Santiago Rusiñol (Spain 1861–1931)
Hydrangeas on a Garden Path 1929
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@f4ckst8farm
Santiago Rusiñol (Spain 1861–1931)
Hydrangeas on a Garden Path 1929
OP deactivated, and some of the links were broken/marked unsafe by Firefox, so here's a new compilation post of Leslie Feinburg's (She/her, ze/hir, any pronouns) novels and essays on being transgender:
Stone Butch Blues official free source directly from Author's website:
Stone Butch Blues, backup on the webarchive:
Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Book Award (American Library Association), 1994
Transgender Liberation: A movement whose time has come, on the web archive:
Remastered from scans provided free by the publisher.
Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman, on the web archive:
Includes bibliographical references (p. 201-203) and index
Lavender and Red, PDF essay collection:
A PDF, archived web collection of essays by Transgender activist Leslie Feinburg (she/zie/hir).
Drag King Dreams, on the web archive:
(Also, if anyone ever tells you that the protagonist of Stone Butch Blues ""ends up with a man""........ they're transmisogynistic jackass TERFs who are straight up lying)
Please also check out your local public libraries for these books and see if they carry them, to help support public libraries! If you have a library card already you can checkout Libby and Overdrive to see if your public library carries it as an ebook that you can checkout :)
EDIT: another not included on the orignal masterpost-- Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or blue !
147 p. ; 23 cm
ocean vuong talking about how he/him pronouns make him feel and how his gender is... literally so fucking true shout out to that guy he gets it
this from the paris review + his poem "beautiful short loser"
[Image ID: two screenshots of the linked paris review article titled "Reimagining Masculinity":
Years later, in another life, before giving a reading, the organizer asked me for my preferred pronouns. I never knew I had a choice. “He/him” I said, after a pause, suddenly unsure. But I felt a door had opened—if only slightly—and through it I had glimpsed a path I had not known existed. There was a way out.
But what if I don’t want to leave this room yet, but just make it bigger? Pronouns like they/them are, to my trans friends and family, a refuge—a destination secured through flight and self-agency. They/them pronouns allow an interface where one can quickly code oneself as nonnormative, in the hopes of bypassing the pain and awkwardness of explanation or the labor of legibility when simply existing can be exhausting. Would I, by changing pronouns, appropriate myself into a space others need in order to survive?
As a war refugee, I know how vital a foothold as small as a word can be. And since as a cis-presenting male, I don’t need to flee he-ness in order to be seen as myself, I will stay here. Can the walls of masculinity, set up so long ago through decrees of death and conquest, be breached, broken, recast—even healed? I am, in other words, invested in troubling he-ness. I want to complicate, expand, and change it by being inside it. And I am here for the very reasons why I feel, on bad days, I should leave it altogether: that I don’t recognize myself within its dominant ranks—but I believe it can grow to hold me better. Perhaps one day, masculinity might become so myriad, so malleable, it no longer needs a fixed border to recognize itself. It might not need to be itself at all. I wonder if that, too, is the queering of a space? I wonder if boys can ever bandage each other’s feet, in friendship, without a password...
End ID.]
Man, when I was like 16 I got so sick of being made fun of for being the fat kid that I took an axe down inna woods, chopped down a tree, and started doing log-lifts all the time. I got strong as fuck, but I didn’t lose no weight. I actually got bigger.
Same thing happened when I got into fighting. I got even stronger, and I got *fast*, man, and nimble, like a cat. Still chubby.
Body-building culture is a bunch of crap, my dude. Functional muscle is not necessarily toned or lean. You can be swole as hell and still be heavy. And that’s cool.
Embrace your inner barbarian. And when fatphobic little gym twinks try to body shame you, you should DESTROY THEM with your MIGHTY AXE
Can comfirm, i am Quite Fat ™ but i still hit my punching bag hard enough last week make it touch the ceiling and broke a finger in the process
You know, I train with (martial arts) a bunch of dudes, and a few bodybuilders have showed up over the years.
And every damn one of those huge shredded motherfuckers has the endurance of a fucking newborn puppy. Fifteen minutes into warmups and they’re panting for air like like they’re about to die. I’ve sparred them and every one of them telegraphs their moves about two weeks in advance, and are slower than my dead grandpa because their huge useless muscles get in the damn way.
Now. I also work with a couple of guys who are not weightlifters. They do, however, do very physical jobs and are Big Dudes. Picture this sort of build.
No abs to speak of, a bit of a tummy, and those motherfuckers can pick up one of the weightlifters and throw them.
And they’re fast. Like, unfair fast.
Bodybuilding culture is bullshit. Embrace your status as a giant barbarian and if anyone gives you crap throw them off a mountain.
i love and support all strong, fat people
I just remembered one time in like sixth or seventh grade (we had the same teachers and class both years so hard to remember which) somehow we got into a debate of “who is better, boys or girls?” and instead of stepping in to stop it our teacher formalized it and egged us on by providing thoughtful prompts and counters to each side and by the end each group had built a barricade of desks on either side of the classroom and we were throwing balls of paper at each other and screaming about personal hygiene while our teacher just watched and enjoyed a Baby Ruth candy bar.
This was the same teacher that got the cops called on our school like three times and would reward us for being good by spraying our hands with rubbing alcohol and setting them on fire.
He was the best teacher I ever had.
STUFF MR ROBINSON DID THAT WAS VERY GOOD:
One time Mr. Robinson closed the door to the classroom furtively and asked a student near the door to keep an eye on the door’s window in case anyone from the administration was coming.
He explained the next curriculum was one he had been explicitly disallowed from, but he didn’t know how we were going to cover the next portion of our history work fairly without covering it first. He said if any of us were offended by it or felt it threatened our beliefs to be discussing it, please talk to him and he would gladly find alternative work for us to do instead. But he asked if we would be okay not broadcasting too loudly to the administration (our parents were fine) about it.
At this point we’re on the edge of our seat. Forbidden curriculum? YES PLEASE.
“All right, do I have a promise from you you won’t tell on me to the principal?”
We, of course, promised.
“Good. Then let’s talk about World Religions.”
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(A side note here, if you ever have a not-forbidden courseload you want your students to really enthusiastically consume, I think pretending it’d forbidden will up interest levels immensely. The work was informative and we loved it, but the Secret Agent-ness of doing a SECRET ASSIGNMENTS and having SECRET PROJECTS and LOOKOUTS FOR THE FUZZ upped our investment in the material beyond description. Even if you DON’T have secret coursework, PLEASE DO THIS WITH YOUR CLASS SOMETIME. IT’S FUN.)
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At the start of the Great Gender Debate when someone would try to say boys and girls aren’t different and they can do whatever the other does, he’d super respectively ask them if they really thought that, or if they were saying it because they thought that’s what they were supposed to say, and encouraged us being honest about how we actually felt about the difference between between boys and girls and who was better.
Then lots of super fun shouting and throwing paper at each other and making desk barricades and more yelling.
(Keep in mind, this was 1999/2000. A lot of people didn’t even have internet at home. This was a small conservative town. Being trans or nonbinary wouldn’t have even been an option we knew about.)
Then he eventually stepped back into the fray of the Great Gender Debate and made us break down our points, which he had been taking notes of, on the white board and then had us carefully and intentionally refute or discuss them one at a time. Until we had reached a real and honest consensus that actually we’d been tricked into thinking gender was anything at all. Now when we said we thought neither was better than the other and being a boy or girl didn’t mean anything about what you could or couldn’t do, we fucking meant it.
One of our male classmates started wearing nail polish the next week and we told him it looked rad.
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One time it was a nice day out and even though we weren’t doing trig at that point he was like, “Wanna learn something cool? I’m gonna show you how to calculate how tall something is using shadows” and then we went outside and learned how to find out how tall things are by measuring their shadows and measuring the shadows of stuff we knew the length of, and then for fun we also independently worked out the world was round and how big it was.
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One of the times the cops were called on us it was because we were having a Hot Air Balloon making contest and people thought there were UFOs or spy planes.
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Another time we were just setting off dry ice bombs, lol.
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They changed the milk at lunch and we hated it and Mr. Robinson may have given us ideas about civil disobedience and direct action that led to the lunch room sit-in the schoolchildren ended up staging until they would switch the milk back. At the time it felt like he was being really cool, and he was, but thinking on it he may have also been using us as props to prank the administration and also give himself an afternoon off while all the administration tried to get a hundred 11-12 year olds to leave the damn cafeteria while we chanted about milk.
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We grew up in a town that was about 2% black. It was not uncommon for people living there to not know any black people at all.
One day Mr. Robinson told us we were going to be having a very important speaker come talk to us, and that he expected us to treat her with respect and deference. That she was one of the most important people we could be learning from, and we were honored to have her come to us. We all sat up, wondering who this important woman could be.
And he opened the door and it was one of the ladies who worked the front office, accepting our tardy slips and making us wait for the school nurse. A black woman, one of the only black people you’d find in the school.
She then sat down with us and talked to us about the racial history of our town. Explained to us what a Sundown Town was. Explained to us the racism she experienced growing up there. Explained the mistreatment of the police.
She wasn’t even that old. It struck us all. But you’re not even old. Is this still happening? Why didn’t you leave? Did anyone help you?
It was an incredibly powerful day.
When I went home to talk to my parents about it, they had no idea about any of it, even though this was the same town they had grown up in.
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Mr. Robinson would occasionally repeat this habit of special guests were not academics, just people who had lived in our town for a while, bringing in a lunch lady or a janitor, making us talk to them, learn our town’s history, learn to respect their jobs, learn manners and deference for the working class.
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One time he gave us bread, water, and ziploc bags and set us loose on the school to rub the bread on stuff, drip water on it, seal it, and watch what mold grew. The kid that got the grimiest piece of bread with the most enthusiastic mold would win.
We learned that many of the surfaces we consider the most dirty get the most regular cleaning, and so are in fact the least likely to produce mold. While many of the surfaces we eat off of and touch regularly are nasty as hell.
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Similar to the Great Gender Debate, one time he let class go wildly off course while we debated hotly for over an hour about The Lion King. I do not, for the life of me, remember the substance of this debate. I think The Little Mermaid may also have been a point of conversation? I just remember it got HEATED, and Mr. Robinson always thought these heated debates were REALLY ENTERTAINING and would quietly sit back and egg them on.
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One time he gave me detention and I cried through the whole thing thinking my parents were gonna kill me when I got home and instead when I got home my mom hugged me and told me how he’d called her and said I’d been really honest and showed moral fiber in standing up for a friend and taking the detention in the first place and she was really proud of me for being a good person or whatever and idk if he actually was impressed with my actions or if he saw that I was stressed about my parent’s reactions and wanted to mitigate that, but that was such a good move.
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IDK. I just have a hard time thinking of any teacher I ever had both as capable of chaotic dry amusement and completely upright righteous anger. He modeled for us what it was like to evaluate things based on merit rather than based on rules and expectations, and you felt that energy constantly.
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Plus like getting to set your hand on fire for good behavior is a way better reward than whatever dumb stickers or candies or whatever it is teachers usually use. “Behave and we will play with fire” is the BEST incentive.
Demagorgon Bionicle
it’s currently -40 degrees out where i am and i am so sick of settlers- specifically settlers complaining about the cold. go home moniyaw!!!
and i understand the cold is dangerous. my heart goes out to those who actually suffer in this cold especially unhoused people, someone in my city has already died in the cold after being kicked out of a shelter, and last winter almost a year ago a girl i went to jr high and high school with was in crisis and left her house without proper clothing and died.
the people i see who are complaining aren’t the people who are actually suffering right now.
vulnerable people, immigrants, refugees, they’re the ones i have empathy for in this climate, but so many settlers are being absolutely ungrateful for the land they live on, this land needs the cold.
housed settlers need to learn how to layer and stop complaining. dress for the weather or leave.
in mokinstsis (calgary, alberta) the city is removing doors off of transit stations to discourage people sleeping there.
https://calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/calgary-weather-cold-snap-chinook-ctrain-station-shelter-doors-removed-calgary-transit
in 2022, over 239 unhoused people died on the streets.
https://calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/extreme-cold-unhoused-calgarians-died-honoured
someone in mohkinstsis has already died because they were kicked out of a shelter.
in 2020 in amiskwaciywâskahikan (edmonton, alberta) a camp was established on sacred land, the camp called Pekiwewin (cree for coming home)
ran for months, establishing a centre for harm reduction and a Indigenous sovereignty. it was cleared out and shut down by police right before the cold snap. the land Pekiwewin is on is an ancient gathering place but it remains fenced off to this day.
The city of Edmonton and Edmonton Police have closed the longstanding homeless site Camp Pekiwewin. Residents were moved to other sites.
these are just a few examples from my area, but all across the prairies people are dying in this weather.
HAPPENING RIGHT NOW IN AMISKWACIYWÂSKAHIKAN/DOWNTOWN EDMONTON, ALBERTA
i hâve been catching busses at this stop for over a decade, there used to be automatic doors but now they have entirely removed them. there also used to be heating lamps but they are gone as well.
REMEMBER THAT FROSTBITE CAN OCCUR ON COLD SKIN WITHIN 10 MINUTES IN THESE TEMPERATURES.
RESOURCES FOR AMISKWACIYWÂSKAHIKAN/EDMONTON
resources for mohkinstsis coming soon. these are the two cities where i have community, along with winnipeg, so i’ll be mainly posting resources local to my communities. please share your own local resources, keep your neighbours safe, housed or unhoused.
TREATY 6/7 UPDATE!
things are looking up for the next week or so. there is a chinook (warm winds over the mountains) in southern alberta, so Mohkinstsis (calgary) will be hovering around freezing (-4 to about +6 celsius) and and Amiskwaciywâskahikan (Edmonton) will be sitting between -14 and -4 celsius. this is good! and will give community workers to prepare for when it inevitably gets colder again. amiskwaciywâskahikan does not experience chinooks, it is always colder there than in mohkinstsis, but both cities experience extreme and deadly cold.
WE ARE NOT OUT OF THE CLEAR YET. even though it is warmer now than it was before, exposure to these cold temperatures can still be deadly. for any settlers from warmer places reading this, alberta, particularity central and northern alberta experiences winter until april, even getting occasional snow until may.
NOW IS THE TIME TO ACT. ALBERTAINS MUST PROTECT EACH OTHER. USE THE RESOURCES ON THIS POST. MAKE CHANGE BEFORE THE NEXT COLD FRONT INEVITABLY HITS.
x-ray of shells Photography By: George Green
Katherine Kean - Suburban Murmuration. Oil on canvas.
Imagine talking to a hot girl on tinder who's kinda odd and quirky but also way too pretty to be talking to you in the first place. And then she wants to meet up at an odd place to hook up and you figure alright I'm either getting laid or having my organs sold in the black market, win-win in my books, so you go meet up.
But once you get there, there's no girl or anyone throwing a bag over your head to take you to a secondary location. Just an alien who goes "oh shit, that's a rare one", and snaps a few photos of you for their personal collections.
You fucking hate it when they do that. Spotting humans in the wild is all fine for a boring-ass hobby, but using fake mating calls to lure you in is just fucking cheating.
[ID: an image of dr. mario on a black background next to white text that reads, “Requiring doctors notes to excuse absences due to illness is inherently classist in a country without universal healthcare”. / END ID]
Btw that rule about not trusting how you feel after 4pm in the winter or 9pm in the summer (really we should just say after the sun goes down but whatever) is only about negative feelings. if you are chilling with your best friend drinking hot chocolate and have never felt more loved and safe, that is 100% true and you can and should trust
if you’re a fan of Shapes it is your lucky day
your testimonials are increasing her power
please she is growing too strong
“Surely nothing could be worse than a lot of women dying,” she thinks. “Ah,” she says.
this is why you don't upload your photo to cool filter or facemorph sites like LensaAI or whatever. they will collect your photos and sell them to companies like this.
You know what? Destroy the "people in rural areas are all ignorant conservatives" stereotype and start mocking the "trad"/anti-feminist/neonazi people that are obsessed with rural areas despite having never been to one