#this post is so long
Text
tumblr tuesday: the greatest mafia movie
There's so much lore. An original soundtrack (masterlist here, thanks to @thisisnotjuli). It all began with a pair of boots. Then, a movie poster by @beelzeebub:
And here's how it's going:
@ms-musers:
@lspy:
@monsterhospital:
@waldwynde:
@fireleaptfromhousetohouse:
@mjulmjul:
@marella-moon:
@holl-horse:
@bricktoygrapher:
@greenscircus:
@theshitpostcalligrapher:
@sweetdollface:
@onion-souls:
@onemagpie:
@gregspectations:
@mimiadraws:
@flurgburgler:
@shrugsinchinese:
@runfreebirdrun:
@when-sanpape-arts:
@marblellous:
@ynngaa:
@vanwizard:
@inthefallofasparrow:
@1percentcharge:
And lastly, before she was Wonderwoman, @reallyndacarter was "Dancer #2." She has kindly revealed this hitherto unreleased photo from the world premier of the film:
Obsessed with Goncharov? Need more? If you want to join in, please be sure to use the tags #goncharov (for posterity) and #unreality (for those who need it). Take care out there!
#tumblr tuesday#goncharov#goncharov (1973)#gonchposting#the greatest mafia movie ever made#unreality#this post is so long#it's a#long post
44K notes
·
View notes
Note
Sci what's your opinion on Cablepool? What's holding them back, why can't they just bite the bullet and go for it? In your comics it seems like Nate's all in, so what's the problem?
short answer: it's complicated
as much as wade would like it to be so very uncomplicated
[x]
bad communication on both sides, me thinks.
i think the main thing for me that's the most important thing that makes wade and peter work where nate and wade fail is the balance of power! i think in wade's relationships as a whole there's often an unfair power dynamic because - not only does wade often feel unworthy, he's often in relationships with characters that literally overpower him. shiklah, ness and nate are all crazy freaky powerful, and even carmelita was domineering over wade.
historically, wade's always with very dominating partners who kind of want to control him. even nate - with all his best intentions - wanting to change wade for the better. i think it's why peter's breech of wade's trust during the break-up stung so much. he's tired of being constantly policed and judged and controlled in his relationships.
the theme of control is so prominent in the cable & deadpool series. it's everywhere. even in the costuming. the harness? the choker? y
LOOOOOAAAAADED.
(it's why when the popular demand for the choker to return won out, i had to give peter one too. for me the choker will always be loaded with metaphor. and the balance of power between wade and peter is so, so important to me.)
i've joked a little about how in most of 9319 wade's relationships prior to peter, he kind of exclusively bottomed. peter's the first male relationship where wade's been on top at all (save for bob. but there was no penetracíoné in that arrangement.) so this is all new territory for wade. he's never been in a relationship like this one before, where it's a mutual give-and-receive, and peter is just as emotionally vulnerable as he is.
in fact - you're more often to see peter wearing his choker than wade, because more often than not wade's in the position of power - power that's only granted to him by withholding his emotions, and peter often feels powerless with wade because of it.
wade's coming to terms with that - how much power he actually holds over peter. i think it kind of takes him aback constantly, because he's so used to being the fragile party in his previous relationships, and it's made him all the more guarded.
(it's also why he expects something sinister. peter's hiding something. there's no way this boy is actually this soft and well-intentioned. surely peter's somehow still holding the cards.)
fact is, neither of them are holding the cards. they've dropped the cards all over the floor and neither of them want to pick them up and they're both going to cry about it.
sorry - i got sidetracked. ough. cable. right. that's what we're here about.
the theme of power and control is so, so at the forefront of the cable and deadpool series. it's kind of always a see-saw of wade trying to navigate morally complex situations and nathan constantly interfering to sway him this way or that - and you're left questioning whether wade's really learning anything, or if nate just tricked him again.
the fact is, nathan wants to play saviour for wade. wants to save him. nathan has a god complex, and oftentimes messing with wade's free will in attempts to teach him a moral lesson.
nate wants to be wade's saviour, but wade doesn't need a saviour. wade needs to save himself.
in the end-up with the cable & deadpool series there is a resolution for wade, and it proves that wade did grow beyond just seeking nate's approval. (which he does, tirelessly.)
in the end-up, nathan's gone. and wade still steps up, in nate's stead. he doesn't need nate to be there anymore, holding his hand.
i think it's something the series could've done better - i think nate's kind of a jerk who's redeemed by self-sacrifice and i'm not about that. so while 616 wade's all sentimental about it in canon - 9319 wade is not so sweet about it at all.
9319 wade differs from 616 in that he stays salty. he doesn't learn a lesson. he stays needy and selfish and mad - mostly sad. i think i like that in characterisations of wade - that actually, he's not a hero. and he doesn't have to be. he's selfish. we all are. we don't have to save the world. sometimes it's enough to just survive it. i think that's what wade embodies, to me.
i don't think - practically - nate could've been everything wade wanted from him (what with all his gargantuan responsibilities and self-sacrificial tendencies etc. etc.) and wade, realistically, can't match nate's hopes for him either. he relapses practically every time nate leaves him, and his progress resets constantly because he's consistently hit with brick wall after brick wall of overpowered messiah bullshit that makes him feel inept and undeserving.
wade might want so very badly to be deserving of nate's love and approval, but the heroic stuff isn't built into his fibre. it's just not.
i can't stress it enough. wade does not want to be a hero. he just wants to suck and fuck and retire to the bahamas with the man of his dreams. he's a simple man.
the only reason he even tries playing hero is for the promise of love.
he does not want to have to prove himself over and over and over again to be worthy.
for god's fucking SAKE can't a guy just suck and fuck and retire to the bahamas with his loving boyfriend without having to fucking save the world every week! what the fuck! what is wrong with this fucking economy!!
in that way - nate just can't give wade the companionship he needs. nate has way too many responsibilties weighing on his massive shoulder pads. nate is always going to be making sacrifices. it's in his nature. but wade - wade's constantly losing what he loves, non-voluntarily. he's sick of the sacrifice. he doesn't want to lose anymore.
for once, wade just wants his fucking happily ever after.
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sketch Book O.C.s:
I'm sort of trying out Vivienne Medrano's art style to see if I can add elements to mine. 'Cause her style is amazing. So here are some O.C.s I randomly made. I also drew some of Viv's characters. I hope y'all like 'em and their average names I made up uncreatively. :)
#Hazbin Hotel#Alastor The Radio Demon#Angel Dust#Cherri Bomb#Vox#Helluva Boss#Blitzo#Verosika#Wednesday#Enid Sinclair#Trying a new style#It's so fun#This Post is so long#You're all going to hate me now but oh well#Sketches#Posca Pens#Pencils#Ball Point Pens
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is going to be a very long post about Pufnstuf. It has some unpopular opinions. I had no clue where my DVD copy was, so I watched it on Internet archive, some of the notes will by biased because of that. You have been warned.
My notes on H.R. Pufnstuf from August and September of 2022
Ranking of the episodes
The Birthday Party (episode 7)
Jimmy Who? (Episode 17)
The Visiting Witch (episode 14)
The Golden Key (episode 6)
The Magic Path (episode 1)
The Wheely Bird (episode 2)
Tooth For A Tooth (episode 13)
The Almost Election Of Witchiepoo (episode 15)
The Mechanical Boy (episode 4)
You Can't Have Your Cake (episode 9)
The Stand In (episode 5)
Show Biz Witch (episode 3)
Dinner For Two (episode 11)
The Box Kite Kaper (episode 8)
Flute, Book, And Candle (episode 12)
Whadda Mean The Horse Gets The Girl? (Episode 16)
The Horse With The Golden Throat (didn't even watch it, episode 10)
I took statistics, because of course. (This discounts episode 10, because I am kind of scared of it, (and also I am an imperfect human) so take this with a grain of salt)
Number of times "witch" was said (discounting Witchiepoo but includingthe intro): 245
Average per episode: 15.3
Number of times "Flute" was said (including the intro): 86 (why so low?!)
Average per episode: 5.3
Number of times someone got whacked (as in a witch (including Jimmy in that one episode and the lackeys) hitting someone else): 70
Average per episode: 4.3
Number of times someone (Freddy) said "I'm scared" (again, discounting episode 10): 10
Average per episode: 0.6
Number of times it was the full intro: 13
Number of times it wasn't: 3
"I sure hope so": 7
"Keep those cards and letters coming": 8
This is already so long. ☆ means I thought the episode was notable. W is how many times "witch" was said in the episode, F is same for "flute", WH is for whacks. (This means I'm adding context or new notes), 'this means it is not a quote from the show but is supposed to be said by a character', "and this is a quote from the show". Let's get this long post even longer. Will use shortened titles, and the notes are in order of The Magic Path to Jimmy Who?. I have no clue what I was thinking for a lot of these, please forgive me.
Magic Path notes ☆ (full intro)
Why don't ya just get rid of the witch? You're the mayor!
Pufnstuf seems really fed up with Dr. B (Blinky) in one scene.
Dr. B is comedy gold!
This song feels really close to home.
Judy! *starts screaming*
The idea that those skeletons are real.
Even though we never saw him in the real world, it feels like he was actually there. (I think that was in comparison to the movie)
Unlike the coloring book, the order they run out of the castle Jimmy, Judy, Pufnstuf. (Had just done a coloring book video)
Other episodes have more characters, so it's harder to say goodbye, they've been here like a day.
How does the Magic Path work?
It didn't dissappear! It's still there!
Just runs away.
Racist. I love Jimmy's reaction shot right after.
80's freeze frame in 1969.
I sure hope so!
I love this, I love this so much.
W 16, F 10, WH 5
Wheely Bird notes ☆ (full intro)
It's wheely bird, not whirly bird.
Are the other candies alive?
"Nothing, we wanna do nothing."
'I would die for him', that sounds pretty gay.
"I just gotta protect Jimmy", that sounds pretty gay.
Forget about Freddy song.
I think Dr. B is just like that.
"All the good guys (...)", thousands died because of them.
And the trend of using real fire goes on.
Cling and Clang seem like toddlers.
Pufnstuf flirting with Orson joke.
Orson is one of those people.
"It worked too well, he's fallen in love with us!"
"Now, how do we get rid of our boyfriend?" (Not sure if that's an actual joke)
'I'm kidnapped and my first thought is Jimmy', these jokes write themselves.
'I would die for you!' 'I would die for you more!'
Another gay joke.
Are wands guns?
Forget about Freddy song, again!
This episode was gay.
I sure hope so!
W 10, F 12, WH 1
Show Biz Witch notes (full intro)
Judy's in the background doing what I do. (I think I ment stimming, but I'm not sure)
Jimmy's face.
They don't tell you about buttons until episode 3.
Jimmy says MC.
Pufnstuf saying weird things.
Love yourself like a witch.
A pear isn't square. (What?)
Dr. B and LL (Ludicrous Lion) are the only two that don't run off and instead hug each other.
I never realized how gay this show is.
Breaking up the band will come back later.
The idea that Witchiepoo has killed and is willing to kill.
Assault the guards, great morel for a kids' show!
'I cannot live without Jimmy.'
'We just threw someone into boiling water.'
Pufnstuf and Jimmy are kinda jerks in this one.
I sure hope so.
W 11, F 7, WH 4
Mechanical boy notes ☆ (full intro)
Wow, the Jimmy Diaries were based on something. (Old fanfic I wrote when I was 12)
First time (pretty sure only) Jimmy gets misgendered.
"Big dumb-o!"
Again with the real fire.
Cannon, Cling and Clang make bubbling sounds.
"I am sorry, I can not give out that information!" (ICONIC!)
How the hell do you know it's a time spell?
First time Jimmy gets brainwashed.
'Here Dr. B, take Freddy!' *throws Freddy*
Outside of backgrounds, first time we see the clock people.
"I have 24 hours." 'Jimmy, sit down.'
Pufnstuf is cute to the women of the island.
Time dohicky, only works once!
I love the Cuphead music in the background! (???)
I sure hope so.
W 15, F 10, WH 4
Stand in notes (full intro)
Very jarring, all of a sudden in wide screen. (That is on internet archive)
There's a second floor to Pufnstuf's cave.
Hi Shirley, thanks for confusing Pufnstuf lore.
The only Pufnstuf girl I didn't want to date.
It's as if they took all the pink and put it on her, she sticks out like a sore thumb.
"If it wasn't for this man," turns to Puf, "my producer, Toadinof!"
Shirley with her dead arms.
Jimmy's face.
Jimmy always plays the bad guy in Shirley's films.
Make up!
Jimmy and Pufnstuf saying goodbye makes me sad.
"I don't think of you as a woman, I think of you as a witch!"
Sweet karma with setup and payoff!
Again with real fire! At least it has a cute story. (Cute long story.)
Keep those cards and letters coming!
W 17, F 4, WH 7
Golden Key notes ☆ (full intro)
(This is a better magic path, sue me.)
This is hyping up a lot more than magic path, and we aren't even a minute in!
"A secret, genuine, escape map which leads to the golden key which opens the magic golden escape door." (Magic Path never that world building!)
"Quick, let's hide!" Someone found them in two seconds.
"Makes every war sound!"
Use the magic compass key!!!
At the end of the road, halfway through!
Does Witchiepoo use Amazon? (No!)
Jimmy sounded like he was in a horror movie.
They said it! They said it! (What did they say?!)
I sure hope so!
I really like this episode!
W 9, F 8, WH 3
Birthday! Notes ☆ 💔 (full intro)
Jimmy Diaries was based on something.
The camera's shaking like crazy.
Oh Jimmy, be happy! It won't last long.
This makes me feel really happy!
I love this song!
Now I'm mad cause Witchiepoo has to ruin it!
We're getting the band back together!
I'm really sad now.
Why can't this episode just be happy?
"When the witch finds out, *ha ha*, she's gonna kill me!" *laughs then faints*
This got really dark really fast.
At least Judy's in this one.
The witch is willing to kill a flute!
Very relevant.
The freaking puppets wear it (the masks) right.
Witchiepoo seems like such a Karen.
I sure hope so!
This broke my heart. 5 stars.
W 10, F 8, WH 2
Box kite kaper notes (full intro)
How much is a gold button worth? Is it like gold standard? (Fun fact, a normal button is worth $2.50 USD!)
LL is a gambler!
LL would pay off the four winds. (What context would lead to that?)
'Hey dad, can we get a box kite? For going home reasons.'
Jimmy just looked at Puf like he said an F bomb.
I love the Witchiepoo costumes.
There's a top level entrance. (Huh?)
(Drawing of a wand being broken I think?) Does it snap? (What?)
She's drugging them, again!
Like I said, it'll get harder to say goodbye.
Kite pun.
Don't say anything until you're safe!
Bomb an 12 year old!
Almost murder a 12 year old!
Joke from the movie.
I sure hope so!
Not very good, too much filler.
W 4, F 9, WH 2
No cake notes ☆ (full intro)
Judy! Moon walk! Argh!
When measles wasn't almost gone!
Maybe I should memorize it! (Refering to the moon walk, if I need to prove my endurance, I'll do it.)
Clang's hat tip.
"How stupid do they think I am?" "Very." "Very what?" "Very stupid."
"That's what I think, I think."
First full Judy episode since Magic Path!
"He's drunk with power!"
'I'm just gonna jump out and scare some toddlers!'
'Let's defeat them with dancing!'
And Judy is safe!
Keep those cards and letters coming!
I rank it Judy, I love her!
W 4, F 4, WH 10
Dinner for 2 notes (cut intro)
Time dohicky: probably not gonna go right!
Is it bad I can relate? (I think it's a note to loneliest witch but I'm not sure)
Jimmy, you're never going home.
Alright, it is stated he's 12.
"At least I think he's alive."
"Is that your nose, or are you eating a banana?"
Hot milk and cookies: the way to Jimmy's heart!
Find the witch a man! It's for your own sake!
Witchiepoo was a baby at some point!
Keep those cards and letters coming!
Meh, not very notable.
W 16, F 2, WH 1
Flute, Book, & Candle notes (full intro)
Terrible video quality. (This is on all platforms)
Mushrooms, just mushrooms.
Books can have siblings.
His name is just Candle.
Artful Dodger reference.
*kicks them* "Bye now!"
The book has a beard.
It just cut off half the song!
There was no see you next week!
Worst episode so far.
W 9, F 2, WH 3
A Tooth For A Tooth notes ☆ (cut intro)
So a love potion?
The fact that a witch raid is par for the course.
A doctor has to treat a patient.
"Yoo hoo, feathered medicine person!"
7:08 (on internet archive), this scene cracks me up.
The origin of the 'oh, my poor ace friend' meme. (Meme I created. It's not a real meme.)
Witchiepoo's face.
This episode's giving me tooth rot.
This was the closest he ever got to going home.
Keep those cards and letters coming!
I like it but I don't know what to say about it.
W 22, F 0, WH 11
Movie Episode notes ☆ (cut intro)
Slowed down, yay! 🙄 (on internet archive.)
Judy! And others.
Yay! Their gonna kill off horse!
If I get a kiss from Judy, Hell yeah I'll go! (No. Shut up. Don't don't do this to us.)
Stupid bat and horse have the same voice.
That means Judy has to leave... 😥
Another kiss?! Sign me up! (SHUT UP!)
Why do they have to say witch so much?
Buy our Pufnstuf plush!
Judy is the idea frog!
Jimmy does drag!
'How dare you say I'm not pretty.' (I think it was supposed to be an incorrect quote, but I'm not sure.)
*lifts up wand* *recoiled*
*breaks wand*
"I hereby banish you from Living Island, forever!" (Why can only boss witch do that?)
Keep those cards and letters coming!
W 69, F 0, WH 10
Election notes ☆ (full intro)
Slowed down (on internet archive), again!
No one wants to run against Pufnstuf.
"If a lumpy dragon can be mayor, why can't a pooped out pigeon?" (I'm not a dragon, I'm changeling!)
"We women have a right to change our minds!" Take that as you will!
Jimmy writes his own songs.
Judy!
Yeah, but Judy kissed you too! This is why I don't like horse. (No, you hate him because he's a backstabbing hypocrite and because of episode 10.)
"There's only one thing to do... PANIC!"
Jimmy shrugs.
'I'm a shooter and I'm running for president. See? I didn't bring my gun.'
The witch just did a Trump move.
'Uh, uh, he's honest!'
I love Pufnstuf sobbing.
You went down to her level!
Keep those cards and letters coming!
W 10, F 2, WH 2
Western Horse notes (full intro)
Horse has a crush on Shirley. Ugh...
You need to make money to get rid of the witch?
Freddy's a background character nowadays?
I forgot about the witch.
Nothing about Freddy. It's the forget about Freddy song all over again!
This is why I hate horse.
'Jimmy doesn't need to go home, let's make a movie!'
Not even a word about Freddy.
"I ain't Mary Poppins!"
"What happened to Horse and Shirley?" And Freddy.
Suicide joke! You know, for kids!
What happened to Freddy? I want my dude in distress!
"Now, I got the whole gang." What about Freddy?!?!
Keep those cards and letters coming.
😒 0/5
W 10, F 2, WH 1
♡ Jimmy who? Notes ☆ yes! (Full intro)
Jimmy falls and almost cracks his head open.
Horse.
"No, who's Jimmy?"
Yay! Freddy's back!
I love a jump cut.
"I'm an owl, I'm supposed to say who!"
'Jimmy, sit down.'
Birthday flashback.
'I'm getting outta here.' 'Jimmy, sit down.'
Artful Dodger flashback.
'Let's leave the kid who wants to leave alone! He totally won't leave!'
And Freddy's gone. Well, it was fun while it lasted!
The trees go into the castle.
They mentioned him! (Freddy)
Mechanical boy flashback.
Milk and cookies. Our hero, lady's and gents!
"Why did you break in here? Leave this poor lady alone!"
He chooses wrong!
'Witchiepoo who?'
Keep those cards and letters coming!
W 13, F 6, WH 4
And that is all my notes. That was so long. I'm sorry.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m not obsessively tagging this one, so just a few content warnings: there’s nothing graphic, but there’s some TMI stuff about sex and masturbation; talk of food and alcohol; discussion of grief, death, and illness; and a brief mention of transphobic/transmedicalist stuff. Also it might come across like I’m bragging about some compliments I’ve gotten for my writing recently. Also it’s long.
This is a really long entry, because I started writing it like, ten days ago, but then more stuff happened. This is a common thing for me, with letters and journal entries; I start writing them but don’t have time to finish, then more stuff happens, and I start adding the new stuff, but don’t have time to finish, and then more stuff happens and…you get the idea.
Anyway, these past two weeks have been jam-packed. There’s been a lot of luck & magic & beauty, with some hard stuff mixed in. (That’s life, that’s what all the people say…)
…
The evening of Thursday the 16th, I sent the ‘Mats-inspired vignettes to the editor of a zine I thought it’d be perfect for. Friday morning, I opened my email, and read his response. He loves it, and wants to run it in the next issue. He said I “perfectly captured that lonely midwestern feeling that certain Replacements songs have,” and that my writing is “romantic, but also real, like Kerouac mixed with Cometbus.” And if you know me at all, you know why I practically swooned over those particular compliments.
I also got an email saying our local library’s free seed library was newly restocked for the year, and I wanted to get there before it was all picked over. So, C. and I went to the library and picked up seeds for this year’s garden, along with an info packet on where and when to plant everything. We got seeds for: cayenne and poblano peppers; pickling cucumbers; spinach, mustard greens, collard greens, and kale; eggplant, squash, broccoli; Roma and Wisconsin organic (heirloom) tomatoes; carrots, and radishes. I’m so excited. Last year’s garden was our most successful ever, but we also made a couple mistakes which we learned from, so I’m thinking this year’s garden might be even better.
After that, C. and I popped over to my friend D.’s house. We got to meet his new pitbull-mix, Leonard, who is less than a year old and is therefore super high-energy, but so sweet. And we got to see their two-week-old foster kittens (and their mama), and C. even got to pet one! D. also gave me some cayenne and habanero, which he grew in his garden last year, then dried and ground—he’s been giving it to anyone who wants some, as he grew so many peppers that he can’t possibly use it all. (He also offered me some Carolina Reaper, but I passed on that.) I told him if there was ever anything I could give him in trade, to let me know, and he said: “Just listening to your spoken world album is trade enough,” and went on to say that he’s in awe of my poetic abilities.
All these compliments, a guy could get a big head! Except, I often think my writing is okay at best and I should just quit; when I get compliments like those it just offsets that and makes me realize that if other people are getting something from what I write, I should keep going.
Our last stop was the grocery store, where I got the rest of what I needed for the Dublin coddle, and got my flirt on with a beautiful redhead girl.
I had thought about putting green dye in my hair and painting my nails green for St. Paddy’s Day, but after all that running about town, I didn’t have time. I did, however, put my hair in braids (it’s long enough to braid now!), and put on green eyeliner.
I spent the next while putting together the Dublin coddle and getting it into the oven. I listened to the St. Patrick’s Day mix I listen to every year, then I listened to Hozier’s new EP, which holy fuck, I am trying so hard to be normal about, but it’s difficult. I truly wish I had a close friend who was into Hozier that I could nerd out about it with. Then I made a cup of tea and sat out in the backyard for a bit. One of the neighborhood crows came and lit on the fence, and it was cawing loudly about something. I asked it what was wrong, and we had a little ‘conversation.’
Me: “What is it, what’s wrong?”
Crow: *cocks its head from side to side* caw caw.
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that.”
Crow: squirrr-wakkk.
Me: “I’m sure it will turn out fine.”
Funnily enough, the crow quieted down after that, stayed there for a while looking at me, then flew off.
It was really windy that day. To paraphrase myself: the wind, my lover, had returned, so I flirted with him a bit.
In the evening, I drank a pint of Guinness and a small glass of Jameson. In the old days, I would have easily downed three pints of stout and at least half a bottle of whiskey, not even because it was St. Patrick’s Day, but because it was a day, and to paraphrase myself, again—if you’re really Irish, you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. But I don’t do that anymore. The thing I do still do is get nostalgically sad (sadly nostalgic?) about old flames, and I had a few moments of that on St. Paddy’s Night. I found myself missing Ruby, and Jack of Spades, who I always miss most at this time of year; and Derry, whom I miss all the time, but always hardest in the spring and fall.
And then I emailed Derry. When I saw him back in October, I told him why I never respond to his periodic emails. And since then, he hasn’t emailed me; we left each other with the ball in my court, with it being up to me if I wanted to ever be in contact with him again. I probably shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even drunk, so I didn’t have that as an excuse. My only excuses are that I miss him so, so, so much, and I’m addicted to bad ideas.
Then P. and the kiddos and I watched Darby O’Gill and the Little People, which I hadn’t seen since I was a child. The movie left an indelible impression on me when I was a kid, though—I was deeply, deeply terrified of the banshee. Watching it the other night, I was no longer afraid, but I do understand why it scared me so back then. The sound she makes is absolutely bone-chilling.
…
Saturday, the temperature dropped, drastically—it was the coldest day we’ve had in weeks, felt more like midwinter again—but we braved the cold to go downtown and see the St. Paddy’s Day parade. It’s a small parade, even smaller this year because some people dropped out due to the weather, but it was still nice. A marching band started it off with a rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar.” One of the bars on Main Street was selling drinks, both alcoholic and non, in to-go cups, so you could grab one and take it outside while you watched the parade. P. and I both got Irish coffees, the kids got hot chocolate. The kids grabbed handfuls of candy and green plastic beads that some of the floats were tossing to the crowd. I sipped from my drink, and half-watched the parade, half-watched the other spectators.
There was a super sexy man standing near us. He was fat and also just big, like over six feet tall. He had a long, gray beard, but it was a very well-kept long beard, not ratty or dirty in any way. He was wearing a black beanie, a black leather jacket, an Irish kilt (with the tartan for County Derry; yes, I looked it up when I got home), and these tall, intricately patterned leather boots. I guess he caught me lookin’, cuz he fucking winked at me, and then I blushed so hard that my face felt hot despite the cold. Jaysis.
The best parts of the parade were the Root River Rollers (our local roller derby team; they looked hella cute in their green plaid skirts and black leggings and derby gear; I have a major thing for derby girls and have for a very long time); the float from McAuliffe’s Pub (they had someone on fiddle and someone on bodhrán, playing a reel); the pirates of Will’s Revenge (they’re a local group who cosplay as pirates for various events, I always love them, but this time they’d added little Irish touches for St. Paddy’s; of course I thought of B. saying of me all those years ago: …you’re and Irish pirate, that’s the best kind); and the girls from a local dance school (they were wearing black hoodies and black leggings and sparkly green tutus; they did a wildly impressive hiphopjazz dance routine).
Later that day, I made some minor edits on my ‘Mats vignettes (at the editor’s suggestion), while listening to The ‘Mats, and “Treatment Bound” came on and for the first time it hit me how much it sounded like some of my old friend L.’s music. I mean, I knew he was a Replacements fan, but it had honestly never hit me until then how much his sound was influenced by some of their stuff. Particularly the stuff off Hootenanny. And then I sat around missing L. for a while. I’ve written about him a lot before. He was one of those friends I had an intense crush on, and I thought I wanted to smooch him or maybe even bone him, but the most we ever did was cuddle/spoon. And then I realized it was better that way; I could get really close to him without worrying about sex making it weird. And then years later, I realized I never had actually wanted to fuck him, I had wanted to be him (or, well, be more like him, anyway). He had such a huge impact on my writing, my music, my life. We never had a falling out, just lost touch, got busy with our separate lives, never ran into each other anymore. The usual. I think of him often, though, and decided to web-search him the other day just so see what he’s up to. I found out that all his albums are now up on Bandcamp, and I’m so excited, because I lost my copies of them ages ago, and I love his music so much.
…
The next day was warmer again, though still windy. I took a long walk by myself. I trysted with the wind, again; he yanked my hair and slapped my cheeks pink. I walked down to the Little Free Library that’s in my neighborhood; I’ve found some great stuff in it before, and it had been months since I’d checked it. This time, I found nothing. I did, however, spot a tow truck with the words Anywhere and Anytime on it, and I snapped a picture. It seemed like a good sign, as the title of my ‘Mats memoir series is Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime.
When I got home from the walk, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing.
…
Monday, I woke up and got the bullshit stuff I had to do but had been dreading/putting off out of the way first. I am not always able to do that, but the Executive Function fairy truly blessed me that day. Then I did school stuff with the kids. It was warm enough that we could do a (partially) outdoor science experiment. First, the kids designed protective casing for eggs, then we took them out in the backyard and dropped them from various heights to see how far they could drop without breaking. We even recorded our results! It was a lot of fun.
After that, I did some witchy stuff to celebrate the first day of spring. I redecorated my altar, lit some incense, did a little spell/ritual. Then I did a Spring Equinox tarot reading for myself, and it was so clear and right-on that I reached out to Emchy and was like: “Hey, the cards are really talking to me today, want me to pull a few for you?” She said yes, so I did.
Later in the afternoon, I took another solo walk. This time I took photos of some of the sidewalk date stamps in my neighborhood. I also spotted the first crocus of the season, and snapped photos of those. Trysted with the wind again. Sang (quietly, but out loud) as I walked—first Jolie Holland’s “Springtime Can Kill You” (because it is one of my all-time favorite songs), then the Counting Crows’ “Sullivan Street” (because I’d thought of something ‘hanging on the air,’ and it made me think of that song).
When I got home, I wrote a short poem, and then I started working on translating it into Gaeilge. I find that when I’m learning a new language, translating my words/thoughts from English into said language helps.
After that, I checked my email. There was one from Derry; his response to the email I’d sent on St. Patrick’s Day. I am not going to quote from it directly, not here; some things have to be kept just for me. Suffice it to say: we’re not trying to hook up or get together or start things all over again, but we’re mutually unsure where that leaves us; he misses and loves me just as much as I do him.
P. and I made dinner together that night. He made the sides and I made the main dish. We’d already planned on making roasted potatoes with dijon and rosemary (because we already had all the ingredients) and green beans with onions and bacon (because we already had the bacon and onions); we’d already decided to have pork chops as the main dish. But the night before I got a craving for French food, so that morning I looked up “French pork chops,” and found a recipe for pan-cooked pork chops with paprika, in an onion-dijon cream sauce. It was amazing.
We finished off the night by having passionate sex. It was a perfect ending to the first day of spring.
…
Tuesday was kinda crappy. The kids were cranky, and I had some unspecified physical yuck happening; my stomach hurt and I was just exhausted the whole day. But I managed to take another walk, this time with C. And it was World Poetry Day, so I read some poetry and worked more on my translation.
…
Wednesday was a happysad day. It was the ten year anniversary of my grandma’s death, so of course I was thinking about her. I was also thinking about Jason Molina. The 18th had been the ten year anniversary of his death, and my grief over losing my grandma is inextricably bound up with my grief over Jason Molina’s death. When my grandma got seriously ill, and we knew she wasn’t going to live much longer, I was deeply depressed, and I was listening to a lot of Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. at the time, and then Jason died, and four days later my grandma died, so yeah, they’re always linked in my mind.
Wednesday was also my dad’s birthday. I wrote a birthday poem for him, and collaged a card to put it in. In the afternoon, P. and I went to a local job fair and found out about some potential employment opportunities for him. Fingers crossed that one of them pans out, because they’re pretty good ones. As we were leaving the job fair, we saw a seagull and a hawk fighting. Then we and the kiddos went to my folks’ house to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We had a nice dinner and some cake, and I gave my dad the card I’d made.
My mom and I reminisced about my grandma (her mom). Then she told me about an old friend of the family who is battling a serious illness. Later, Joni Mitchell came up in conversation, and my mom and I were talking about Joni and her music, and the memories we have attached to it—for both of us, Joni’s songs specifically remind us of being in our twenties. So we were both in our feelings about my grandma and the old family friend and our own pasts and Joni’s music, and we listened to “River” and cried a little together, and it was probably the closest I’ve felt to my mom in a long while.
Later that night, as I lay in the dark trying to fall asleep, I heard coyotes yipping as they wandered through the neighborhood.
…
Thursday, the kids were in bad moods again, and I was feeling anxious about various stuff. But I managed to get past it. I read some, made a collage, drank some tea. I signed up for a temporary money-making side gig. I finished writing/editing the poem about the time Ali and I visited Nancy Spungen’s grave; I have been working on it on-and-off for years, and I’m glad to finally have it in a place where I feel like it’s ready to be out in the world.
Then I watched the crows in the yard. That crow I talked to on St. Patrick’s Day? It returned, and brought its mate, and they are building a nest in the tree that hangs partially over our yard! Maybe that’s what it was making a racket about the first time; maybe it was scouting locations for a nest and was trying to get its mate to come see? In any case, we’re gonna have crow neighbors, and they’re gonna start a family! Oh my god, there are gonna be baby crows! The crows in the area are probably already familiar with me, because I have left out food for them before, and said hello when I’ve been near them; and I’m very glad that my talking to one of them the other day did not deter them from building their nest in/near our yard. (I’ve now started leaving peanuts for them in the backyard, since at least this pair has been coming around that side more often, and they’ve been back every day, but more about that later.)
Thursday night, I had a dream about my old friend J.C. I’ve known him since I was in the sixth grade, and we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives since (again, no falling out, just life drifting us apart), but I haven’t seen him in almost fourteen years now. It was good to see him in the dream, though, and I hope he’s doing well.
…
Friday, I spent most of the day getting ready for that evening’s spoken word gig. I collated zines, gathered together all the merch I wanted to take with me. I gathered together the poems I might want to read; timed a few newer ones/ones I’d never performed at a reading before. I drove to the bank downtown; to get some cash in various smaller denominations of bills, so I’d have change to give when people bought my merch. At one point on the drive, I was behind a car, and I noticed one of their bumper stickers: the background was the pride flag, and the text over it read Make America Gay Again. Awesome. Back at home, I started enacting even more pre-event rituals. (I say ‘event’ because I have long enacted some or all of these rituals whether it’s a spoken word gig, a music gig, a zine fest, an art show, a burlesque performance, a circus performance, etc. etc. Basically, I enact some or all of these rituals, or other, similar ones, whenever I have any kind of event where I’m performing and/or selling stuff, whether it’s in-person or online.) I cut the sleeves off my Keep Books Dangerous tee (a sure sign of spring for me, cutting the sleeves off a t-shirt), and changed out/added to the pins on my leather jacket. I freshened the color in my hair. I did all this while summoning the Undying Spirit of Punk Rock, by blasting the Daycare Swindlers.
Listening to the DC Swindlers of course made me think of N., as he was the lead singer of that band. I know I’ve written about him before, but I was hit with a wave of missing him so hard on Friday. We were platonic soulmates. I was never sexually or romantically attracted to him; as far as I know he was never into me that way either. (In fact I had a huge crush on his girlfriend!) But we just clicked; from the first time we met we had people saying we were like twins. We didn’t look anything alike, but there was just something about us. The way we dressed, our predilections, obviously our taste in women; just our general vibes. Twins. Soulmates. Because not all soulmates are romantic or sexual in nature; in fact, for as many romantic/sexual partners as I’ve had, I’ve had far more platonic soulmates.
Other rituals I enacted pre-gig were putting on my necklace of charms and dabbing a bit of the “Follow Me, Boy” scent on my pulse points.
P. actually got to come with me for once, which was amazing. I’ve said before that my parents are real weird about watching the kids, but this time they offered so P. could go with me, and of course I jumped at the chance.
At about five, we dropped the kiddos at my parents house, then headed north/west, to the far west side of Milwaukee, right on the border of Wauwatosa. Drove up on old familiar roads, saw some excellent graffiti. Parked near the gallery where my reading was, in front of a beautiful soft-yellow house with a pride flag hung from their porch, and a sign in the yard: We Back the Vag. Again, awesome.
The gallery was great, full of funky-cool art. Everyone that worked there was super friendly, so were all the other performers (both featured and open mic). At least half the people there, performers and audience, were some flavor of queer, and there were also several POC and several Jewish people! (I know that last part for a fact because a few of the poets read pieces that mentioned Judaism/being Jewish.) I felt so comfortable and happy. Like, obviously, as a queer person, I get tired of being around only cishets; but even as a white goy, I also get tired of being around only white, (culturally) Christian folks. I guess I just spent enough of my life in big cities and other diverse spaces that I am actually less at ease when everyone looks like me and/or has a similar cultural background. And it’s just fucking boring, ya know? Why would I only wanna be around people who look and act like me?!
Soon after we arrived at the gallery, I was setting up my merch, and the queer kid (I say ‘kid’ because they were in their early 20s, which, now that I’m in my 40s, is definitely in ‘kid’ territory for me) who was the musician for the evening saw my spoken word album—Self Portrait with Ghosts & Trains. “That’s definitely something I would listen to,” they said. “I like ghosts, I like trains.” Pause. “Damn, too bad I only know one train song. I mean, I only know how to play one train song. I know lots of train songs in general.” I told them that I’d made a playlist of train songs a few years ago, and that even though I’d spent time narrowing it down from the original list, it still had 50+ songs on it. “Have you ever seen Metalocalypse?” They asked. “How come all they sings about is trains?” I replied. “That is actually the name of my train song playlist, no kidding.” They laughed, said, “What else is there, really?,” and then we fist bumped.
Then it was time for the open mic part of the evening, and the other featured poet-performers. All of the other poet-performers were really good, in their own ways. Some of them were just good all around, both poetry-wise and performance-wise. Others were not my jam, poetry-wise, but performed their stuff really well. And still others were people whose poems were fantastic but who were fairly new to performing; I know that if they keep at it they will be absolute fire in the not-too-distant future.
Then it was my turn. I opened my set with a poem that is not my own. See, it would have been Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 104th birthday that day, so I opened with “See, it was like this, when…” Then I did a bit of improv. What I mean by that is—I had brought way more poems with me than I could feasibly read, and I had a couple I knew I for sure wanted to read but for the rest it was like, I’ll just go with what I’m vibing with at the time. And some of the other performers inspired some of my choices. One of the poets read some of their sonnets, so I read two of my sonnets; one of the performers opened with an a capella rendition of “Cabaret,” so I read my Cabaret-inspired poem. I also read two of my Wisconsin poems—a Milwaukee one, and my Beast of Bray Road poem; an excerpt from The Loneliest Show On Earth; and the poem about visiting Nancy’s grave. The crowd was so, so attentive and responsive. Like, they were there to hear poetry. I heard some laughter during parts of some of my poems (not laughing at, laughing with), and also some gasps and ohs. Afterward, I got so many compliments. I mean, people were telling me my stuff was funny but also moving, or saying it was like I cast a spell, saying they got chills at certain points; someone noticed the Diane Di Prima influence on my work, someone else noticed the Lynda Hull influence…god damn. I sold some stuff and got a cut of the door, and it was enough to cover my gas money to and from the gig and still have like thirty bucks left over; gotta love that sweet, sweet poetry money. (To quote myself: How no one warned you it’s hard to make a living writing about your heart. How you don’t make a living, but you sometimes make enough money for wine.) I also got approached by the guy who runs the weekly Poetry Nights at Linneman’s River West Inn, and he wants me to be the featured poet there sometime in July or August. I’m so excited! I haven’t been to Linneman’s since early 2009, but back when I lived in MKE I used to perform there all the time—though back then, I performed on the music open mic nights, as that’s when I was more focused on music than poetry. Speaking of music—when the kid I’d talked to earlier in the evening got up for their set, they played the one train song they knew how to play—“Freight Train,” by Elizabeth Cotten—and dedicated it to me. My heart.
P. and I left, then crossed the border into ‘Tosa, and got a round at a beer & whiskey bar called Draft & Vessel. I had an imperial stout that had chai spices in it, and it was so fuckin’ good.
On the drive home, I got to experience that magical thing that happens on the road at night. You know, where you look down at your lap, and the lights coming in through the windshield from above have striated your skin and clothing, and as you move the stripes move, moving stripes of light/shadow/light/shadow. I wish I could think of a better way to describe it; if I can, I’m going to put it in a poem.
…
Saturday we got a bunch of snow. Early spring snow is not uncommon in the upper midwest—in the immortal words of Prince: sometimes it snows in April. And anyway, we had nowhere we needed to be that day, so we just had a cozy-at-home, creative day. P. and I made meal plans for the coming week. I wrote a bit. I made a necklace, inspired by some I’d seen at the gallery and couldn’t afford. I took some knolling photos of my bottlecap, key, and souvenir penny collections; for no other reason than that I felt like it. I recorded an audio version of my VU-inspired poem from Left of the Dial.
My knee and ankle were hurting all day. The poetry reading had been packed full and there were only about eight chairs available, and there were people in their sixties and seventies there, and I never think of my disabilities as real enough, so I gave the chairs to those I thought needed them more, and I stood the whole time. And yeah, I paid for it, bodily. It sucked to be in pain all the next day, but I did kind of chuckle at the “I’m getting old”-ness of it all. Like, I used to go wild in the pit at punk shows and maybe I’d get banged up and sore but I’d be mostly okay (with the notable exception being that time I broke my ankle in the pit), and now I stand for a couple hours at a poetry reading and I’m in pain for days.
I thought of Sinclair, another old flame, that day; possibly because of that kid playing “Freight Train” the night before, as that was a staple of Sinclair’s repertoire. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in somewhere close to 14 years now, and I haven’t even web-searched him in a decade. Unlike with some of my other exes, it’s not that I fear I’ll decide to contact him and open everything up again, it’s that— Well, I’ve worried that he might be dead or in prison. He was a sweetheart, genuinely one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever known—but he was also an outlaw, and he lived a rough life. He was a queer train-hopping hobo/crusty/circus performer/musician; he was often homeless, and had bouts of trouble with the law and various addictions. Saturday, I decided to look him up to see what I could find…and I was relieved to know that he’s not just living but seemingly thriving, back in his hometown of New Orleans, where he just had a music gig on March 23rd. I’m so relieved. Just knowing that he’s out there, still doin’ his thing, is enough for me.
That night, P. and I had hot, wild, rough sex, and I fell asleep more easily than I normally do. Unfortunately, I did have a terrible dream that woke me up in the middle of the night, and then it took me hours to get back to sleep. I don’t even want to go into detail about it because it was so gruesome and bloody and involved terrible bodily harm being visited on some of my loved ones, including one of my kids. I actually had to go into D.’s room and make sure he was okay, and sit watching him breathe for a while, before I could calm down at all. I don’t have vivid, horrific dreams as much now as I did when I was in my teens and twenties, but when they come? They’re fucking doozies. A lot of horror doesn’t even scare me because I’ve had dreams that were just as graphic, but even worse, because the harm was being visited on me and/or people I love.
…
Sunday, I woke up to the notification that someone had bought some stuff from my online shop, which is always a nice thing to wake up to.
Later in the morning, it snowed a little more, and I saw the crows again. And this time, they’d brought a friend. My first thought was: “They’re a polycule!” Which, okay, I know crows don’t work that way, but I recently read something that said crows are ‘socially monogamous but genetically promiscuous’ so maybe? In any case, they were with a third crow; probably another member of their murder. And they were playing! I watched them leap down from the tree to the top of the neighbors’ garage roof, then slide to the bottom edge near the eaves, from which they’d fly back up to the tree and do it all over again. I was so fucking thrilled; I’ve seen videos of crows playing before, but I’ve never seen it so clearly in person. I wanted to get my own video, but of course by the time I got my phone and got ready to record, they’d stopped. I know, pics or it didn’t happen, but this has just been one of the many amazing things I’ve witnessed or experienced in my life where I do not have any ‘factual’ documentation, and it doesn’t even matter because I know it happened and it lives inside me, now.
In the late afternoon, D. had the worst meltdown he’s had in a while. His anger is getting worse as he edges towards adolescence, but at least now he has a therapist that can help us through it.
For dinner, P. made shrimp, pork, and andouille jambalaya, with a side of greens. We had sex again that night; this time, it was slow, lazy, and deeply sensual.
…
Monday morning, D. had his therapy appointment, then I did schoolwork with the kiddos. Then I got dinner going in the crockpot (one of my favorite go-to meals: Moroccan chicken tagine with chickpeas and apricots) while listening to my favorite radio station; they played banger after banger after banger, and I discovered a bunch of new (to me) favorite songs.
Monday evening, before dinner, we filed our taxes. We’re not getting back as much as I’d hoped (because the fucking Republicans decided to axe the expanded Child Tax Credit), but we’re still getting enough that it will make a positive difference in our lives over the next couple months.
That night, we had sex; wild and hot and fast again, that time.
…
Despite all the sex we’ve been having, I woke up ridiculously horny on Tuesday. I was also really restless and a little bit anxious, but I had to do all this sitting-at-my-desk bullshit like attending the Zoom training session for my new side gig, and applying for energy assistance. In between sit-down tasks, I worked through my restless, horny energy by either pacing around or jacking off. Seriously, it was like, bullshit task, walk up and down the stairs a few times; bullshit task, lock myself in the bathroom to jack off; and so on. I ended up jacking off three times that day. (Twice during the day, once at night in bed after P. had fallen asleep; his chronic back pain was acting up so we couldn’t mess around that night, alas.)
The best things of that day were: 1. Finding out I was such a hit at the gallery on Friday that they want me to be one of their features again in May. Like, according to the person who is my point of contact there, even after I left, people were coming up to her saying: “Wow, Jessie was amazing; when can I see them again?!” 2. The burgers we made for dinner that night: blue cheese, bacon, Buffalo sauce, and tomato burgers.
…
Yesterday I clocked a couple hours for my new side gig. It’s kinda tedious, but at least I can do it on my own time, and I need the money.
After that, I did school stuff with the kiddos, including some art time. They both painted, and I sat down to draw something that I thought was kind of inspired by Paradise Lost (cuz I’m on a Milton kick lately) and Nick Cave, but which turned out to be a figure straight out of that horrifying dream I had on Saturday. And I am actually entirely freaked out by the drawing; I had to hide it so I won’t see it.
I spent most of the afternoon laying in bed, drinking tea and reading, as my sinuses were acting up and I couldn’t do much else.
Fortunately, I felt better by evening. For dinner, I made fish tacos (with shredded lettuce, pico de gallo, fresh avocado, and lime wedges for garnish) with beans and rice on the side.
And P. and I got to have sex last night, and it was great, again, as it has been lately.
…
Today I woke up restless, horny, and anxious, again. Mostly the anxiety stemmed from a phone call I had to make. Before I made the call, I did yoga, ate a small breakfast, and took my ashwagandha and magnesium supplements, which helped ease my anxiety a little. Then I made the call, and it sucked, but not as bad as I had feared it would, and hey, at least then it was done.
Late morning, I took the kids to the library. They got to play in the play area for a while; I talked with a mom who was there with her three kiddos (all of them true gingers!). We checked out a bunch of books, as per usual. Then came home to make lunch—mini quesadillas, plus avocado & pico de gallo & beans & rice left over from last night.
After lunch, I decided to take a walk. It’s chilly and a bit windy today, but it had been over a week since I took a walk, and I get even antsier/more restless without them. So I bundled up, and took some hot coffee in my travel mug to keep me warm.
When I stepped out the back door, my crow friend was in the tree where it’s building its nest. It saw me and cawed, then went flying toward the front yard, like it wanted me to follow. I was like: “Oooh, side quest!” When I got out to the sidewalk, I saw the crow in the front yard a few houses down, pulling at something in the mud. I got to the crow just as it pulled the object free, and I saw it was this long, silvery piece of something—like maybe tinsel, or part of a mylar balloon. I said: “Oh, good for you, you found a shiny for your mate!” The crow then flew back towards our backyard.
As I said above, I’ve been feeding the crows in this neighborhood on and off for years, and occasionally saying hello to them, but I do not understand why this particular crow (and by extension, its mate and family/friends) has decided we’re besties. I do not understand, but I am fucking delighted.
I took my walk around the block, got home, promptly locked myself in the bathroom and jacked off.
Tonight, for dinner, P. made chicken cacciatore. The recipe he uses has a white (white wine, lemon juice, olive oil) sauce as opposed to the usual tomato-based chicken cacciatore, and it’s so good. And I’m hoping we get to fuck again tonight, cuz like I said, I’m wildly, insatiably horny these days.
…
This weekend is looking like it will be another jam-packed one. I have to meet up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned for Ali’s birthday. There’s a couple activist things I’m participating in; tomorrow’s rally for queer youth, plus some voter outreach stuff I signed up to do prior to next Tuesday’s very important election.
Saturday is the start of National Poetry Month/NaPoWriMo. I plan to attempt a 30/30, because I generated so much work last April (and had fun doing it). I’m also working up some curriculum to teach both the kids about reading and writing poetry, at age-appropriate levels.
One of my first projects for NaPoWriMo is gonna be trying to finish translating that poem I wrote last week from English to Gaeilge. It’s been tricky because, though it’s a short poem, it has an odd structure that does not lend itself easily to Gaeilge. Also, my grasp on Gaeilge is rudimentary at best. But then, that’s why I’m doing this, to help me learn.
Next week, I’m hoping to finish getting the New Wave anthology ready for print.
…
Other than all that? Well, there have been more realizations and epiphanies.
I’ve been getting braver, again. Doing things even if I’m scared to; because I remembered that most of the best things in my life have come from moments of “Am I scared? Yeah, but fuck it, I’ll do it anyway.”
I’ve been reincorporating elements of my old life, my old personality. From things as simple as drinking lapsang souchong again, taking walks whenever I can, rereading old favorite books, rediscovering old favorite albums; to things more esoteric. For so long I’d been lamenting the days when I was a mystical romantic lovesick dork, wishing I could be that way again but thinking I was too old. But now I’m allowing myself to behave that way again. I’m romanticizing my daily life, singing as I walk down the street, talking with the crows, cavorting with the wind.
A lot of those things (the tea, the walks, the mystical romantic lovesick dorkiness) sort of rhyme with a very specific time in my life, namely 2006-2008, and it’s funny that I’ve been asked to do a reading at Linneman’s, which was a place I frequented in those years. I know, you can’t go home again—except, sometimes you can.
And I’m also glad that I’m managing to reintegrate the positive aspects of those days without the self-destructive ones (i.e., drinking to excess and hooking up with people I didn’t even really like very much).
Another thing I’m reincorporating into my life is the DIY? Because I Gotta attitude. It’s not that I’ve ever fully lost it, but I’ve been doing a lot of it lately: things like making that necklace for myself, writing the poem and making the collage-card for my dad, etc. I used to get down on myself because I’ve never had enough money to buy gifts for all my loved ones for every occasion, but now I’m like, wait, this is actually a good thing about me. Not the lack-of-money part, but… I might not have money to buy people gifts all the time, but I do things like make them art, write them poems, make them personalized zines, make them mix tapes or playlists, bake them bread or cookies, give them veggies from my garden, give them tarot readings, etc. That’s actually pretty fucking cool.
I’ve been re-redefining success re: my writing career. Once again reminding myself that as long as my words get out in the world and the people who need them find them, that’s the most important thing—doesn’t so much matter what route those words take to get there. Reminding myself that I can look for agents for certain projects, submit to the more established lit journals, enter big name contests, etc., but that I can also continue to publish my own zines and chapbooks, and send stuff out to indie mags and presses. I don’t have to choose! I can try it all!
Speaking of not having to choose—I’ve been re-embracing the fluid nature of both my gender/gender expression and my sexuality.
For a while I was reading too much of that baeddelism stuff, and even though I objectively know it’s bullshit, it kinda got to me. I started thinking to myself: “You’re not currently pursuing medical transition, you have long hair, and you still wear skirts and makeup sometimes. Those people are right—you’re just a penis-obsessed cis woman LARPing as nonbinary.” And then I was like, wait. First of all, though medical transition is an important part of transitioning for many trans people, it is not the only valid way to transition. Second of all, plenty of men, trans and cis, have long hair or wear skirts or makeup; why am I letting a handful of people who are basically TIRFs (trans-inclusive radical feminists) dictate how I present and what that means about my gender? My gender and sexuality have always been fluid, that’s just who and how I am; that’s why I have always preferred the term queer—because it states that I am not cishet, but doesn’t box me into some narrow definition of gender or sexuality that might change the next moment, anyway. So, once again: I’m here, I’m queer, get used to it. And: You cannot misgender me in a way that matters.
Speaking of fluid sexuality—the way my desires are changing lately is fascinating. Some things that used to turn me on no longer do it for me; other things that I was never into are now super hot.
These past two weeks have made me think of that Aaron Cometbus quote, about the kind of days I’ve been having: Simple days but with little surprises and long walks and good luck.
And it’s spring, it’s spring! Still chilly, but it stays lighter later every night, and the birds are out squawking and singing at all hours, and of course I’m restless and horny, it’s spring!
Overall, I’ve been full of gratitude and joy. I have amazing friends, all over the world. I get so overwhelmed with love for my kids, and for P. Seriously, every day I look at P. and think how lucky I am to have him as my partner in life; as the person I get to raise kids with and have hot sex with and cook good food with and wake up to every morning. And every day, I get to read books and listen to music and make art and write.
Of course things aren’t perfect, with the kids or with P., and I’m tired of being broke, and there’s the anxiety and executive dysfunction, and there’s a lot of bad shit in the world. But I have plans to make my and my family’s future better. And I’m getting more involved with activism again—apparently, when I allow myself to do things that bring me joy, I have more spoons for helping other people! Shocking, I know.
And I cry a lot, and I get nostalgically sad and long for old faces and places I once knew, and I get restless and long for new faces and places and adventures. And my heart breaks every day, from the beauty of the world, and the pain. But if that’s the tax for being a poet, for being a mystical romantic lovesick dork; if that’s the tax for not being closed off to any part of life—then I will gladly, gladly pay it.
#ashtrayfloors#dear livejournal#haha#this post is so long#and it's actually SHORTER than initially planned#because#well for one i'd started writing about a few things that had happened over the past two weeks that were kinda bad/annoying#but then partway through just got bored of writing about them#so i took those paragraphs out#and for two#i wrote this several-paragraph long backstory#about my old friend j.c. who i had the dream about#like the history of our friendship/how i first knew him#and realized that it didn't really belong in a journal entry#but in fact should be expanded as a story for my zine eventually
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
OH you should do the speech ones for heheh :)c all of them. also 37
>:3c
31. What does your OC sound like? What is the tone of their voice, their cadence, and their vocabulary; are they particularly profane or eloquent? Are they funny, and if so, what’s their sense of humor? Are they long-winded or do they speak little, and if it’s the latter, is that only because they’re concise or is it because they have genuine trouble speaking?
coeur: very heavily, messily accented. her first two languages were vault dweller patois and socal wasteland spanish. her english is Good like her vocabulary and diction are well developed shes very eloquent but she thinks in french and spanish forever and always. sounds kind of like marion cotillard. shes rarely funny on purpose but she loves to hear what other people have to say and laugh at their jokes. as the new king of vegas she will occasionally make longer speeches to the wider public but prefers to just have normal, personal conversations with people in small groups or 1on1
liu: boneyard surfer accent. refuses to say cowabunga on ethical grounds but does call people dude like a lot. like a lot a lot. her voice is very soft and quiet. she rarely swears unless shes very emotional which happens like once a year. Not Funny. Didnt Laugh. she speaks as little as possible to everyone except for her adopted super mutant family in jacobstown. this is out of lack of respect for most peoples thoughts and opinions.
cassie: her vocabulary is large, her diction is well developed, her eloquence is notable and she uses NONE of it. she doesnt want to. the wasteland has freed her from societal expectations of "coherency" and "politeness" and she is LOVING it. also swearing. fresh out of the vault she swears like a sailor just cus she can but even after it loses its novelty and she calms down she still does cuss a lot even by wasteland standards. her general style of speech is very chirpy and excitable but also prone to rambling. a lot of people find her excruciatingly annoying but the few that dont think shes either adorable or insane. everybody is correct. shes funny, but rarely on purpose. her jokes are absurd and usually only comprehensible to Her alone or someone who spends like a lot of time with her. that still doesnt make them funny but she doesnt give a shit. you gotta roll with the absurdity of her very existence
cassiopeia: the default female player voice is pretty close, but if it was a heavy smoker (she is a heavy smoker). charismatic in the way that ashur from the pitt and caesar are charismatic: warlords making foul promises. eloquent if she wants to be. profane if she wants to be. surprisingly, bleakly funny. dark jokes that come out of nowhere and make one double take that they even heard it. prefers as concise speech as possible, detests wasted time.
ghost: often mistaken for a ghoul when one cant see that she isnt; voice fucking Shredded. ravaged. vocal chords all fucked up. when filtered through the gas mask shes usually wearing her voice is very muffled, raspy, and quiet. taking the mask off doesnt help much, if anything she talks even quieter and more mumbly. ghost is afraid of speaking. she is afraid of other people almost all the time. as one can imagine, this isnt super conducive to jokes, or verbosity. with the mask on, her abruptness is often misconstrued as rudeness, but with the mask off its really obvious that shes just utterly mortified to even be there.
33. What is something that could be said to your character that would be unforgivable, either by someone in general or by someone specific? How would they respond?
coeur: anything that threatens harm to a child, or supports enslavement. she will kill you for either without hesitation
liu: literally nothing. liu doesnt have any feelings left that can be hurt. (pretty much the only people she has anything like respect or affection for are the super mutants in jacobstown who have functionally adopted her as their horrible little sister, and Ulysses. if they rejected her it would absolutely break whats left of her heart, but the specifics of what they could say dont really matter)
cassie: very similar to liu in that she could not physically give less of a shit about what some random on the street thinks of her or the world at large. all that being said if someone who knew her family brings up their deaths either as a rhetorical strategy or to insult her she will snap and try to kill them immediately but the list of people who Could do that is short so shes generally pretty safe
cassiopeia: dont fucking bring up her husband or her son. good outcome: she just leaves and never speaks to you again. bad outcome: you are fed to a pack of rabid dogs by the polycule.
ghost: oh my god. shes like a kicked puppy when it comes to insulting her. she takes all of it super personally and assumes its her fault. really just being a slaver/raider/abuser is where she draws the line and she will probably attack for that, but on an individual level you can say literally anything to her
32. Is your character a good liar, or can they manipulate people well? Are they able to conceal what they mean or what they’re feeling, or are they an open book whether they mean to be or not?
coeur: fantastic liar and manipulator; hates it sooooooooo much. will always rather tell the truth and proceed on trust/good faith but she can and well if she has to. she can control herself outwardly very well but her breaking point is the suffering of other people, at which point her rage and grief wells up out of her and registers as pain on her face and in her voice
liu: rarely has cause to actually lie about anything, because she rarely has cause to manipulate anyone for any reason. shes gigantic, unkillable, emotionless and straightforward. everything she wants, she takes or abandons.
cassie: HORRIBLE liar and terrible manipulator. open book at all times no matter what. her only saving grace is her inherent weirdness; the double bluff of 'is she fucking with me on purpose or is that her face?' to sow doubt. people who think shes insane are usually kind of afraid of her so they just do what she says regardless.
cassiopeia: liar. manipulative. to everyone. about everything. because she wants something; because she can. excellent at concealing her emotions and tells. can be a brick wall if she wants.
ghost: can kind of lie with the mask on, but wont even try with it off. to a degree shes an open book but the only emotion that really registers is Turmoil and honestly it could be about anything. mask is a built in blank wall she relies on A Lot
37. How good is your character with their hands or fingers? Do they have a light, gentle touch, or are they hard or uncoordinated? Does your character have any dexterous talents?
coeur: excellent pickpocket. great at hand stuff. would make a good pianist if she bothered to learn but for the moment is content with fingering her suite of paramours. a more than competent seamstress (makes and maintains almost everything she wears and has since her mama taught her to sew) but very few people actually learn that
liu: big giant super mutant hands. really excellent engineer and mechanic but cannot modulate for skin to skin contact well at All. fists like sledgehammers. beware the sex stuff
cassie: little sneak thief. long pointy fingies. good at stealing and picking locks; tossup at hands stuff; competent triage surgeon. poke poke.
cassiopeia: lockpick, but not pickpocket. dislikes touching people. moderately dexterous but not more than the average person. likes to fuck around with gear mods but thats not the same as being Good at it.
ghost: real clammy. real awkward. excellent at picking locks and pockets alike, but her handshake is just awful. talented carver of bone and wood both; creates her own religious effigies and fetishes. fair talent at makeup artistry provided one wants really elaborate face paint in a clown like persuasion. or maybe beijing opera. also a melee and unarmed specialist. honestly underestimated in the tactile talents by both outside parties and herself
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
For your consideration (Mono)
It’s that time again!!! Fancuries season! Everyone be doing it so might as well make a little for-your-Consideration post for this years @fancuries.
First off! Kinda just wanna direct people to my Toyhouse since i have 3095604060 series and a lot of them i dont talk about as often, even if they do exist lol.
I have left some out since i don’t feel like it’s fair for them potentionally nominated if i don’t have much for them ;v;; hope that makes sense lol doesn’t seem fair.
Now... don’t get me wrong... this is gonna be LOOOONGGGGG....
_______________________________________________________
Prime Pretty Cure
My ‘main’ series. It has light/darkness, and elemental thematic, and themes about overcoming and going against expectations. It’s about four evil goddesses who are reincarnated into heroic Cures, and have to go up against the darkness they created basically. A lot of reincarnation fun lol.
(you can read the story here)
Radiant Lumiere / Radiant Lumiere ‘Ray Bennet’ (white/rainbow/pink)
Main-character(?), and a being of pure light. Was basically a princess and now has to deal with living on a new planet, and discovering a lot of new emotions, like friendship lol. They also have to deal with the fact that they are not as Special and Perfect as they think they are.
Cure Splash / Morgan (blue)
Salty bitch who loves dancing. Kinda tsundere about friendship, and likes being alone and doing things by herself, but slowly starts enjoying the company of her new friends lol.
Cure Terra / Beryl (green)
Upbeat and cheerful mood-maker. Wild-child and loves being in nature, as well making lucky charms. Cherishes friendship deeply and will do anything for them.
Cure Ember / Hanan (red)
Generally level-headed nerd, who struggles with her internal anger issues. Despite not being the first to transform/join, she takes up the leader-role among the group, by virtue of having probably the most braincells,,, aka 2.
Cure Gale / Connie Sokolov (purple)
Started out being in the villain’s grasp, some angst, and was saved early on. Very shy and soft, and struggles with big anxiety but she slowly becomes more and more brave, in small ways. Loves drawing, especially landscapes/skies.
_______________________________________________________
Oyasumi Pretty Cure Z
[Dreams, Sleep, Sky]
A veteran cure needs help to save her home, and to prevent a group of evil cures to put everyone into a deep slumber. Luckily, two teens are here to help!
- Cure Luna / Nemu Yozora (gray+pink)
Dumb 12 year old. Very adventurous and full of boundless energy, always out and about, and searching for excitement. Adores her grandma.
- Cure Stella / Mayumi ‘Mayu’ Hoshizawa (yellow)
Mature and level-headed, and with a love for fashion and space (among five billion other things). Can get a little too over her head, but is generally kind and protective of others. Falls in love easily.
- Cure Cloud / Sayo (blue)
Sheep mascot and a 'veteran' Cure (has never been in a true battle, only training). A disaster, and always tries to act stronger and more capable than she is... but in reality is very sensitive and easily scared. She adores hugs and naps.
_______________________________________________________
Happy Haunt Pretty Cure
[Halloween and Monsters]
The main character is a regular human idiot who gets isekai-ed to the monster world. She is more like the mascot and somehow is able to give five monsters the powers to become pretty cure :O
- Cure Inferno / Iggy Flamel (red)
Laid-back and relaxed demon who just lazes around all day. Always smiling and is hard to read because of it. Can come across as a bit indifferent and passive-agressive at times, and doesn’t really like humans. Loves spicy donuts lol
- Cure Vitalis / Cattleya (blue)
Lively and hard-working zombie who wants to be helpful to others, and lives with Iggy, as the two share a history and are very close. Cattleya is innocent and a little slow, but always stays optimistic.
- Cure Skelet / Donna Boone (green)
Charismatic skeleton working at the local pub (which she often performs at too). Despite being a bit self-absorbed and arrogant, Donna has a sisterly personality and a strong sense of justice, and will stand up for those who can’t.
- Cure Arachne / Frida Lace (purple)
Creepy nerd spider-girl who is a writer under a secret pen name. Most of the things she does is for ‘inspiration‘. While she seems a little meek, she can be quite sly and pushy. Has no sense for personal space.
- Cure Wolf / Verena ‘Rena’ Lovett (yellow)
Large, very strong... but also extremely shy and submissive. Underneath her timid shell, lies a short temper, and when transformed becomes a raging beast (until development hehe). Also loves getting pets.
can’t forget the main character(TM) Kaede Akizuki. She isn’t a cure but just a dumb human who is basically the mascot of the group lol. She is fearless (almost to a dangerous length) and energetic and loves horror. Isn’t all that sad about being stuck in a magical monster world, since she doesn’t have to go back to her shitty retail job. awesome.
_______________________________________________________
Heart~to~Heart Pretty Cure
[Types of Love, Angels, Life and Death, Found Familyyyyyy!!!]
Two spirits get promised a second chance at life,,,, if they become precure and defeat the source of what is corrupting spirits into attacking the living. Now, they have to pretend to be a mother and daughter... and then their neighbour gets involved too... welp.
- Cure Dear / Ema (pink)
Gentle and sweet, but a bit overbearing at times. She is trying very hard to keep up with the current trends and be ‘hip with the kids‘ but it’s not working. Has to pretend to be Madoka’s mom, but finds Madoka’s attitude difficult to deal with.
- Cure Amity / Madoka (blue)
Emotional and stubborn, who, despite claiming she is independent, cares a lot about other people’s opinions. She has a vulnerable side and had trouble opening up to others. Really likes fashion and cute trinkets. Wants to make the most out of her second chance.
- Cure Prayer / Risa (orange)
Very early late-addition Cure who is not a spirit. Is just the duo’s nosy neighbour. She appears to be able to have a sixth sense and vaguely sense spirits, which causes her to get involved. Risa is very carefree, has a new job every day, and has all the hot gossip from town. Madoka thinks she’s very cool, unlike Ema lol
Ah yes, the series that truly made me kisekae death lol. their design were so hard but hey!! they’re here and i’m proud of them hehe
_______________________________________________________
Tokimeki! PrecureLand!
[Theme Parks, Attractions, Happiness]
A magical theme park suddenly appears in our world! But thanks to a villain, it’s missing most of its attractions, and thus can’t collect any funergy to spread happiness around. Oh no!!! This is where the precure come in hehe. dumbasses now have to both look after a theme park and fight evil...
This series actually has a powerpoint lol. it has a lot more info in there! :D
Cure Loop / Henny Vreugdeberg (pink)
Quiet but an earnest and creative girl with a special interest in theme parks. Has trouble expressing herself, so she uses her colorful clothing to help. Her catchphrase is 'success.'
Cure Bash / Riki Hayami (orange)
An outgoing, gutsy, and extremely athletic daredevil who is a vlogger, mostly doing wild challenges. She's kinda reckless at times and not afraid of anything... except ghosts.
Cure Twirl / Camellia ‘Cam’ Theodora Gray (green)
Cam comes across as mature and charismatic, but secretly looks down on others and is quite arrogant. They are intelligent and business-oriented, and eventually start helping the park from behind the scenes. Secretly is afraid to ride most attractions.
Cure Scream / Dolores ‘Dolly’ (blue)
The personification of the Fear Bastion attraction that closed down. Dolly's emotions were exploited by the big bad, but she realises he's only using her for his own gain. She's a ghost with a timid and gloomy nature, but will call you a bitch behind your back lol.
Royal Parade / Queen Maisie Funfun Festivale Amuse Miracure (purple/rainbow)
Extra Hero and basically the 'Mickey Mouse' of PrecureLand. Starts out of a lifeless little toy, but eventually comes back to life. Maisie is very classy and sweet, but can be snooty and a bit old-fashioned. She adores sweets.
_______________________________________________________
PHEW... that’s a handful that I at least showed off a bit. but there are so many more series, which i feel i havent shown off much yet (but really should, but that’s for later haha). Don’t be scared to have a look at my toyhouse >3< bye bye! and thank you!! and let’s make this year’s fancuries a good taimu <3
#Precure Fanseries#fancuries 2022#Fancuries#Prime Pretty Cure#Oyasumi Pretty Cure Z#Happy Haunt#Heart~to~Heart Pretty Cure#tokimeki! precureland#among others haha#blablaba nobody cares mono#this post is so long#i wanted to be short....#and i didn't even touch upon the mascots or villains or items or anything....#rip
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Zoozve, my beloved
#i cannot tell you how much this made me smile just bc it's so full of love#moon#venus#zoozve#long post#sorry about that it's very long but it's very entertaining i hope you enjoy this lil zoozve gem haha#astronomy#astrophysics#space
117K notes
·
View notes
Text
ok so for those of you who don’t know, there’s this twitter account of a japanese local hero mascot named dentman who went viral recently due to this tweet
but yeah he saw the tweet. and his response went viral as well (which is how i found his account)
and he just has like. hourly posts reminding you to brush your teeth
oh and his rival? his name is mr. mutans. whenever dentman posts he makes a post of his own, ofc
but THAT’S NOT ALL. literally while making this post i found a THIRD ACCOUNT that’s all about taking your meds
safe to say i’m losing my mind
anyway the point of all this was that people are ALREADY beginning to draw them ship art 😭
and the reactions are everything
I CANT ADD ANY MORE IMAGES BUT TRUST ME THIS IS SO FUNNY
toxic one-sided dentman yaoi wasn’t on my 2024 bingo card but it DEFINITELY IS NOW!
#what the fluoride#toxic doomed yaoi#this is so funny#dentman#mr. mutans#mr.mutans#mutans#ohga man#ohga#twitter#tokusatsu#japanese mascots#local heroes#🍬#🦷#🍬🦷#long post#50k#60k#70k
78K notes
·
View notes
Text
Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety
If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you
If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
People are allowed to be wrong about you
If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect
Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it
The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something
You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it
Most things are better after you sleep on them
Most things are better after you have a meal
Most things are better after you shower
Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"
If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction
If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction
"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier
If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two
You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction
When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery
People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves
If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it
If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable
If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it
If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it
Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step
Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary
If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike
Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP
No one cares what you look like
If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"
People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company
You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you
If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly
You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will
Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable
Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it
Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier
And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
#anxiety#long post#i have been an adult for the better part of a decade and it has gotten SO much easier as i internalized these#swearing tw
45K notes
·
View notes
Text
I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
#shut up e#long post#Saturday thoughts#this has been in my drafts for a week haha#also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong#forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong#because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation#even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it#unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???
25K notes
·
View notes
Text
Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:
15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)
2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)
1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.
None of the hijackers were from Iraq.
None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.
None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.
#9/11#serious post#not a shitpost#this should be one of the first things kids learn when they learn about the 9/11 attacks#politics#this is just...it's such an essential and brazen fact and i rarely see basic outrage over it#i want outrage. i want fury. i want disgust over the way fundamental facts are disguised and discarded and downplayed#because there are things we should KNOW. basic fact we should ALL KNOW. and they are tucked away in the footnotes.#and no this is NOT to put the blame on other middle eastern countries#we know this was carried out by a specific terrorist organization not a national government#but King George the Second decided (and was encouraged by his cabinet!) to invade a nation!#a nation that was not at all related or responsible!!!#a dictatorship to be sure--but a dictatorship that King George the First had been happy to support#so what changed? why did we go in guns blazing to DEMOLISH a country *we had NO PLANS OF REPAIRING*???#well. because they wanted a villain didn't they. a nice clean war. clarity of purpose. us the heroes against them the villains#and when you're in that mindframe--truth is irrelevant. you can pick your villain (your victim) by rolling a roulette wheel#truth is irrelevant#worse: to the people in charge#truth is a HINDRANCE#'Alternative facts' existed long before it became a catchphrase#facts don't matter. truth doesn't matter. the impulses of a handful of volatile & rich & power-high people--that's History. congratulations
32K notes
·
View notes
Text
By Your Side
#botw#botw fanart#breath of the wild#breath of the wild fanart#post botw#botw fan comic#totk#totk fanart#this happens between botw and totk#I was thinking about how link is still zelda’s knight in totk#even though after botw there isn’t any obligation for link to stay#so this is like#missing scene#headcanon#yea#the legend of zelda#zelda#zelda fanart#loz#long post
32K notes
·
View notes
Text
y’know what? FUCK you. i’m putting your ass in the control group. *injects you with boring saline instead of the fun and exciting glowing green goo i originally had planned*
#also using a 14 gauge needle on you#mad scientist#mad science#sciencecore#villaincore#evilcore#unethical science#lab records#yes i know you’re not supposed to tell your test subjects which group they’re in. however i can disregard whichever good science practice#i so please as long as it’s for the bit#addendum: GIRL HELP MY POST
54K notes
·
View notes
Text
I think it's sad that most people always think of bottlenoses as the "classic dolphin" since its the one that's always used for shows, and always think of dolphins as just straight grey when in reality there's so many varieties with so many different amazing patterns
Look at the common dolphin! They have a gorgeous X pattern and even some dull yellow/gold!!
Hourglass dolphins have gorgeous white streaks
Spinner dolphins have really pretty banding as well, AND they have a really sleek cute silhouette!
The atlantic spotted dolphin!!! Theyre spotted!!!!!!
and the pantropical spotted too!!
Dusky dolphins have a gorgeous airbrush look going on like straight out of a 2000s fantasy illustration
Striped dolphins sure have stripes!! How cool!!
And these I've shown you aren't even all of them at all, there are so many of them:
There's so so so many different types of dolphins people dont know about this isnt even all of them and some are SO gorgeous and underrated because people just dont know they exist so I'm here to fix that
#ocean#dolphins#cetaceans#long post#thunderclap#I WANTED TO MAKE THIS POST FOR A WHILE I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO IT#YOU WILL KNOW ABOUT THE WORLDS DOLPHINS!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!#Everyone loves dolphins but everyone also always thinks of bottlenoses only#and i love bottlenoses BUT THERES SO MANY MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#best of#wow this took off
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
scans from a minizine from late last year! risograph with collage. part of a bigger project on trans relationships to the body thru cyborgs but i got distracted making pinups
more scans
#HI WORLD. i havent posted on here in so long.... life stuff getting in the way of me making work i liked#but im back on it and excited to share the stuff im working on now yayy#trans art#cyborgs#risograph#my art
9K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
humzadesigns
Humza Designs
afcands04
Wonderland for me, HA!
evilmaxjr
Time Too Evil
xolauris
xo, lauris
internet-turtle
The Internet Turtle