GAY @eeeeeeeestronomy - Tumblr Blog

every now and then I am reminded to my great chagrin that my mother is funnier than I am

DEALER: this shits called "warrior's last stand," itll knock you on your ass feeling like youre fighting to the bitter end ME: whatever man Ive not a whisper of violence in my heart [TWO HOURS LATER] WELL-ENDOWED ELVISH SHAWTY WHO THOUGHT WE'D BE SMOKING ELVISH SLUTWEED: [impaling ants by flicking thumbtacks at them] IF I'M TO DIE TODAY I WILL TAKE ALL OF YOU WITH ME!!!

ME: [lying face down in the gravel, thoroughly convinced I've been shot in the stomach with grapeshot] i dount have much time left,, please let me suck yuor eartips just once before I pass,.

rozieramati

How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong

rybajek

Vash as the wanted brimmed cap, and Wolfwood as a different branch of the Knights Moralis!

#woah tag

rozieramati

How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong

orteil42

given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that

#thank you mr cookies

i wish there were a better website

inkskinned

falling in love is so fucking stupid. everything on earth is glowing honey-bright. i am easily charmed by small things. i am obsessed even with the shadow formed by her eyelashes. i can't get over the magic of this: that humans can feel something like this.

and yeah in the history of humanity we still can't seem to talk about it enough. because i can tell you about it - about her - and it won't surround the experience. it can never be big enough.

i am feeling something people have maybe always-felt. who knows when the first person fell in love. i am also feeling something that feels new and silly and extreme. like maybe we're the first people to really understand it, truly.

i know the science of it; why her smell is so good to me (something about our compatible genes). oxytocin and whatever hormones. and still it is incredible - i didn't think my body did this kind of thing. i thought it was an invention of romance-book marketing.

things make sense that didn't make sense before. songs about how love is an addiction or possession or insanity. orpheus had to turn around, of course he did, i would turn for her too, just to see. my mom and i watch a rerun of a murder mystery; for the first time i understand the line he did it for love - instead of being trite, it feels like a genuine tragedy.

and of course i am feeling the same way millions of people have maybe felt and know i cannot write enough about it, that it won't quite surrender to poetry. why do i think i'm gonna be the one who can finally communicate this thing that resists definition so ardently. this girl in my kitchen, humming. who walked so casually into my life. this girl pulls the rain down from even a cloudless sky.

what i can say is that i feel something impossible, and stupid. what i can say is that nothing about this is unusual, and yet i am so caught in it that i keep waiting for some terrible evil - something so good surely must come with some kind of retribution.

we get high and watch zombies 4 (it's terrible). the main characters sing a song about love; how theirs feels wild and impossible. the kind of thing i used to think was insipid, bad writing. baby that's us, she says into my ear.

that's us, she says, but with us the true love thing is actually real.

inkskinned

this year for pride i'm identifying as a fucking problem :)

inkskinned

how many times have you heard i want to kiss girls but it's scary. you have said those words, even. you flinch but you still do feel it - kissing men is easier, dating men is easier. there is already a social contract about it. a republican's wet dream; you had been socially conditioned to "know" what to do, even if it has never explicitly been described to you. the man and the woman get together, end of story.

you want women, of course. you want them, badly. and sometimes you wonder about that. is it because a man isn't real to you? this thing you have with men - is it only easier because you wouldn't have to change anything? your parents can pretend you're "straight", no matter how many times you exit the closet or say i'm at least half gay.

are you just... afraid?

because what if it's not true. what if kissing girls is just as easy - better, even - than kissing boys. what if dating girls means there's no weird subtle power imbalance; means that your life is full of laughter and love.

or maybe it's because if men don't find you attractive - well, okay, whatever. they can choke. you don't exist to make men happy, certainly. you can shave your head and let your leg hair grow out and dye your eyebrows because fuck what men think.

but what do women want? what if you try as hard as you can and you are not what women want? or worse - what if they do want you, but you have no idea how to treat them? certainly dating a woman is not dating a man; and you only have the manual (ha!) for one kind of relationship. everyone at this queer bar probably has kissed and hooked up and knows interesting positions to fold other women into. they've probably had sex in the bathroom and know where to slide their fingers into.

logically you know every body is different. there is no singularly correct way to have sex or kiss or love anyone of any gender. you know some people need to suck toes or do gymnastics or picture wife-roaches. so how hard could it be, really.

but you tell yourself - well, the dating pool is smaller. you have heard so many wlw horror stories from your friends - like their exes randomly appearing at a party, or the time three of your friends all accidentally dated the same person at once. and your lesbian friend warns you - wlw breakups hit harder.

and it's not like you're unhappy. you are happy, certainly. the man you're with now might genuinely be the love of your life. he paints his nails and likes bugs and treats you like a princess.

but still. in the late night, you feel your heart stutter. because what if it isn't really that difficult. what if you're just creating false assumptions in your head in order to fit a fear-based narrative. what if this is your internalized homophobia; what if it's heteronormativity; what if you're the only thing stopping you. what if those rules don't exist, and you're imagining scenarios so that you never take a risk.

what if.

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

they seriously expected us to worship cops & soldiers when street cleaners and sanitation workers exist? fuck off i know who my heroes are

threedollarsdotcom

is it good that I keep dying in other people's dreams

inkskinned

Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.

I’m not worth the cost of a watch.

inkskinned

i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.