit seeing as so basic and benign in all our lives that there’s nothing you can do about it anyway - because it isn’t benign, it reacts to us and the environment as surely as we do it, and lately it’s been acting badly … yes, there are historical elements to this greed, there is also the question of personal responsibility, mutual complicity, systems of control and power as well - so many factors … I guess I’m nostalgic for another type of human being, one not fueled by avarice or beholden to the choices of others … qualities most seem to have lost somewhere on the way to Walmart … a human being that might never have existed except in a dream …

The Symbol

Human beings have long used symbols to represent value. Symbols are convenient, easy, and incredibly mutable. They can be transferred or translated almost infinitely. With a symbol ideas that might take an incredible amount of energy to explain or describe can be conveyed almost instantaneously. Logic and mathematics could likely not exist without them, nor, indeed, any language. And like any good thing, as is so often the case with any wonderfully useful thing, we humans have become dependent on them. Created for ourselves a world where we can not live without them. We are, in many ways, addicted to their utility. On its face there is nothing ethically challenging about this. Language and math are boons to humanity, practically describing our modern conception of ourselves. Symbols are naturally value neutral, like any high-level epistemological building block. And yet, we modern Americans have found ourselves in a tricky spot. We have crafted a society where one symbol is supreme. Where one symbol, and one symbol alone, holds all the power. A symbol that, if you find yourself without it, without access to it, without a stock-pile of it hiding somewhere, essentially makes you a non-entity. No longer part of the culture, the game. For it is certainly true that the only game in modern America is money. That collecting dollars has superseded all other activities; has supplanted any other endeavor as the only one with value. This state of affairs is the genesis of our cultural decline; of the death of the ideals that the Founders (who themselves were already playing the only game) attempted to instill in the New World: will in the end be understood by future historians as the single greatest crime of our time.

I say crime and I mean it. Don’t use the word for shock or awe. Nor do I want to dwell on this particular subject (not being the place for an extended analysis of this issue I will allow such a discussion its own essay, its own space, a place where it can be a bit more academic and dry, not so emotive or cynical) though we do have to mention a few more things before moving on. Crime. Yes. What was this crime? In short order here we go … it used to be the case that money was a symbol that referred to labor, actual work performed by one human that held value for another. So far as that is all money is, there is nothing ethically suspect about it. Then, at some point in the past, a few cunning paradigm-shifters saw an opportunity and changed the rules regarding what money was; they removed the labor as referent of value, replacing it with rare objects (typically gold) that few among any populace would ever see in their lives. Well, since the promise of alchemy was a lie, and the philosopher’s stone was never discovered, at least this money still referred to something real, something that couldn’t just be made up on the spot. Ah ha! the sons of the sneaky paradigm-shifters thought, that would just be the icing on the cake! Let’s remove the rare objects as value referent as well - let’s go all in on a communal mass delusion and see if anyone believes it … let’s just have money valued at whatever we say it’s valued at. Let’s create a massive shell game that only a very few will ever truly know the rules to, though the outcome, the results, will effect everyone … yes … let’s create the only game worth playing, and let’s give every live birth a turn … which leaves us with a system that, no matter how hard you work, no matter how industrious you are, if you don’t know the rules of the game (in modern America we can think of the Federal Reserve, Wall Street bankers, old money, select members of the Treasury Department etc. as the holders of the rule book) you will not win at it. You will play and play and play and keep losing and losing and losing all the while the rule keepers keep winning and winning and winning because for most players in this game the tokens of victory they collect (dollars) are bought at the hard price of actual labor, as if they never heard about how money grew up - no, they slave and slave for pennies without any chance of leveling up in this game and getting to that haughty echelon where money is no longer about work but having money make money off of someone else’s work … this little narrative I just outlined is a crime because there are clear stealers and victims (of course there are exceptions to every rule, but for every Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, there are a hundred and fifty million working at Walmart for a slave-wage). You see, the architects of the monetary symbol’s paradigm shift knew that by removing any referent to an actual act (labor) or object (gold) they were essentially hollowing out the natural relationship between the symbol and the symbolized, and in that empty space they would find their own El Dorado; their own little universe where they called the shots and none other. They essentially re-wrote the rules of symbolism, and clearly in their favor. And while symbols shift meaning all the time, especially in religious or political environments, these shifts are fundamentally harmless as neither religion or political discourse ever directly affects the physical well being of a human being as does their ability to acquire food, or energy, or health care, or shelter (I understand that by including ‘politics’ in this sense I might seem to be advocating a ‘post-history’ perspective; one where capitalistic-liberalism has won over all other political narratives, and while I hope that isn’t so, at the moment, and especially as an American author, one would be hard pressed to argue the point otherwise). To be clear, I’m not suggesting there was some shadowy cabal that gathered and planned out this great hollowing out of the monetary symbol; as is often the case it happened by fits and starts, here and there, as history would have it, propelled by the innate greed of the least amongst us. And yet they have scored a grand victory, these acolytes of avarice. Have pulled the proverbial wool over so many eyes - and in the process redefined a country that promised freedom into a vassal state completely enthralled to an ugly little strip of green denim that truly means nothing at all …

Of course this transformation did not just occur on American soil. But we sure as hell took the ball and ran it home. More than any other modern nation we are more readily defined by the empty symbology of the dollar than any others. This is not just an American problem; but we must be the first to address it …

America’s enslavement to the dollar is the singular cause of all the problems I put forth in ‘The Surface’, and, in many ways, ‘The Self’. We are a nation of suckers, rats, blind idealists, idiot sensualists, blatant thieves and the occasional dreamer … and knowing that, seeing my country in this way does nothing to alleviate my pathological cynicism … but allow me a query - do you still ask me why I am so cynical .?.

#Essay #Philosophy #c. r. stapor #cynicism #nietszche #modernity #philosophers on tumblr #writers on tumblr

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translatetwo · 4 years

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On the Motha of all Haikus, 01/03

This will be a triple post on a very famous Haiku.

The second on a special event on November 2019 when I tried to connect the Haiku and its final line with the paradoxical causalities we find in Quantum Physics.

And the third on recent media representations of its text and context on YouTube.

I am of course talking about Bashō’s poem about a certain pond and a certain frog hopping in.

By which hint I have already given away the punch line.

Which is almost inevitable, as the poem, with good reason THE paradigmatic haiku, IS nothing but a hint that consists of nothing but a punch line.

Of 17 syllables.

Here it is, in transcribed japanese:

furu ike ya

kawazu tobikomu

mizu no oto

http://www.carlsensei.com/classical/index.php/text/view/1

Some of those morphems are untranslatable, functional elements of Japanese, some are simple words.

Oto, for example, is sound.

Kawazu is frog, probably even a specific species of frog.

Ike is pond.

But ya is an exclamation that is hard to translate, but probably the most Japanese, and the most haiku-specific about the whole poem.

That “ya”, something to the effect of “see!”, or “go!” or “here!” is transporting the whole weight, or rather lightness, of the very essence of the haiku: Its power to capture one moment, one trans-personal glance, yet to be had by one contingent person, in a moment that is still, paradoxically, creating a home for the eternal.

Well, the eternal, the Japanese way.

All the more significant that this exclamation, as if to mimic what everyone knows about the Japanese sense of politeness, is not the first thing we hear of the poet and his brief poem, but a suffix, rather downward curving sound, completing the first line of just three.

Which brings us to the tricky question of a “good translation”.

Well, there are many. They vary, as the European languages (I have only checked German and English translations) differ from the Japanese.

Even without any knowledge of the original, one can easily dismiss most of the efforts as rubbish. For a very, very good poem -- and this is one -- can never be correctly translated by a lousy one, no matter the difficulty or distance between the two languages.

And in another respect, some of those translations are just signs of the time and the culture that produced them. For it is almost a historico-cultural law that once a translation -- or a forgery, for that matter - ages it quickly becomes alienated from the original it wanted to translate, or imitate to the point of indiscernibility, to transform into a simple item standing in just for its own time and culture, usually not winning anyone’s heart for that past state of affairs.

Take a look at this translation by Eli Siegel:

Pond, there, still and old!

A frog has jumped from the shore.

The splash can be heard.

To be found on a page with a lot of English translations:

http://www.bopsecrets.org/gateway/passages/basho-frog.htm

I have not researched this, but I bet this is not a recent one. It bears the mark of a by now obsolete effort to add unnecessary, narrative stuff to a statement of perfect clarity and brevity to make it “understandable to the Westerner”, as one might assume.

An utterly senseless effort, as the “Westerner” can either understand the universal charme of the poem with the very same organ of pure spontaneity that Basho employed when creating it.

Or they do not understand it at all.

Whoever has properly “understood” that lengthy report quoted above, has for sure not understood Basho's poem at all.

So why bother?

Why, to name just one troubling element of that highly useless translation -- why add a “shore” to the scenario?

We have the elements pond and frog and a jumping, and a sound.

That is enough.

Can the “Western Reader” not be trusted with the mental ability to add the unnamed shore to the scenario?

And while we are doing as Bashō did, and not name a shore, we might really grasp what it means to leave out unnecessary information.

Or, to go even one step further: Is it even correct, does it even honour the very truth happening in this poem, and in a way actually creating that poem, through its author rather than by him, to name a “shore”?

For it is one thing to point out that a shore was at play, even though that pointing out is redundant.

And still another thing to add a shore to the narrative that in a deep and highly relevant sense is actually not even part of the scene. Is not and cannot be.

Why?

Because the poem takes us into the frog, even though we are also, at once, outside of the frog. We are both the frog, and beholding the frog. And to the frog, as an autonomous creature having a vital relationship to the body of water mentioned in the first line, the shore is not a thing. The very edgeness of the water’s edge is to an amphibious creature such as the frog not the clearly marked threshold it is to humans. It would rather be a zone of fluid transition.

Yet where there is no line, no clear border, no sharp limit, there is no reason to name a shore.

It is one thing to see a frog on the shore of a pond and create an image of the items animal, shore and pond as things outside, being put into a synthesis by the external human eye.

And a completely different affair to enter, or rather leap, into the poetics of the haiku that manages to leap with us, as frog, through the frog, into that pond.

Of course you can be one of those nosy academics and point out that the supposed success of the haiku to make us take the frog’s point-of-view, or point-of-leap, is every bit as “anthropocentric” and “ontologically naive” as Mr. Siegel’s talk of a shore.

Still, there is a difference.

And the difference makes poetry.

So, to cut my journey short: I have to dismiss most translations for being inappropriate and too ignorant of the very spirit of the poem, and the Haiku at large.

Yet I also take issue with even the most literal and ascetic translations, such as this one by Harold G. Henderson:

Old pond

and a frog-jump-in

water-sound

http://www.bopsecrets.org/gateway/passages/basho-frog.htm

This translation is making some effort to “re-create” the Japaneseness of the poem in English.

Yet we could say that the mixing up of a technical “interlinear translation”, hence a word-by-word-translation that is not really respecting the rules, the style and the grammar of the target language, and a truthful translation is a trap.

It is as much of a contemporary trap, as the stuffy narrative quoted earlier has been the trap of a previous age.

After all - a translation needs to be a TRANSLATION, and not the mere staging of the properties of one language in another.

Yet even if we find merit in the reduced, Japanesing second and third line, the very lack of true poetic thought is apparent from the clueless first line that simply sticks to the most common version we all know so well.

Ah, the old pond.

Well, I take issue with the lack of any rendering of the “ya” that I have mentioned before.

Still: The one thing everyone seems to agree on, no matter the differences of translation in all other respects, is the “old pond”.

I take issue with that too, as it is inviting all sorts of heavy, nostalgic clichés the poem is actually free of.

It might not have been created yesterday, but there is nothing old or nostalgic about it.

So is it really necessary to have it start with the word “old”, thus painting the whole scenario in sentimental colours as if one were to use the semantic equivalent of a “Instagram filter”?

One might reply: But “furu” means old, does it not?

I could once again try to leap into the leaping frog and point out that to the frogs, as timeless as their existence is, and as timeless their relationship to their habitat, the pond, any mention of its age seems as misleading and out of place as the mentioning of a “shore”.

So if we praise Bashō for not bothering with shores frogs would not bother with … why point out the age of the pond?

I am unfortunately not capable of speaking Japanese, but just like all of you I can google about.

And so I checked out if “furu” has other meanings.

It turns out that it does.

According to this site “furu” can also mean used and second-hand

http://www.romajidesu.com/dictionary/meaning-of-furu.html

If we stay closer to this meaning, the further definition of the pond the poem is opening with is not referring to its old age and the nostalgia attached to it, but to the fact that it is used.

It is not an ornamental pond, we could surmise in a bold conjecture, but a used one. It does not offer itself to a merely disinterested, merely aesthetic gaze, it is an everyday pond for everyday use.

It is a familiar pond, not one freshly made.

It is a pond one would normally not notice at all.

Now that to me rings far closer to the spirit of the poem than any reference to old age.

For it points at the very paradox of the poem to even exist.

The poem only refers to things so utterly familiar that one would normally not notice them and hence not make poems about them, as poems are, after all, tools to pay specific attention to specific things in order to store them in a specific memory bank.

And what is more: Not only does the poem mention things not worth mentioning, it also makes an effort, a crazy, mad, leaping effort, to honour that fact of not-noticing while noticing.

While cutting out the very image of a pond, so familiar, so inconspicuous that no one would ever mention it, notice it, not even the frogs who rely on it as the very sphere of their existence, it still wants to deny just that, it still wants to protect that pond from any glaring attention.

It acts like a flashlight so brief that it makes the pond disappear again in the very split second it briefly shows up.

Disappear again into the safe, hidden space it existed in before the poet and his poem came along.

And it succeeds in this impossible effort of being so effortless,

not least by changing from sight to sound in its third and final line.

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trying-hard · 7 years

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Trans Issues and Christianity

For my first post, I’d like to talk about something I care about in depth - Christianity, transgender issues, and how they intersect. As a trans woman, devout Christian, and politics junkie this intersection comes up very often for me, and I have a lot invested in it. The effects of this go far beyond just me and people like me, though. The topic strikes deep into the core of Christian notions of gender and sex, making the consequences of this debate extremely important - not just because it impacts trans people’s lives and the current political climate, but also foundational ideas of the extremely powerful and influential religion of Christianity.

In the big picture, trans issues being at the forefront of social discussions is a somewhat new thing. In 2015, Slate released an article titled “Conservative Christianity’s Discovery of Transgender Issues Worries Trans Christians“. It discusses how a group of self-described biblical counselors held a conference on “transgender confusion”. The results were not surprising; the article gives it the description of a “one-sided succession of rants against modernity and cultural change that made little or no attempt to address how religious congregations could go about welcoming individuals who are transgender and/or struggling with gender dysphoria.“ Since then, discussion has only picked up.

For example, the Church of England had visibly warmed up to trans people, going so far as to consider special services to mark gender transition. This predictably brought backlash along with it. Meanwhile, the twitter of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Committee, the social issues arm of the Southern Baptist Convention, regularly brings up transgender issues, and is currently advertising a book on the topic. On the flip side, the United Methodist Church recently commissioned a nonbinary deacon.

To truly understand this debate, we need to understand not just the arguments commonly brought up, but the relevant traditions within Christianity. It is no surprise that gender roles are prevalent within it. The two major ancient, apostolic churches (Catholicism and Orthodoxy) have never supported women within any of the major religious roles. Methodism was a pioneering group for women preachers within Protestantism, and they started as recently as 1761. Even then, complete gender equality in church roles within Methodism wasn’t achieved until 1956.

In terms of scripture, there seems to be clearly defined gender roles. Paul does a majority of the complementarianism, with writings such as Ephesian 5:22-33, 1 Corinthians 11:1-16, and 1 Timothy 2:8-15. While there is a lot of exegetical work (which I won’t spend time elaborating on here) that goes into interpreting these seemingly plain verses, some of which suggests gender complementarianism is a misinterpretation, the majority agrees that the Bible does mandate certain gender roles.

Lastly, the issue of sex, both the biological kind and the action, is fundamental to much Christian thought, even if most don’t even know about the important conclusions which have led to our present. A long time ago, a person known as Augustine came into the Christian fray. Augustine had some ideas, among the most notable being the doctrine of Original Sin. Augustine posited that sex and sexuality is intimately tied to the curse of sin, passed through mankind. This is why Adam and Eve were ashamed to be naked; this is why an erection, basically a prerequisite to procreation, is involuntary; and this is why all humanity is cursed for the sins of the first humans. Sex is inherently bad, in a way, according to Augustine. The reason Augustine’s thoughts are important is because he was an extremely important figure in the development of Catholic doctrine, and even if many tenants of his thought are disagreed with today, the consequences of his thought - for example, that sex is something which should not be talked about lightly - remain in conservative doctrine.

These three points - gender and tradition, gender and the Bible, and sexuality - are important to this topic, because modern gender theory throws it all into chaos. It challenges notions of innate differences and the connection of genitalia to psychology. When so much revolves around sexual biology, what happens when that is disturbed? What about when the existence of intersex people becomes a key point? It requires rethinking longstanding views, and to institutions based in preserving the heavenly truth once and for all delivered to mankind, that’s scary.

I understand the challenges it presents to conservative and moderate Christianity, and how it’s unnerving. Despite this, I still have huge criticisms with how it’s been handled. Even discarding the very obvious criticism of “they disagree with me”, the topic has been handled atrociously by major powers in Christianity, such as the Southern Baptist Convention and the Catholic Church.

Appearances and reports suggest the Catholic Church has butchered transgender issues badly alongside LGBT issues in general. Right before the Catholic Church held the Synod on the Family in 2015, a priest by the name of Kryzysztof Charasma came out as gay and in a relationship with another man. This priest, who had formerly been a part of a major doctrinal organization within the Church and had written much on theology, was rapidly fired and defrocked (removed as a priest). He later was interviewed and had many interesting things to say about the inner workings on the Church.

“The reaction to gender really began after the UN conferences, after Cairo and Bejing. The Vatican responded to those conferences with panic and disorder...

“In this situation, you cannot reflect about reality, about this thing you refuse. Therefore, the reaction to gender studies is to reject... When Darwin wrote his book, the reaction of the Catholic Church and of Christianity as a whole was to reject it. The only strategy was prohibition – not objective study, reflection, or dialogue – of human thought, which the Church perceives as not coherent with the doctrines of the faith. The same thing is now happening with gender studies.”

There is much more like this in the interview. This confirms what I had suspected beforehand about Catholicism: it is either unable to handle new challenges to gender and sexuality, or refuses to. With all due respect to the beautiful and fascinating theology of Catholicism and the intelligence of the people who study it, it seems clear to me that in this field it has grown outdated and is now entering a state of petrification. It doesn’t even need to necessarily shift completely towards the more modern perspective to avoid this; it just has to actually engage with modern gender philosophy in an intellectually honest way. As of right now, this is not what the Catholic Church is doing.

While Catholicism is the larger and more influential group, the Southern Baptist Convention’s rhetoric is worse. While acknowledging the existence of gender variance and the scientific research on the subject, they pose opposition with essentially no real solutions. While Catholicism may be inherently neutral in basically refusing to engage, the discussion surrounding the resolution to condemn transgender identity involves complete anti-intellectualism, suggesting no longer classifying being transgender as a mental illness was political and not scientific. Other lovely descriptors involve “revolt”, “confusion”, and “rebellion”; as well as suggesting being transgender involves a lack of humility. It’s not just a refusal to engage - it’s harmful, anti-intellectual rhetoric that is explicitly aimed at the political scene. While it’s been a while since that resolution was passed, if the ERLC twitter is anything to go by, the SBC hasn’t gotten much better.

Many of my criticisms could be fixed through honest, open dialogue. Intellectual isolation does not lead to finding the truth, but to other-ing people, relegating them to the threat and not to someone trying just as hard to get through life as you are. In this exchange of ideas, people are humanized, and bad ideas are shown for what they truly are. Earlier it was mentioned how the Catholic Church uses intellectual isolation to handle trans issues. It’s been noted more than once that the SBC has a similar issue, although intentionality is more unclear. Simply put, they appeal only to their own “experts”, and anyone with an outside perspective is not included. This is always bound to lead to intellectual stagnation, and it has.

I believe there are Biblical ways to reconcile the concept of transgender people with the Bible without even touching topics like Biblical infallibility. The Bible does acknowledge, if passively, the existence of intersex people within the category of “eunuchs”, and in one case explicitly lays out that they have exception from normal rules. Given that modern scientific research suggests that trans people’s brains are literally the opposite gender, should it be true, it’s not a stretch to posit that they are the exception to the rule. I don’t believe that the idea that God forms everyone in the womb is particularly Biblically founded, given the only two relevant verses I know of are poetic. There is the traducian view of reproduction as well, which suggests that souls are created along with bodies in procreation, autonomously. There is more to my views which I may cover in a later post, but not here; the point is that there is a legitimate case to be made for conservative and moderate Christians that being trans is Biblically acceptable.

This debate is complex and has far-reaching implications. Beyond even the very significant effect it has on trans people, it touches foundational principles of what is arguably the most important religion in today’s world. The debate deserves respect and understanding from all involved, and while a solution likely won’t be found soon, it is imperative that Christians, politicians, and LGBT people collaborate to ease tensions and understand each other. There is more to it than hatred or rebellion; it is something which touches the deepest parts of people.

#politics #lgbt #religion #original #transgender #trans #christianity #catholicism #catholic church #sbc #southern baptist convention #anglican communion #anglicanism #christians #christian #lgbtq

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boricuareads · 7 years

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10 Books I’ve Loved in 2017 (So Far)

We are more than halfway through the (slightly cursed) year 2017, and thus we must start reviewing what we've done so far. Seeing as I met my Goodreads reading challenge prematurely, I thought I could talk about 10 books I've absolutely loved reading in 2017. Click to read through a fantastic set of books...

1. The Edge of the Abyss by Emily Skrutskie (2017)

The sequel to The Abyss Surrounds Us and its final chapter (that we know of), Cas Leung and Swift find themselves in common ground. If only the monsters infesting the oceans got that memo... A fun read and a shocking finale that will leave you wanting more, Skrutskie doesn't shy away from a sophomore debut that leaves you reeling.

2. History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera (2017)

Another kickass sophomore debut novel, Silvera dives into the toxicity that grief can be and heals us with his words. As Griffin comes to terms with the fact that his ex-love is dead, we follow him while he does both petty and sweet shit. But most of all, we hurt as much as Griffin does and we reconcile first love with first loss.

3. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (2017)

One of the most talked about debuts of 2017, The Hate U Give (THUG for short's sake) is a social sucker punch as Starr Carter experiences first hand police brutality and its repercussions. With a stellar and colorful cast, you will rage against the injustices the characters face, thin\k about the current state of race relations in the US, and draw connections to both. A necessary read, Thomas wrote a fearless and hopeful debut novel that shook the YA world.

4. Not Your Sidekick by C.B. Lee (2016)

Finally! Reading about Jess Tran's adventures made me live vicariously through her. I too am a degenerate bisexual wanting to go against The System. I adored every single character in this book like they were my own children, and it's obvious the author loves them fiercely too. I'm looking forward to the sequel, Not Your Villain (coming out later this year), which will focus on one of Jess's best friends and fellow meta-human Bells.

5. We Are Okay by Nina LaCour (2017)

I've waxed poetic about this book so much I'm beginning to think I imagined it. LaCour masters imagery and pesky nostalgia and manages to transfer them into the page as if they were meant to be. Though not a full-on love story, it should be a falling-out-of-love story, or a story about love evolving into something else.

6. It's Not Like It's A Secret by Misa Sugiura (2017)

It’s Not Like It’s a Secret was a gentle surprise. Not only did Sugiura write a set of fantastically complex characters, she wrote various family and friend dynamics that you rarely see in YA books set in high school. Sana unlearns problematic and racist behaviors, just as any other teen must do, and grows so much from when we see her at the beginning of the book to the end.

7. When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon (2017)

Dubbed as one of the best rom-coms of 2017, WDMR is an excellent contemporary romance that brings Indian American teens to the forefront of YA. Brilliantly written, and hilarious as well, Menon exceeded expectations and more while pushing the boundaries of who is allowed to fall in love on page.

8. And I Darken by Kiersten White (2016)

Lada Dracul and Radu “The Beautiful” were perhaps my most problematic faves of all time. They were scheming and conniving pair in order to survive in some way in the Ottoman Empire after their father sends them to Edirne as political prisoners and gain the sultan’s son, Mehmed, as a powerful ally. As an alternative historical fiction book, it quickly grabbed my attention with how toxic pair’s relationship was portrayed, especially when it came to Mehmed. A fascinating study in character-driven plots, White delivered and continues to deliver in Now I Rise, the much awaited sequel (which I am currently reading).

9. Flame in the Mist by Reneé Ahdieh (2017)

After the success of The Wrath and The Dawn duology, I was afraid that Flame in the Mist would be stuck in their shadow and, as I read, that was quickly dismissed. Ahdieh is a master of words and fantastic storytelling, and this book was no exception. Ninjas, samurai, conspiracies, a girl wanting to prove her abilities make her more than a prospective wife, and a boy escaping his past... This book has it all. Go forth and read.

10. A Crown of Wishes by Roshani Chokshi (2017)

I wish I could crawl into Roshani Chokshi’s mind and live in it. I love her characters, her worldbuilding, her words... One might say I’m infatuated with her but that’s neither here nor there. I wish everyone saw how beautiful her books are and how rich with colors (in every sense of the word) her writing is.

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junker-town · 5 years

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What was Eric Cantona talking about after winning the UEFA President’s Award?

Photo by Eurasia Sport Images/Getty Images

After receiving the UEFA President’s Award before the Champions League draw, Eric Cantona gave an unexpected speech that left many in the room and the watching audience confused:

Wins the 2019 UEFA President's Award... Gives bizarre cryptic speech to confuse everyone in attendance. Eric Cantona, ladies and gentlemen pic.twitter.com/qNgZB0cFoW

— Football on BT Sport (@btsportfootball) August 29, 2019

Here, in conversation, we try to make sense of of Cantona’s speech and the themes that he referenced in it.

Zito: First of all, I want to say that his opening is incredibly poetic. I have a feeling that it’s a reference to some literature or some myth. It sounds like something that would have been in The Iliad. I’ve been repeating it to myself since I first saw the video. “As flies to wanton boys, we are for the gods. They kill us for the sport.” There’s actually a series of books, “The Complete Book of Swords” that has that premise that the gods do toy with human lives for the sport of it.

Graham: It’s Lear. Gloucester after he’s been blinded, wandering the heaths, lamenting his fate. His wings torn off.

Zito: You’re right!

”I’ th’ last night’s storm I such a fellow saw,

Which made me think a man a worm. My son

Came then into my mind, and yet my mind

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more

since.

As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods,

They kill us for their sport.”

Graham: A fantastic cold opening to a speech.

Zito: Yes! I was trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar, but what an opening to receiving a football award.

Graham: So there I think Cantona is complaining about it being human nature to wither and die. Which is what segues him into immortality and science. Essentially the whole thing is a meditation on death and humanity.

Zito: Which makes his part about immortality not being able to stop the corruption of humans in the form of crimes and wars more understandable. That even if we are eternal, or when we become eternal, we will still be victims of human greed.

Graham: Right. But it’s not exactly profound, is it? It’s the sort of thing you might say when drunk around a campfire. It’s certainly weird and poetic and sort of interesting, but it’s interesting mostly because he chose to say it for a speech at the Champions League draw.

Zito: And then ending it with “I love football” as if he ran out of time.

Graham: I like the idea of adding ‘I love football’ to totally unrelated speeches:

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

I love football.

Zito: What is interesting about it to me, isn’t even what he said, but that idea of immortality. Which has been the central human fear since day one.

Graham: His purely biological conception of immortality might be worth unpacking. His understanding seems to be that aging comes through the slow failure of cells. Look, I’m not an expert on aging and I don’t think the science is even close to settled, but treating it as the result of the failure of individual cells is really reductive and treats humans like a static system. Which they are not. But it’s also interesting because immortality is inherently a static system.

Zito: I think that’s the type of reduction that comes when the enemy is so absurd. Otherwise, you have to acknowledge the futility of it all. It’s like the rich people who think injecting themselves with the blood of young people can reverse aging.

Graham: A healthy, young body replaces and recycles its cells as they fail. You could abstract that model, if you like, to humanity as a whole. Do we need the cycle of death to keep growing as a people? Not that there is, right now, much evidence of recent growth, but I think the general point still stands: Cantona seems to be treating elements of a system as analogous to the whole.

Zito: From The Iliad: “Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.”

Graham: That’s one of the Trojans fighting Dio[medes], right? Which translation?

Zito: That’s Glaucus to Dio in the 1999 Penguins Classics version.

Though I’m sympathetic to it, I find the search for immortality so amusing. It also reminds me of something I read from Simone de Beauvoir a while ago:

”Whether you think of it as heavenly or earthly, if you love life, immortality is no consolation for death.”

Though in that context, she was talking about immortal life after death.

Graham: Is there any version of the hunt for earthly immortality which isn’t a worn out old trope at this point? Not that I begrudge Cantona musing on it.

Zito: I don’t think so, simply because it seems to be central to every human struggle. Every fear that we have is a refashioned form of the initial fear of death.

Graham: Right. So I think the more interesting question is why Cantona brought it up at all. Even if the thinking behind the speech wasn’t original, the venue was startling. “I love football.”

Zito: I thought the “I love football” part was sudden. It seemed like as if it was supposed to to be an argument that football is one of the things that bring joy in the endless chaos of life, but came too soon.

Graham: So let’s maybe look at the speech line by line:

As flies to wanton boys, we are for the gods. They kill us for their sport.

Soon the science will not only be able to slow down the aging of the cells – soon the science will fix the cells to the state.

And so we will become eternal.

Only accidents, crimes, wars will still kill us, but unfortunately crimes and wars will multiply.

I love football. Thank you.

I don’t see anything about endless chaos, even obliquely. Cantona’s eternity is one of order. “Fix the cells to the state’ reminds me of butterflies pinned under glass.

Zito: Is it? After saying we would become eternal, he says that though aging won’t kill us, the things that still can, crimes and wars, will only multiply. Eternal life allows us to focus more on our self-imposed deaths.

Graham: So I think you can have a utopian vision and contrast it with your non-utopian ‘reality’. Cantona is painting a picture of a world in which everything is, if you like, crystallised. And then saying crimes and wars, which will multiply, are an impediment to that.

Zito: Then “I love football. Thank you.”

Graham: It makes me wish he’d had about three times as long to speak. He was only talking for about a minute.

Zito: It feels like there’s missing lines there, but he might have just needed a way to close the speech.

Graham: I also wonder how this would have been taken if it wasn’t Cantona talking.

“When the seagulls follow the trawler, it’s because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.”

Zito: He has a reputation. Though it seems that the idea of him as a crazed eccentric has more to do with the sport not being used to someone who speaks like him, more than it does with what he says.

Graham: Right. I do like his quote about racists though: ”Because arguing with racist people is like playing chess with a pigeon: It doesn’t matter how good you are! The pigeon is going to knock all the pieces down and shit on the board and parade around like he’s won.”

Zito: He is a remarkable man, and if nothing else, I appreciate that he seems to live in a world of his own. A poetic man from Marseille, I never would have expected it.

Graham: I’m not even going to try to pretend that I can think of any poets whom I know are from Marseilles. Has Cantona talked about immortality before? I’m still curious as to why he’s talking about it now. Is he feeling old?

Zito: He has. In this interview, he begins the answer to the question of whether he still has ambition with, “I’m sure I will not die.”

youtube

“I’m not afraid of death, but I love so much life.”

Graham: And the same sort of themes: ‘we will find a solution’.

Zito: It’s a bit in contrast with him then saying that he’s not afraid of it.

Graham: It’s almost religious, but as faith in bioengineering instead.

Zito: Scientism, which promises the same eternal life that some religions do, but in this world rather than the next.

Graham: So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.

I find the epistles fairly boring but they’re also pretty quotable.

Zito: This is actually one of the most interesting things to me when it comes to trans-humanism movement. The effort to free ourselves from the human shell, because it’s a constant reminder of the finality of existence. So if we can transcend it, we can hopefully transcend death, through science. But that also comes from the reductive idea that the body and the spirit are separate and a human being can exist immortally without a body.

Graham: Can you imagine how boring that would get though?

Zito: You don’t want to transfer your mind into a computer?

Graham: Well, right now I do because I’m extremely tired and it would be cool being disembodied. Also, would computerised brains get bored?

Zito: I don’t see what would be exciting about being detached from the sensations of the body. In gaining immortality that way, it seems you lose what makes mortal life worthwhile to begin with.

Graham: Well, yes, but you’re a hedonist. That version of immortality is the conceit of the life of the mind taken to silly levels. Also, I’ve seen how people treat computers. Who would want to inhabit one?

Zito: I guess for some any existence is better than none at all.

Graham: Also “I don’t see what would be exciting about being detached from the sensations of the body” goes back to some concepts of heaven too.

Zito: That’s why my favorite circle of hell in the Divine Comedy is the seventh, or the second ring of the seventh. For what the punishment of turning the suicides into trees implies.

Graham: Is it the birds shitting on you?

Zito: That’s awful, but also the idea that the full person on judgment day brings the body and spirit together (except for those who have treated their bodies as if it was material to be discarded).

Graham: I love football.

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theclaravoyant · 7 years

Text

how the light gets in (T)

AN ~ for @florchis who requested (paraphrased): trans!Fitz + “Jemma is worried about baring her scars from Giyera's torture to Fitz, but he has scars of his own and shows her that they're nothing to be ashamed of.” I also managed to sneak @thefitzsimmonsnetwork‘s prompt space in there! (read part 2 here)

Rated T for non-graphic to mild mentions of surgery & torture, & light innuendo. FitzSimmons, est. rshp, sometime mid-to-late S3. Title from Leonard Cohen’s “Anthem”

Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

how the light gets in

Jemma takes a deep breath, and lets the silk gown fall from her shoulders. It is smooth as it slides down to the floor, as smooth as the pale skin beneath, and Jemma lets go her breath, with a light shudder. She closes her eyes for a moment and asks herself, as gently as she can, for calm.

When she opens her eyes, she watches her shoulders relax. A smile touches her face. She really is beautiful, with her strong shoulders and delicate breasts. She should be proud. She should be excited, to strut out there and show Fitz what he’s been missing, and it was not that long ago she would have done it without hesitation but now…

Now she has this.

She grimaces, and touches her fingers to some of the most puckered skin, near one of her hips. She bites her lip, at the stinging memory of the visceral pain that had, quite literally, torn into her that day. She’s still ashamed of the screaming. But shame doesn’t make the scars go away.

They look like a surgery; incision points, where strips of metal had threaded through her like stitches. If he could have, Jemma wonders if Giyera would have tried to coat her bones in the stuff: to make her into a superhero, or at least a superweapon.

(It’s too bad really. She would have loved to slit his throat with claws of his own making. But she swallows the thought.)

It is too bad, that there’s nothing supernatural about these scars. Nothing special about them at all, except for the memories of the day she had betrayed the name of Agent and turned into a blubbering hysterical mess at the worst possible time. She should have kept her chin up, stayed strong, like any of the others would have done. She shouldn’t have let Fitz hear her scream, especially. He’d almost died because he couldn’t take it.

(Could she have though, if it had been him?)

A knock at the door shakes Jemma from her reverie and she jumps.

“Jemma?” Fitz asks. “Are you okay?”

There are tears in her eyes. This is not where the night was supposed to be going.

When she takes too long to answer, Fitz pushes the door open. He sees her sorry state and wraps her up in his arms at once, already crooning sweet nothings, and Jemma feels a little sorry for herself and at the same time, somehow, the luckiest person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I was just- thinking.”

Fitz lets her back to arms length with a frown.

“About what? This?”

He nods back to the bedroom, and Jemma shakes her head.

“No.”

There’s nothing else for it now. She takes a deep breath and steps back a little further, so that he can see the scars. They litter her skin as if she’d walked in the way of a rogue staple gun, and Jemma sees the horror cross Fitz’s face at the sight of them. Breathless, he wonders –

“This was...?”

“Yeah.”

She wishes she had the dressing gown on to cover herself up again, and crosses her arms instead. It’s Fitz, just Fitz, she should have nothing to worry about, but she’s still coming to terms with the scars on her own body. With the reality of their existence. Sharing them with someone else, with someone like this, with a situation like this, it suddenly feels like she’s reached too far and she wants to shrink back into her shell. But Fitz doesn’t leer at her like the older boys did, the last time she’d felt exposed like this.

(It has been a while. She loves her body – or rather, had loved it, and was trying to again. But that was beside the point.)

He doesn’t even stare; somehow, he doesn’t bathe her in that overwhelmingly compassionate gaze of his. No, Fitz drops his eyes and –

And starts taking off his shirt?

Jemma frowns.

“No – Fitz – what are you doing?”

He pauses and looks up, and realises what it must look like.

“No, no,” he assures her. “I want to show you something.”

He hesitates, just a little. Just like she did, before he pulls the material away. Instinctively, Jemma’s eyes roam his exposed chest, looking for what he had wanted to show her. She finds it quickly, like any keen scientist would, and her mouth hangs a little slack for a moment. It seems like something she should have noticed before but as she thinks on it, she begins to realise that she’s never seen him bare his chest. Except maybe once, after a bone dust incident, but they’d had bigger things on their minds at the time. Now, the smallest things are the most important in the world.

“Can I-?” she requests.

“Go ahead.”

His are old scars, no longer raised or reddened. They’ve faded to thin white lines: one running under his pectorals, one around each areola, and a little T-junction between them. She thinks, at first, it’s the fading that he wants to show her.

It’s not.

“What do you think?” he asks her.

She frowns, and thinks.

“I think they’re… you.”

“Are you just saying that to be diplomatic?” Fitz challenges.

“No,” Jemma scoffs. “It doesn’t feel authentic to say they’re pretty though does it? They’re not. But they’re not ugly. Is that what you meant?”

Fitz shrugs.

“Sort of,” he explains. “I guess what I meant is… They don’t have to be anything to be ashamed of. I mean obviously they’re different. Mine were voluntary and helped me achieve a positive change in my life. Yours were… involuntary.” (He leaves it at that). “But they happened, and you came out the other side and you should be proud of that. They may not have made you a better person or whatever, but you are a good person. And a beautiful one. Your scars don’t have the power to change that. They’re yours. You aren’t theirs.”

Jemma smirks fondly. Fitz smirks back.

“Turns out therapy does have a few good one-liners,” he quips, but he can see the meaning of it begin to settle over her. She frowns to herself and looks down, re-examining the marred stretch of her belly in light of this new perspective. Tears prick at her eyes once again as pain, frustration, and tenderness tug at her heartstrings.

“But…” she murmurs. “These aren’t me.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t be beautiful,” Fitz promises.

She blinks up at him, forlorn and wondrous, and he wonders if this is what it feels like for her when he gives her that look. The one she’s always talking about, that makes her want to pull out her heart and give it to him.

(She never says it like that, of course. She’s not so poetic. But he gets it.)

Fortunately, by largely unspoken agreement between the two of them, he gets to be as poetic as he likes, so he steps closer to Jemma until he can touch her. He keeps his distance and reaches out, and she doesn’t flinch away even as his finger runs over that same puckered line that she had reminisced on earlier.

“Look, they are yours,” he repeats, his voice low. “So I will ignore them entirely if you want me to. But I think they could be beautiful if you wanted them to be. Like flowers or diamonds or…”

“Stars?” Jemma offers quietly, as if she’s just catching onto the concept and doesn’t want to be incorrect. Fitz smiles.

“Stars. Perfect.”

Jemma is sure that he’s thinking of the velvety night sky they’ve looked upon together so many times. That he sees her skin as the expanse of the cosmos – with which he has a much better relationship these days – and her scars as the shining jewels scattered over its surface. She has more of a fiery vision – a get-too-close-and-they’ll-burn-you vision – but she also thinks that she might see what he sees one day. Stars in her soul. Not just these ones, but every scar, every struggle (and every joy, of which she hopes there’ll be plenty - and some of those might leave scars too). All of them burning brightly in the tapestry of her life story.

She smiles.

Fitz smiles back, and they share a soft and comforting kiss. But they know when to let a breakthrough sit. Fitz bends down and picks up Jemma’s fallen dressing gown, and she slips into it like a sigh.

“You know,” Fitz offers, opening the door for Jemma back into their room. “I did get icecream, in case that chocolate sauce idea didn’t pan out.”

Jemma snorts.

“You were never going to lick chocolate sauce off me.”

“Well now I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

Fitz keeps a straight face somehow, and Jemma shakes her head, laughing. She’s a little surprised to find that he actually has bought chocolate sauce – and Chunky Monkey Banana Split icecream to put it on. She fetches the spoons and he the bowls and they meet back at the bench with a smile.

“Now,” Fitz offers, “Are you feeling more Breakfast at Tiffany’s or Planet of the Apes?”

#fitzsimmons #engineering vs biochem #aosficnet #aos fic #aospositivitynet #team engineering #clara's fic tag #prompt me stuff

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bitchcraftmagic · 3 years

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I do not think it is a particularly hot take to declare, unequivocally, that the discourse around Pride this year has been, how do you say, rancid. It’s been month old eggs, solid milk, wilted lettuce rancid, baby. Between the unilateral dismissal of all things rainbow to no sexy sex in front of the precious children it’s just been a real mess. And all this messiness had me thinking about my own relationship to Pride and queerness and our history and I have come to some conclusions I would like to scream out into the void, if you don’t mind.

I like to call myself a historian because I got a useless degree in it and it makes me feel good. I am not a professional by any stretch of the imagination unless there is someone who can pay me to talk out of my ass, but alas, there is not. Instead I must deliver my missives for free here on this hellsite and pretend my $320,000 financial mistake gives me any authority on the subject . With that being said I have noticed, with alarming clarity, that people don’t know fucking shit about the past. Everyone just thinks the people of the past were dumbfucks who couldn’t wipe their ass and died at the ripe old age of thirty with twenty seven kids surrounding them. Critical fucking thinking be damned. Part of this is a shitty education system and the other part is rampant incuriosity. Some motherfuckers don’t care and it shows. Others just walk around with unearned confidence thinking they know all there is to know about history. It is an epidemic that will lead to our downfall, for this I am sure. But I digress. I say all of this to illustrate that so many queer people nowadays do not have a single clue where we came from and thus our discourse has become a hell from which we cannot escape.

Every year during pride month I watch the documentary “How to Survive a Plague.” It came out in 2012, same year I did, and I have gone out of my way to watch it every year. I own it, which says something in this age of streaming. And every year as I sit and sob, heart aching, eyes swollen, despair settled into my fragile bones I ask myself why? Why do I do this? It’s not a fun watch. It’s painful. But I watch it anyways. I watch it because it humbles me. I watch it because it hurts. I watch it because I see the anger and pain of a community that was so reviled by society it was left to die. And yet they screamed so loud that they could not be ignored. I watch with awe and reverence for the people who made it a fucking point to not die in vain but to go out with such force and righteous anger that no one could look away. To see what ACT UP did, to see what just average every day people did to make sure everyone understood that this was murder by neglect is something to be proud of. The fact that we as a community survived, that we as a community did not go quietly into that good night, the fact that we still created beautiful things and had beautiful lives despite the horror and vitriol that was laid at our feet is something to be infinitely proud of. It is why we celebrate Pride. We have Pride because every time they tried to shame us, to kill us, we said fuck you. It is pain and it is beauty. That’s our history. It behooves us not to lose sight of that.

The arbiters of discourse right now, I think, are rather young queer folk. I’ve seen a stat that says a 3rd of Gen Z identify as queer and I think because they have the numbers they have a pretty loud voice within in the community. I believe, for the most part, that this is a positive. The children are the future, etc. But I think a lot of Gen Z folks have lived in a world where queer acceptance is something that is rather commonplace. It is not really and truly, of course, and there are many things that still need to change but society at large is okay with queerness. To verbally come out against the LGBTQIA+ community is seen, at the very least, as “uncool” and you will be roundly mocked for your rather regressive stance on sexuality. This doesn’t have that much substantial advantage when we are systematically oppressed but the more privileged among us don’t feel the sting of it. I think this allows many people to live in the fantasy that expressions of queerness must adhere to a new set of rules devoid of historical context.

Rainbow capitalism is the buzz word de jour. It lives in the pantheon of misunderstood terms the internet has gobbled up. Gaslighting, normalize, cancel and rainbow capitalism exist in this pseudo-leftist hellscape where annoying people with internet access wax poetic about how ‘problematic’ Rugrats actually was because Deedee didn’t seem to have a life outside of the Pickle’s offspring (I made this up for comedic affect. If it exists in reality please do not tell me about it). Rainbow capitalism started off as an intelligent critique on the way in which corporations utilized queer imagery during Pride month to seem inclusive when in fact they were part of a the very structure that oppressed us. Wells Fargo, McDonalds, Unilever, shit corporations like this that slap a rainbow on something stupid and float down some Main Street in a liberal city claiming altruism when not a penny of their massive profits went into a queer person’s pocket. What it has been reduced to is a tool to make fun of any rainbow themed thing and any corny fool who dares dawn a pair of colorful shoes. We live in a society, baby, and it’s the nasty beast of capitalism. And in the confines of that society when you are a viable consumer you have value. Capitalism recognizes profit loss and gain not humanity. You earn humanity through market value and rainbow capitalism shows us, in the most twisted way possible, we have gained cultural capital. Is it perfect or even something we should actively desire? No, not really, but it says something about the way things have changed. I’m in my late twenties and when I was a closeted queer teen there was barely any acknowledgment of Pride month. Now I get emails weeks ahead of time telling me about the Big Gay Sale that Anthropologie is going to have or whatever. Sure I roll my eyes and as a big fat commie I do not engage with it but it does say something about our shifting societal acceptance. Oreos said trans rights which is…whatever, but it is also kind of amazing when you remember that not so long ago most of our culture liked to pretend that trans people did not actually exist. For our elders they saw a world that wanted them dead and now see a world that actually wants to cater to them even if it’s only for one profitable month. It isn’t perfect but it’s something. Your problem is not the rainbow part it’s the capitalism part. You hate being reduced to a consumer instead of, say, a human fucking being with a soul. We all have to participate in this nightmare but at least we can eek out a small modicum of joy when we rub our rotting bodies down with a rainbow themed soap bar. If you truly hate rainbow capitalism so much consider celebrating Pride a month early, on May 1st, with workers around the world and strike, baby. Use that queer anger and fuck capitalism right up the ass.

This brings me to my next point. Sex belongs at pride. End of story. Kids do too. And there are ways in which kink and sex can be separated from children and families at pride. I’m as sexually repressed as any former Catholic can be but I recognize that the fact that I am uncomfortable with some kink shit is on me and no one else. Queer people have been demonized for our sexuality, for being too sexual, for being ‘deviantly’ sexual. Flaunting our sexuality is and act of defiance. Don’t get it twisted. Also, kids seeing non-explicit sexual expression is not the end of the world. Human bodies and sexuality are not inherently bad or predatory and should not radically traumatize a person, minor or otherwise. I’m not saying go to bone town in public, I’m just saying a leather harness will not make a child weep in terror. Y’all have to be smarter than this.

The discourse is bad but what is worse is that no one seems to be listening. Queer history, in all its pain and glory, is forgotten or ignored. We can’t do that. We cannot allow our stories, our lives, our pain to mean nothing. Fucking learn about our struggles and our triumphs. Don’t fucking forget this all can go away in a blink of an eye and we have to fucking fight tooth and nail to be heard and respected. A don’t forget how far we have come. Our ancestors did not fight and die for us to forget them. And our community, around the world, still suffers and cries out for us. Remember that the next time you clown on some rainbow sneakers that at least they want your money and not your fucking life.*

*this was good line to end on but I do want to acknowledge that here, in these United States, black trans women are still fighting for their lives daily. I just liked the, uh, semi-poetic nature of the sentence. Thankyousomuch.

#pride #pride 2021 #pride discourse #LGBTQIA #rainbow capitalism #my thoughts #this is really not that serious I just had some shit to get off my chest #I’m so tired #sometimes people need to just go look at a tree or something #Twitter #I’m queer and I’m tired

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