diagnosed cptsd and some of its many side dishes. tme nby, not jewish. talk about fssw from experience. physically but invisibly disabled. polyam married bisexual. deeply dyspraxic. i'm fat and i'm cute about it.
i don't have a long byf but i don't use q---r for myself, i have the word muted for my comfort, i love sex workers and bisexual butches, and i am a psychotic kinnie. i block terfs swerfs, endogenic systems, ao3 donators, zionists, and pansexuals in the year of our lord 2020+2.
🗝️ my carrd · 📚 media list · 🐦 my twitter · 🔎 my ocs
chronic illness is so isolating, like our society revolves around work (and specifically the 9-5, 40 hour work week) so those of us who are unable to work bc of illness don’t share this central life rhythm with the people in our lives, and don’t have that built-in connection and socialization (such as it is). illness also isolates us from meaningful activity, bc it’s harder than you’d think to find purpose when you’re seeking it alone. meaning is made mainly in community, and we are on the margins (as well as limited in our ability to come together w other sick ppl). new mothers who stay at home experience this isolation, too, and the difficulty of connecting w others irl, and it’s just like… life doesn’t have to be structured this way. these two very natural human states should not doom people to lonely seclusion; they should be incorporated into collective life. a society that can’t accommodate sickness or babies is not a healthy one
““What do you want to do, David? Who do you want to be, once we get home?” I can’t get my head around what she’s saying. Who do I want to be? Like I’m just going to walk back into life with a new haircut and a tie and transform myself into a, a, a primary school teacher? A lawyer, a barista, a functioning member of society? After all of this? After Eskew? The truth is, I want to be nobody. As Allegra gives up and shifts her entire body away from me in her seat, taking an apparently firm interest in the trails of cloud passing through the darkness beneath the window of the plane, I think that to myself. If I get out of Eskew, I want to be nobody. A whisper of wings on the water. A rope hammock, creaking in the porch. No more than that. No memories, no dreams. Just the faintest trail of pure sensation, winding its way through existence. No other people. No ambitions, no hobbies. Life without detail, or reflection, or anything approaching conscious thought. It’s the only way to be certain, if I want to hold Eskew at bay. And even then, it might not be enough, because like a deer or a hare or any other small preyed-upon beast that has been bred over the centuries to know fear, no matter how empty my thoughts are, I will always be watching for it, eyes wild, hair on end, watching for the signs of it, for— —a movement in the water. —a shadow upon the porch. “You’re frightened,” Allegra says, suddenly. “You’re frightened you might never be rid of it.””
He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
Do you understand? When I am done telling you these stories, when you’re done listening to these stories, I am no longer I, and you are no longer you. In this afternoon we briefly merged into one. After this, you will always carry a bit of me, and I will always carry a bit of you, even if we both forget this conversation.
—Hao Jingfang, ‘Invisible Planets,’ in Invisible Planets: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation, tr. & ed. Ken Liu
I was originally going to have these printed as huge, lovely canvas pouches but my supplier literally just fell through….today…..a week before AX……:))))) ANYWAYS THESE WILL BE EQUALLY LOVELY POSTCARDS INSTEAD COME VISIT ME AT TABLE D24!!!!!
the problem with musicians is how they're always touring their latest album instead of like their critically hated second album from 2009 which is the one i'm obsessed with
giovanni's room, james baldwin / the girl who chased the moon, sarah addison allen / @electraheart2012 / mercy, mercy, me, john murillo [art: @heavensghost (x)] / my tears ricochet, taylor swift / the graveyard book, neil gaiman / biome, ryan galloway / there is a light that never goes out, the smiths / don't throw out my legos, AJR / caption: mad, bad, & dangerous to know, samira ahmed
image descriptions below the cut
1. Blue text on a white background reads, "you don't have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back."
2. Black text with yellow highlight on a white background reads, "I'm homesick all the time... I just don't know where home is."
3. Black text on a white background reads, "being alive is like: you want to go home. you don't know where home is. you want to go home. you don't know where home is. you want to go home. you haven't known for a long time. you want to go home but you don't know where you'd go. you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home"
4. A grid of six images. Clockwise starting from the top left, the images show: a hand holding three white flowers on a blue background; dark green leaves; a green bush with white flowers; a blue sky with clouds; a house with an empty porch; the side of a building and adjacent sidewalk. Individual words in various colours and fonts are pasted over the images. The words read, "Maybe memory is all the home you get"
5. Black text with grey highlight on a white background reads, "And I can go anywhere I want / Anywhere I want, just not home"
6. Black text on a white background reads, "bod said, “if i change my mind can i come back here?” and then he answered his own question. “if i come back, it will be a place, but it won’t be home any longer.”"
7. Light coloured text on a dark green background reads, "and… that’s what i fear. that nothing will ever make me feel like i'm safe again. that once you leave home, you never get it back."
8. An image of a white car driving on a road, facing the camera. In the background, there are green trees along the horizon, and a dark, cloudy sky. Lines of black text on a purple background is pasted onto the image. This text reads, "Driving in your car / I never never want to go home / Because I haven't got one anymore"
9. Black text on a white background reads, "Oh no, I'll come by when I'm grown / It won't be the same though / I can't go even go home, go home"
