COUCH

I dont want a career and I hate working. There I said it

lips: soft face: soft hair: soft heart: soft

lips: chapped face: oily hair: greasy heart: clogged

palms: sweaty knees: weak arms: heavy vomit: on his sweater already mom’s: spaghetti

Hair: Wack Gear: Wack Jewlery: Wack Footstance: Wack The way that he talks: Wack Way he doesn’t even like to smile: Wack Me: Tight as fuck

Confidence: A must Cockiness: A plus Edginess: A rush Edges: I like em rough

Fresh paint job: check Fresh inside: check Is the outside frame in the trunk wide: yes Are the rims big: what? Do it ride good: good

10 percent: luck 20 percent: skill 15 percent: concentrated power n will 5 percent: pleasure 50 percent: pain 100 percent: reason to remember the name

all power to immigrants and refugees glory to women and people of color long live black power and yellow peril

uhhhhhh maybe don’t reblog pics of joanne the sc*mmer at the vmas tonight or like , ever, since he is a cis man whose entire “persona” revolves around mocking trans women (particularly trans woc) and trans sex workers…….

some info about how his persona is a transmisogynist caricature of trans women sex workers

his whole fucking shtick is predicated on the idea that trans women/black women/sex workers are scammers, deceivers, liars, manipulators and y’all don’t take a fucking second to think about how fucking cruel and damaging perpetuating those stereotypes are goddamn

and that’s literally like, one super shitty thing, not mentioning his antisemitism, his use of epithets against asian and latinxs, et al, like, gawd

:( 

still 23 days left for woody allen to die in 2016

likes charge reblogs cast

It’s hard to find words. I have played in so many spaces with precarious floors and beams and stairs and not enough exits and certainly no sprinklers. Warehouses, squats, basements, rooftops, barns. Playing music saves my life. People tell me listening to music saves their lives. People telling me that my music saved their life saves my life even more. And we take the risks. Playing and listening in unsafe spaces. Because when we feel like we are dying anyway the risks don’t seem as risky as the risks we already face every day. The risk of self destructing. There aren’t enough places for us to gather. Our favorite places get turned into parking lots. So many clubs with their overhead and their staffs and their contracts and their lack of inclusivity and lack of tolerance and their age restrictions and their bars and their bigots. Those spaces are also unsafe just in different ways. Those spaces break you if you don’t make em the money. Because it’s always about the money. The fucking money. They will make you feel like a failure. Like a piece of shit. But all we can do is art. So we meet underground. We lurk in the shadows. And there it isn’t about success or failure. We sing and scream and cry and laugh and dance and group hug like cinnamon rolls and tell each other to get home safe and stay safe and be careful because the world is scary and the world is risky. We know we have to take care of each other. So we meet in warehouses. Where we can just love on each other and escape from all the scariness and sadness. We take care of each other in our unsafe spaces that can feel so much safer than your safest spaces. Imagine you were on a sinking ship. And there is only one lifeboat. And someone screams that there is a chance the lifeboat might tip over. You’ll take that chance. If I hadn’t had people inviting me to their unconventional venues over the years I would have been dead a long long time ago. We’re not trying to put each other in danger. We are trying to save each other’s lives. We love each other so much. I love you all.

im buying this when mi fat ass size is back in stock 

WHITE. PEOPLE. 

voidsandstars:

if you are trans and you need help getting your documents in order by Jan #translawhelp on twitter will direct you to some lawyers offering pro bono help

“i want a dyke for president” (1992) by zoe leonard

i felt like this was fitting to post today