these things take time @kneedull - Tumblr Blog

anniversary

she was in the doorway. i looked up and said “i have so much respect for you.” she looked down and laughed quietly. walked over & kissed me.

"where are you?" 1am & winter; i could barely remember her building number. & "this is why i’m here." arms around my neck. a knowing grin.

i have a photo of me right before you broke my heart. told my best friend two days later, “i really met my match. i can’t compete with her.”

a feeling of peace came with being so defeated. something so true i could never deny it. i was in a kind of terrible awe.

told me the truth is a privilege, not a right. something i might earn with good behavior.

it’s morning and ive decided that i could fall in love with you. you reset the alarm, sleepily explaining “i set it for.. a while.” i smile.

it’s snowing and i’m at the haymarket t station thinking of you. thinking of my ex-lovers. a tricky lyric: “now who’s honey?” seems fitting.

everything seems so temporary. i feel lost. an olfactory memory hits me like a bus. i forget where i am for a moment. i don’t have my scarf.

we’re in a cafe and it’s freezing. i’m drinking the worst tea of my life. i really like you and it worries me. you tell me i’m interesting.

you ask if things are going too fast. i laugh and say “i don’t even know what that means.”

it’s late morning on january 24th and you hang up on me. panic grips me. i send you a text: “please, have a heart.” i’m speechless.

i’m on a porch in harvard square in a crazy blizzard. you’re out of detox soon and i know what’s going to happen already. i hate this.

my hand slides across my neck, feeling where my scarf would be. i haven’t eaten in days. i take a photo and send it to friends in portland.

i’m thinking about vicodin. michelle. all of those vices.

you tell me you’ve been “dreaming in cursive.” i’m stuttering as you pick up a piece of chalk and write out my full name. i’m done for.

you are cruel and i don’t understand it.

it’s late-february and i haven’t been able to breathe right for a month. a steady flow of telefon tel aviv and tricky. i don’t eat.

it’s 3 days after your relapse & you’re on your way to detox. you won’t tell me what happened. it’s today, and i still don’t know.

it’s every night since, and i have been trying to sleep for hours.

she lies down next to me & interlaces our fingers. casually asks “so, do you think we’re going to have sex?” i laugh so hard i cant breathe.

"i have no agenda whatsoever."

"i know…"

we’re watching “coming to america” on your laptop. i find it so endearing that all of the controls are still showing in full screen.

it’s wednesday and you’re still in your relapse. you tell me we’re just friends. i am physically ill. you don’t remember yesterday.

we are at an otherwise empty downtown chinese vegan place. your voice bounces off the walls. mine is far too quiet. i haven’t given in yet.

you tell me a story that would probably cause any person of sound mind to literally run away. i have the opposite reaction.

you are high and text me with typos and spelling errors galore. the last reads “addiction sucka.” i have some sort of laughing breakdown.

it’s april 25th and i’m pretty sure you never think of me at all.

it’s two months later and i’m twenty pounds thinner. i have changed.

it’s monday and you’re out of detox and with another man.

i’m pouring my heart out to a then-close friend about what has happened. she responds simply: “that sucks.” i have been wrong about her.

a new therapist is asking about suicidal thoughts. i’m not answering. i tell her it is the one thing i will lie to her about, if forced to.

your first communication in a week since you came home. it’s just 3 sentences. it ends with “I’d prefer not to keep in touch any longer.”

my window is open and it’s night time. the third blizzard this year is screaming. nothing is working & i’m desperate. hours & hours & hours.

i’m on a couch in new york city at 6 in the morning. the sun rises / i lament myself sick. i’m trying to meet you in brooklyn 2 months ago.

we’re walking to your place in the dark and i am completely lost. “i’m actually going to kill you in a dark alley.” “finally, someone!”

it’s early february and everyone thinks that disparaging you is somehow going to help anything.

i’m awake again and “you can’t trust an addict” just isn’t fucking cutting it.

you are telling me about AA and explain, “i had to believe in something.” i can’t think of a more horrific thing that has ever been said.

i’m having a full-blown panic attack in your bathroom with the faucet running. you painted a heart above the sink, and inside “love”.

it’s january 23rd and i’m feeling paranoid. i decide to fully trust you.

it’s february 9th and i realize that literally everything was a lie. this is movie shit.

i’m in public and you are every woman with blonde hair in the distance.

it’s two weeks since you last spoke to me and i’m ashamed of how much i care.

it’s february and i’m dreaming that i’m talking to my ex-wife in a field. she says, “no one told you? i’m getting re-married on wednesday.”

she looks at me, almost with an apology. she runs off without saying anything else. i wake up. i feel it.

i’m trying to explain. “mangaface is a propane torch; white hot. my wife is that centralia mine fire; burning underground for decades.”

you’re high & i don’t know it. i tell you i’m really worried about you. you laugh at me. the irony of me describing you as kind is not lost.

you’re in all of my dreams but only as an extra. a reminder that some things are literally unspeakable.

im standing on the sidewalk where you kissed me back.

"i had a dream 2 weeks ago that she was getting re-married. i can’t shake the feeling that it’s true. i could find out in minutes. but why?"

i’m lying in bed. midnight, window snow. i’m weak and i’m broken again. i can feel the storm wall. my heart beats so i’m alive. tick/tock.

you repulse me / i am dying for your approval. my mother calls and i tell her “i don’t understand how i feel.” what is happening here?

you send me a text: “i really like kissing you.” i prepare for the death blow.

it’s freezing outside and she’s going to be remarried. i know it in my bones. i am confused. do i feel everything or nothing? no words.

it’s march 9th and i see a woman who looks and acts so much like she did. i can’t help but smile. 16 years; i have to know the truth.

it’s beautiful outside. he posted: “She said YES!!!” all caps’d out and retarded like that. i’m not surprised. i don’t know what i am.

i am a wreck; a tough act to follow.

i’m remembering 15: fan in the window, your red/orange curtains, converse shoes. your beautiful hair. my nickname; your voice. your voice.

your teeth in my neck.

i’m feeling sixteen years of you.

days later, it finally occurs to me that you are wearing another man’s ring. i am devastated.

it’s months after you left me. apropos nothing you tell me, almost with resignation, “you are the love of my life.” i am haunted by this.

#anniversary #anhedonia #psychopath

screenshotsofdespair

tragedyseries

what's the Holocaust mean for your bottom line?

magnificentruin-deactivated2015

And then one day your luck runs out, and you realize it never had anything to do with you.

(via magnificentruin)

magnificentruin-deactivated2015

How many more pictures of beautiful people until you think you have enough?

(via magnificentruin)

Body Worlds is Patronizing, Moralizing, Sexist Bullshit

Just saw the "Body Worlds" exhibit in Boston and was thoroughly disappointed by how the corpses were basically used as gimmicks to promote an ideological viewpoint that borders on fitspo. It pretends that its purpose is educational, positive, informative and "for your health", but just like fitspo, there is nothing exceptionally educational about it, nothing that hasn't been thoroughly covered in any number of non-corpse ways; I learned nothing I didn't know before. I was, however, beat over the head with a bunch of tired old shaming bullshit. It is also notably gender stereotyped/sexist, with only 2 females in the exhibit (vs maybe 10-12 males?), yet both of them were positioned as "dancers". In a comment on this post (which does a pretty good job of describing the shallowness that I felt the exhibit exuded), someone wrote (about the female bodies in the exhibit):

Their backs were arched and hips positioned in overtly sexual ways, and their vulvas were simultaneously positioned away from the viewer’s path and accentuated with mirrors for people who wanted a certain angle. I’m sure some of this is exhibit availability and the disproportionality of female donors, but at a certain point it comes down to his assumptions about gender and beauty. Brilliant anatomist, but a shallow and patronizing artist.

What compels people to visit this kind of exhibit is that these were once real people. Yet, Body Worlds seems content to ignore that fact, never mentioning who these people were, why or how they died, what they were like - anything that would actually create a real, meaningful experience of empathy or connection. The only information that we get about these people, if anything, is if it was a Smoker, a Fatty, a Drinker or any other kind of Bad Choices Loser. Who cares who they were as people? That would distract from The Message. To quote the great philosopher Walter Sobchak, "No, we can't do that, Dude. That fucks up the plan." From this article about the Body Worlds NYC show below:

"There's a narrative and viewpoint taken with the 'Body Worlds' show," says Angelina Whalley, master planner of the exhibition. There may be enough innards and posed bodies, but that narrative is not one of anatomy, says Whalley, a physician surrounded by brains shucked of their skulls and hearts plucked from their circulatory systems. "Body Worlds," she says, is meant to be about how we move through life's stresses, often emerging worse for them in the end. "It is really my sincere goal to not raise a finger and say, 'Don't do this, don't do that,'" says Whalley, readying the exhibit for the opening. Yet after similar shows in other cities, she's seen reports that visitors have pledged to stop smoking, exercise more and eat healthy. "It's like a paradigm shift," she says.

Oh. You know who says "It is really my sincere goal to not raise a finger and say, 'Don't do this, don't do that'"? Someone whose sincere goal is to raise a finger and say, "Don't do this, don't do that." You would never know from the marketing and hype that this is not a show about anatomy, but narrative and viewpoint. Probably because it's a narrative and viewpoint of a completely craven and cynical mentality. As an example of manipulation techniques, especially using science and positions of authority to promote ideological messages, this exhibit *is* quite educational. Other than that, though, I'm afraid it's just a bunch of moralizing bullshit that should not be supported in any way.

#bodyworlds #boston #bullshit #fitspo

Many religions now come before us with ingratiating smirks and outspread hands, like an unctuous merchant in a bazaar. They offer consolation and solidarity and uplift, competing as they do in a marketplace. But we have a right to remember how barbarically they behaved when they were strong and were making an offer that people could not refuse.

Christopher Hitchens

failed--utopia

by John Liberto

the lord hath no mercy

you-are-another-me

Here is a Science fair project presented by a girl in a secondary school in Sussex . In it she took filtered water and divided it into two parts. The first part she heated to boiling in a pan on the stove, and the second part she heated to boiling in a microwave. Then after cooling she used the water to water two identical plants to see if there would be any difference in the growth between the normal boiled water and the water boiled in a microwave. She was thinking that the structure or energy of the water may be compromised by microwave. As it turned out, even she was amazed at the difference, after the experiment which was repeated by her class mates a number of times and had the same result. It has been known for some years that the problem with microwaved anything is not the radiation people used to worry about, it’s how it corrupts the DNA in the food so the body can not recognize it. Microwaves don’t work different ways on different substances. Whatever you put into the microwave suffers the same destructive process. Microwaves agitate the molecules to move faster and faster. This movement causes friction which denatures the original make-up of the substance. It results in destroyed vitamins, minerals, proteins and generates the new stuff called radiolytic compounds, things that are not found in nature. So the body wraps it in fat cells to protect itself from the dead food or it eliminates it fast. Think of all the Mothers heating up milk in these ‘Safe’ appliances. What about the nurse in Canada that warmed up blood for a transfusion patient and accidentally killed him when the blood went in dead. But the makers say it’s safe. But proof is in the pictures of living plants dying!!!

fitamin

I’m never using the microwave again

gotobrigidsjournall-deactivated

*pees pants*

lord help us all

i-choose-fit-deactivated2013090

Oh wow. Huh…

tesswrong

I better start cooking my oatmeal from now on.

kneedull

nope. http://www.snopes.com/science/microwave/plants.asp

tphd

IT’S EASY TO BE A GENIUS IF YOU JUST TRAIN YOURSELF TO STOP SAYING OR THINKING STUPID THINGS THE NEXT STEP IS TO THINK REALLY SMART THINGS INSTEAD

ALSO MOST PEOPLE ARE STUPID SO TRY TO FORGET ANYTHING ANYONE’S EVER TOLD YOU

"If you refuse to let your own suffering lie upon you for even an hour and if you constantly try to prevent and forestall all possible stress way ahead of time; if you experience suffering and displeasure as evil, hateful, worthy of annihilation, and as a defect of existence, then it is clear that besides your religion of pity you also harbor another religion in your heart that is perhaps the mother of the religion of pity: the religion of comfortableness. How little you know of human happiness, you comfortable and benevolent people, for happiness and unhappiness are sisters and even twins that either grow up together or, as in your case, remain small together."

neetz.

#happiness