pacific rim fucks severely for a lot of reasons but my favorite is that it opens with "the lizard aliens are unionizing so we built robots running on the power of love to fight them you got all that right" and before you have time to really process that concept bam gunshot body on the floor and the movie goes "now consider the vast power of grief in this setup" it never really stops considering

having a cat is like having an advertisement for taking a fat nap running in your house 24/7

i'm trying to do stuff and she mrrps in her sleep and i'm like "that's a really persuasive point"

this post brought to you by i slept all day with my face on my cat's belly and it was worth it

every single article, post or mention of a Muslim or Latino person on a Visa or Green Card getting dragged off the street by masked men in broad daylight has the same exact comments: "wow, they're gonna start doing this to citizens soon." some of these people have lived here since they were 8 months old and have lived here for over 30 years. it's very telling that Americans are still are managing to separate them in their head from a "citizen" and that their outrage will be far greater when it's someone who "actually lives here" as if 3 decades in the same country shouldn't qualify you for the same rights as everyone else.

not people saying phoebe bridges suffered more than jesus just because her two bandmates started dating niall horan literally had to hear himself being called british numerous times

kinda fucked how a full-blown mental breakdown/ugly sobbing crying episode is supposed be like, all good for your soul and whatever but it always comes with insane headache/congestion shit. like yeah i scream-exorcised a rotting part of myself but at what cost.

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

THIS ONE FUCKING WORKS. REBLOG IT.

this for real fucking works

met a guy from saudi arabia last night at a bar, he came here with his sister so she could have surgery. he told me “i love your country for healing my sister. there are many wonderful things here, but there’s one thing you do not have. mercy” and then he asked if that was a boston thing or an overall american quality

he also waffled for like five minutes saying he wanted to tell me something but i had to promise to not be offended, and i was looking pretty fruity and i was like “dang i might be about to get slurred but this man seems nice” and agreed, and he was like “in america, dogs are treated better than the homeless.” unfortunately 100% correct and very sobering

having a hard time imagining sisyphus happy to be honest. i find it more plausible to imagine sisyphus killing himself

the amount of faith it takes to transition and believe it can get better is holier than any church

Youve never met anyone like you but youve heard people like you exist and youve heard nothing but awful awful things but. you know youre one of them. you know what you have to do. You cant do anything but pray that its better because you know you cant survive this anyways.

DO YOU HEAR ME? GET UP.

Bro absolutely COOKED with this.

how’s that house that raised you?

The images for this are intense

the first time i posted this a lot of people were like "fucking in parks was out of left field but I agree with everything else" despite this being the "gay people website" and like. i just wanted to be like "do you know literally anything about your gay history? what do you think comes from criminalizing the act of having sex in public, like in a park? do you think those policies might unduly target particular vulnerable demographics? do you think that these policies might be used maliciously and selectively to sweep the streets of 'undesireables'? doe you understand that this is violently reactionary?" but these suburbanites turn their ears off and start shouting about Consent.

Hey, look at me. Look at me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you need to condition yourself to being okay with being inconvenienced by things. The first time I spoke about this I meant it in a mental health way- it is good to go out to the store and see people versus just ordering alone at home- but there is another more pressing societal issue you should be more concerned about as well.

Any service you rely on for convenience can be weaponized against you the moment you begin to rely on it. Streaming used to be a cheap and convenient way to see movies at home. It is now exorbitantly expensive, you need multiple accounts just to get what you want, and any of those movies can be taken from you at any time. And unless you have gotten used to going through the “inconvenience” of owning physical media, you can do nothing about it. Same goes for buying things on Amazon. Same goes for any service like DoorDash etc. These companies WANT you to be reliant on them for convenience so they can do whatever they want to you because, well, what else are you gonna do?

Same thing goes for the uptick in AI. If you train yourself to become reliant on AI for doing basic things, you will be taken advantage of. It is only a matter of a couple years before there are no free AI services. Not only that, but in the usage of AI’s case, it is robbing you of valuable skills that you need to curate that you will be helpless without the moment the AI companies drive in the knife the way they have done with streaming. Delivery. Cable. Internet. Etc. It will happen to AI too. And if you are not practicing skills such as. Writing. You are not only going to be at the mercy of AI companies in the digital world, but you are going to be extremely easy to take advantage of in real life too.

I am begging you to let go of learned helplessness. I am begging you to stop letting these companies TEACH you helplessness. Do something like learn to pirate. It is way more inconvenient at the beginning, but once you know how, it is one less way companies can take advantage of you. Garden. Go to the thrift store (older clothes hold up better anyway). These things take more time and effort, yes, but using time and effort are muscles you need to stretch to keep yourself from being flattened under the weight of our capitalist hellscape.

Inconvenience yourself. Please. Start with only the ways you are able. Do a little bit at a time. But do something.

I know this is a tiny part of the wider problems born of diet culture, fatphobia, classicism, and racism but like god the idea that "healthy" food must inherently taste bad has completely ruined us as a society.

Every time you feel bad for having coffee with cream and sugar or ranch on your salad or putting extra butter and salt on your veggies I want you to imagine the spirit of John Harvey Kellogg in front of you and then I want you to kill him with a real gun and eat your delicious food in peace.

i sat down to make a funny post about the ways i've had my work stolen. most of the stories are funny, too.

i don't really mind if you crack open the little meal of my words and eat it alive at the dinner table. all art should be enjoyed until it frays or combusts or collapses. it should move into you, and you should make it your own.

i only really intervene if someone is taking credit for my work - taking my name off it, or acting as if they wrote it. i usually send a gentle, calm message. what if someone made an actual mistake. and after all, i don't really enjoy "the limelight". i hope you'll forgive the dramatics, but maybe other writers will understand me when i say - most of what we do is born in darkness. it is born with us sitting in our little, lonely houses. living invisible lives on screens; imagining ourselves gods and kings. imagining a love story that eclipses our own banality.

i was writing a little funny post about plagiarism, about the ways people get defensive over what is clearly my work. and then i remembered: her.

she had taken all of the pronouns in my pieces and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was he. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she changed it in this stark, violent way - men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

and in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.