words, like dakimakura, were made to lie with

a veteran of 10,000 lifetimes in the eternal war of all against all. literally a girl rn. sorry :(

[antihumanism]

you are born into this world forcibly and terribly, in fact it was almost certainly the most horrible moment you had experienced so far, and you are told nothing about it not about anything not about how any physical or biological laws work or how your lungs work or your ass works or your brain works, and why should the political or economic laws dictating their part your lungs or ass or brain all be any different?

[cogentranting]

Observed today:

Two little girls playing gently with a daddy long legs.

Girl 1: can it die?

Girl 2, in a calm happy even tone: of course. Like all living things it can and must die.

[antihumanism]

i bet if feels good as hell to be the artillery or bomber commander ignoring calls from the infantry officers while you blast your own side to pieces, "what did we ever do to you to deserve this" they whine and you just leave them on unread and send in another strike

[antihumanism]

losing the war, but my enemy was using e-bike messengers which is cringe so who actually won here (certainly not me, all my cities are set ablaze)

[antihumanism]

temu flamethrower ad flamethrower on tumblr ad use temu flamethrower to garden temu flamethrower and temu trench shovel for war against neighbor in the temu trenches temu artillery suburban hell blast neighbor apart severed communication lines relying on temu tricycle messengers to carry order for over the top rolling barrage temu tank worm formation behind it temu flamethrower in hand advertised on tumblr thank you tumblr advertisements

[292901092489]

Two of my cousins, who are siblings, have just had babies a few months apart. I’ll call brother and sister B and C. They had an abusive father who is now dead by suicide, and C, the older sister, has made it her life’s work to “break the cycle”. She’s an ex-chemical engineer who was hush hush making big money at Shell before phasing that out to focus on conscious Ayurvedic women’s healing retreats, energy cleanses, quantum philosophy life coaching. Teaching kayaking and abseiling in Switzerland, taking the sisterhood to the Amazon. Recently she spent 5k on an online Egyptian numerology course that allows you to divine the energetic frequency of any given object. Her husband, of course, is to this day a software engineer. They bought a house up in the Sunny Coast rainforest with their engineer money, a cavernous modern house that always seems to be dark on the inside, and she uses it to grow ayuhuasca and host their sober raves. That’s couple C and D. Meanwhile couple A and B are a dietitian and a physio who are really into long-distance running. They’ve got a bright, white-painted little Queenslander in the suburbs. Younger brother B has never devoted a thought to “healing” as such or “unpacking his trauma” or “grounding” or “conscious communication” or “somatic release”. I’m sure A and B fight sometimes, but later one of them says, sorry, I was really stressed out and being shitty, I love you babe, I’ll make it up to you. When C and D disagree… the workbooks come out. They have to take five deep breaths to regulate their nervous system (at C’s behest) before articulating which childhood wound was triggered.

I’ve been patient X for all of C’s healing. She gave me mushrooms when I was 15 and put me into wheel pose and then we went skinny dipping. She’s released my trauma in a waterfall. She’s bathed me in loving energy with oils and crystals. I’ve gone to her psytrance full moon nights. I’ve made ceremonial chai with all her friends. I’ve watered her ayuhuasca. She’s read my tarot. We’ve done yoga. We’ve meditated and prayed. I’ve written down my manifestations for her. We’ve spent entire nights discussing the future of her child, how she can be the best mother possible, how she could support them unconditionally and protect them from all evil. She’s taught me to abseil and we’ve burrowed through sea caves then got stuck in rips kilometres from the shore and too early for lifeguards. I’ve carried 15kg of ice barefoot from the servo through the rainforest in torrential downpour so we could brew our potions. Every speaker at her wedding crowed over this adventure princess winning the heart of the macho career man and dragging him to freedom and spontaneity.

Dad and I visited C and D today. Nobody was meant to: C wanted to follow the TCM tradition of forty days in bed after (home) birth, and thirty of those days alone with her husband. Well, one of the two grandmothers has been sleeping over every night, and C was stir-crazy going on walks by day five. They are struggling. From the moment I entered I was folding laundry, holding the baby, doing more laundry, trying desperately to clear a patch of floor among these hundred loads of wet or clean or dirty laundry laying around, and C started talking about some mould somewhere, more and more urgently, but I guess we didn’t really get it until it became apparent that she wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep tonight if the black mould hadn’t been cleaned out of her bedroom or bathroom. So her and I spent all day up a ladder in the heat, scrubbing off the mould, and also cleaned out some cupboards and sort of co-mothered the baby— she took me outside and asked if I could burp him, and was it okay for me to put a cloth down on my shoulder, because he was going to throw up on me. Basically I was very, very, very in the middle of things. My dad was sitting down, annoyed because he’d wanted to go to the beach. C kept calling D over in this pleading tone, but she was wearing this giant gas mask (because of the mould), so he kept not hearing or yelling WHAT? If she asked him to do something he’d sigh loudly, or not do it, and none of us had eaten, and he wasn’t like, for example, let me at least get some water or electrolytes or FRY A COUPLE EGGS for my psychotically sleep-deprived, depressed, two-weeks-postpartum wife who’s up a ladder right now and who’s been doing everything while I’ve been riding my motorbike to the gym. (In the end I set out some drinks and food.) But like, how do you let mould get that bad? Why hadn’t they at least given the walls a wipe down before the (HOME) birth, when this godawful tumour hadn’t metastasised quite so Stage 4ly? Their ensuite walls and their spa bath in their integrated open-plan bedroom-bathroom set in a sea of dark bare floor where they’ve been sleeping with the humidifier on and it’s too deep into the bush to pay to call a cleaner out. And then C and D started arguing in front of me, C saying, all the laundry is contaminated and we need to wash it all again, D saying, what are you talking about, you’re losing control, you’re going too far. C crying, I’m not losing control. C thinking for a while and then going to him and demanding, why are you working against me? At one point D told us through a gritted-teeth smile: see, C has all these big plans and ideas, which are one thing, but then reality is another thing, isn’t it C? Isn’t it! And the baby hasn’t had it easy: weight loss and lots of reflux.

I visited A and B at about the two-weeks-postpartum mark too, and I remember them offering me tea, then sitting outside with me for about twenty minutes, letting me play with the baby a little, asking me about my life, then saying bye bye, it’s our nap time, thanks for visiting. Baby is totally copacetic, always has a blast in her playroom full of carcinogenic pink plastic bullshit. (C and D have banned toys, TV, radio, advertisements, school.) A had a smooth hospital birth. No extra care needed, and she was pretty quickly back to her runs and drinks with the girls. B has never spoken to me about his inner life, I don’t imagine he’s in the business of it, I’m on the outside. With C (and D) I am always deeepppp on the inside. Too deep, it’s a bad trip, I’ve taken just a smidge too much, the big dark empty house is full of mould, the nontoxic cleaning products are inoffensive and useless, a smile turns sour, the baby vomits, the ritual reopens a cesspool of images, the raw flesh is turned out, forty days in bed, eighteen years in homeschool, the one you love calls you paranoid, tension erupts from a stretched-taut platitude.

What’s the moral? Reproduce with the right man? That’s part of it. I was thinking a lot today about unhappy families. When Dad and I collapsed at a pub afterwards, I said, I’m starting to think repression isn’t such a bad thing. He split his sides and went, welcome to my fucking life.

[patchoulol]

[patchoulol]

[yorickless]

I think the tang is an underrated dynasty

[antihumanism]

definitely don't get enough credit for how they invented orange juice

[fishing-princess]

Saw a friend say about a fictional character “you just know her pussy is a solid 3/10” and for some odd reason my immediate thought was to feel bad for her. I started thinking how I’d be sad in her place being stuck with a “solid 3/10 pussy”… how does a girl even manage to increase her pussy score? I simply don’t know

[caffichai]

Patreon commission for @lesbica-in-decadenza !

[thegoodmorningman]

Happy Solstice

Don't forget to Howl at The Sun!!!

[thegoodmorningman]

Happy Solstice once again!

[thegoodmorningman]

Happy Father's Day, dads. Hope your kids are all having a Good Morning every day!!!

[antihumanism]

there were so many months of speculation after Anby's alt and her dark and edgy backstory were revealed about what Billy's alt would be and what dark and mysterious past if would reveal, and then it finally turned out the story for Billy's alt is he got a payday loan to buy a motorcycle, which is actually pretty grim in and of itself to anyone who has known a teenage motorcycle purchaser or payday loan user, but like not in the same way as the whole blackmarket organtrafficking thing

[anocana]

i respect ppl who think frodo & sam were sucking & fucking constantly when the narrator wasn't looking. but personally i think the furthest they went was an awkward attempt at mutual handjobs one night in mordor which started as sam trying to do something anything that'd make frodo feel good & frodo insisted on doing it for sam too & sam closed his eyes & tried to imagine it was rosie cotton while frodo tried to remember the shire or focus on the texture of sam's rough hand or the unyielding heat in his own grip or think about anything other than the great burning wheel & neither of them succeeded. & frodo never got fully hard & eventually pushed sam's hand away but kept going & sam felt like he had failed & part of him wanted to push frodo's hand away too but instead he came harder than he had ever in his life & they never talked about it again

[antihumanism]

guy who wakes up in a saw trap and the gay little puppet tells him (guy in the saw trap) that there is a big bomb strapped to his (gits (gits = guy in the saw trap) penis, and if he (gits) presses the big button the big bomb will blow up his (gits) penis and also this will trigger the reverse bear trap he (glp (glp = gay little puppet) placed on his (gits) head and also the big bomb isn't armed right now and won't be until this explanation is over so he (gits) can stop pushing it for just a moment and fucking listen, he (glp) has already had like eight people fail this one by pressing the button too fast, and also, if he (gits) can resist the urge to push the big button that detonates the big bomb that will blow up his penis for one hour, the reverse bear trap will release and he (gits) will be free to go, but the big bomb that will blow up his penis will be disarmed and he (gist) will have missed his opportunity to have that happen, and then he (glp) says let the games begin, but a few minutes later he (glp) comes back on, all exasperated, and says the big bomb can't be armed if he (gits) is holding down the big button, you need to take your hand off the button for a minute ... OK, thank ... no, hand back off the button ... a full minute, wait until--wait until I say let the games begin, okay ... okay, let the games beg-- but he (glp) is immediately cut off by the sound of a big bomb blowing up his (gits) penis and then his (gits) laugh of glee cut off by the reverse bear trap ripping his face apart and killing him

[petruchio]

im literally always saying this

[antihumanism]

the Phase Connect girls living lives perpetually frought with disaster is a useful reminder of all the things that can go wrong and helps me evade misfortune in some cases, but they never warned me about bats invading my home and biting me, i feel that this is an area Pippa should have been responsible for, because being attacked by a bat and getting rabies shots feels like a Pippa moment more than anything