Synaptic Left

27

[thememedaddy]

[thememedaddy]

[catreadsandthinksthings]

I stopped calling myself a pacifist when I heard Gandhi told women they should not physically fight off their rapists.

I believe there is such a thing as a non-violent fist. I believe the earth is a woman muzzled, beaten, tied to the coal slinging tracks.

I believe the muzzled have every right to rip off the bible belt and take it to the patriarchy’s ass. (Lines 5-13)

Andrea Gibson, "Etiquette Leash," Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns

[thememedaddy]

[charlesoberonn]

Mammu! Finius and Ferbingetorix built Rome in a day!

[yekokataa]

do you guys know about the internet roadtrip? right now somewhere between 500 and 900 people are collectively 'driving' a car on google street view trying to make it to canada. it's fun i recommend it

[deactivated-deactivated20658436]

[obsob]

i want it to be blanket weather again

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice’.

[mutar-in-lucertola]

The Black Saint & The Sinner Lady & The Dead & The Truth Adjust, by MORGAN PARKER

For one thing, I hate stillness. On the front porch, waiting, I see an animal I don’t recognize:

feet of a bird, wings of a leaf. The grotesqueness of attachment, the loudness of the woods, I knew it

when I was dead before. I died for my sins and because of this, I am in the woods now,

aching. It is June. I am used to being a certain kind of alone. Soon my photosynthesis

will complete, and I will be the gap between Angela Davis’s teeth. Do you ever

love something so much you become it? Like how when hard rain comes, you learn

quick. You straighten your shoulders and hope this is better than touching.

I say casual death , and the half-moon is my enemy, some uncertain white girl.

I wish I didn’t care. I am myself shaking hands, so subtle no one notices.

Sometimes, it’s my rib cage, or my throat does the same damn thing as my skull,

the little bear inside it. Please don’t make me repeat myself.

[notchainedtotrauma]

I cant't be sorry enough. I have learned everything is urgent. Roads closing, animal lungs. I am working hard to be as many people as possible before I can't. I know my long, dark movie is fistfuls of gravel in a brown bottle. My storyboards fill me with calculated sorrow. A full plate and burnt sage. Dollar sign, breaking news. I work two or three jobs. I am honorable and brave. The ensemble cast whittles down. Octavia Spencer cooks in a small apartment. She serves joyfully and doesn't eat. She wipes her palm on her apron, forehead. Angela Bassett is sick and tired of being. Denzel Washington reminds us how often we are afraid. We get arrested. Someone narrates. What you look like is sheer fabric and ivory shells. Alec Baldwin is smoking a joint in the bathroom of a CEO's birthday party. Steve Martin tastes the goat cheese and considers nothing. You never get arrested. There is no question that god waits at the end of your staircase curling softly like wood-finished ribbon. Anne Hathaway hires a decorator. Dianne Keaton makes midnight pancakes, tops them with lavender ice cream. What is beautiful does not need to be called beautiful. No one talks about money. None of us find unlikely love. I do not revel in my luxury. I would rather serve than eat. If it seems like I desire you, you're right. I want my whole mouth around your safety. I want to be buried side by side.

Nancy Meyers and My Dream of Whiteness by Morgan Parker

[xanaxfarts]

Basilisk Lizards

(Basiliscus sp.) of the Corytophanidae family are unique in that they regularly run across water, using only their feet as a source of both lift and thrust. This behavior is prevalent among hatchlings through adults and is made more spectacular by their large size range: Hatchlings weigh ≈2 g, whereas adults can weigh >200 g.

[moonlipgloss]

posts that make me want to rip my heart out part 5

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice’.

[dduane]

(via the author, at the Ex Bird place)

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

imagination (1963) - harold ordway rugg

"chekhovs cat / schrödingers razor / occams gun"

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was young my dad offhandedly told me he thought people treated fish with so much casual cruelty because fish can’t scream.

The words branded themselves across my soul.

As an adult I think he may have been joking. He payed no especial attention to any indignities fish suffered in our household but I could never forget. I saw fish in a different light after that.

Fish kept in tiny bowls, breathing their own poisons, dying by inches. Fish kept in cold tanks, casually disposed of. Fish touted as being short lived when they could outlive the better loved family dog if only they could breathe. Fish casually won and discarded in cheap plastic bags, thrown away a week later.

How they would scream, if they could.