this pride month we’re all going to be radically pro transgender. or else.
hey so this means radically pro ALL transgender. don’t put limitations on this. all trans people are radically accepted here.
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@littleteapotghost
this pride month we’re all going to be radically pro transgender. or else.
hey so this means radically pro ALL transgender. don’t put limitations on this. all trans people are radically accepted here.
To say "I want you" "I miss you" is an act of courage. I trust you enough to turn my back. I am not watching your teeth.
But further-
To say "You love me"
To say "I believe you when you say you want me"
To say "I am Wanted. I am Loved. I am Desired. I am Chosen. By you."
Or further still- to speak of things that take for granted that I am Wanted, Loved, Desired, Chosen...
Then
I am the wolf on its back, saying
"Here is weakness- I cannot fight.
Here is my soft belly- gut me.
Here is my throat- tear it out.
I will not run."
Good Morning, I Am Not Going to Commit Suicide Today, by Kimmy Walters
finding somebody who will laugh at your shitty jokes is joy-inducing but finding a motherfucker who can yes-and all the esoteric bullshit you put out is pure cocaine. this must be the shit all those racuous but good-natured scoundrels down at the tavern are on
another day, another opportunity to create. you get to shape this moment as a thousand different timelines pour off of you in a thousand different ways. so fill it with beauty. how? give today the the uniqueness that makes YOU you. you are the perfect ingredient for this moment bud. LETS TROT
thats exactly what i meant
It is Spring and I Love You
That might be the whole poem
I don't know what I could add
That would say it better
Because
It is Spring
Says there is
Soft earth , awakening, budding flowers, blooming trees, farewell to cold, the rut, the tumble, the cry, sometimes strawberries, sometimes fresh greens, light and sunlight and soft rain, survival, the scent of flowers and soil and new leaves, birdsong and lambing season and seed and sprout
And
I love you
Is
I love you
Is
I love you
It's almost redundant
I love you
Means
It is Spring
But just between us
So
(Because I love you)
Here is a poem-
It is Spring and I Love You
it's just that i'm always worried i'm doing the wrong thing even when there's not a wrong thing to be doing. in the grocery aisle i'm doing the wrong thing. stopping for a moment to retie my shoelaces i am doing the wrong thing.
it is the first time i've visited this friend at her house; i'm doing the wrong thing already, what if i have the wrong address, what if she has special rules i don't know about, what if my presence here was more of a politeness and not a true request. it is the first time i've been to this restaurant, and surely yes i've been to many of these but what if i'm doing the wrong thing in this one. and even if i've been to this gym a million times what if this time the rules have changed somehow (or i've been doing it wrong all along and it was pure luck that nobody noticed) and what if this time i'm doing it very wrong.
they're taking orders for lunch at work, what if i order the wrong thing somehow, or what if - what if i am not even supposed to order anything - is this a test? my friends ask if i want to see a movie but what if i suggest a movie that they won't like and that's certainly doing the wrong thing. yes im certifiably happy and she's amazing and i love being a lesbian but if i bring her on a date where everything isn't blisteringly perfect (the weather is a bit chilly, finding parking was harder than i thought, the event started 3 minutes late) isn't that doing the wrong thing? i know i can't control everything obviously but i should have planned better; this was my fault. and of course i know i'm only human but - a lack of omnipotent foresight really is doing the wrong thing now.
am i doing the wrong thing writing about this? i'm doing the wrong thing, aren't i, i'm so sorry, i always seem to be doing that somehow.
Gender Dysphoria is bullshit and I would curbstomp it for you if I could.
y'okay can we stop pretending yet. like can we all acknowledge that eating disorders are chic again, and it's going to kill someone.
and like. do we have to keep gently phrasing things to protect naturally-thin people's feelings. in my life it has never been fashionable to be fat. "fat" is still a bad word. there has never been institutional power pushing people to gain weight; no trillion-dollar industry to "fix" skinny people. a larger body type has never been over-represented in models, influencers, celebrities. sure, people might say "i'm worried for your health," but they do it with respect and gentleness, like they're talking to a scared deer.
every single fucking time i talk about this, i have to be so careful with what i say, in case i offend even one skinny person. it is just true that skinny people have social capital across many cultures. there is a reason you almost never hear someone say "i wish i was fat," but you will constantly see people say "I wish i was thin." and yet inevitably some skinny person will tell me: i thought you wanted body positivity. it is the same fucking attitude as when a cis man says "when you say men have power, well, i've been bullied for being a man. i thought you believe in mental health awareness. don't you know men have a higher suicide rate?"
two things can be true at once: your experience being bullied for being thin was terrible. and people with larger bodies probably have it worse.
i have been big and small. i know many other people who have been big and small. trust what i'm about to tell you: being small is much easier. the world is kinder to you. people treat you better. honestly, this pattern occurs pretty much regardless of gender - my guy friends have confided that they'd rather be bullied for being thin than be bullied for being fat. if you're skinny, the pressure might be to gain weight, sure, but it's often to do so in a way that keeps you skinny - to gain muscle, specifically.
thinness is seen as innate and natural, genetic. whereas carrying any fat - that is a moral failing. it is assumed to be related to your character, your personality. i have seen people equate it to discipline, to hygiene. that bias is why we need to talk about this.
of course i want nobody to make a comment about anyone's bodies. and i think that hyper-thinness and an obsession with weight loss and a recession and a rise of conservative values... all of this is very fucking concerning. we are watching a return of "pro-ana" content, reframed as choice feminism, "health-conscious" behavior, "looksmaxxing". it's fucking terrifying.
You okay? You're looking kind of "August and Everything After" today
Oh... yeah. I mean, I'm not 'Raining in Baltimore,' but... Not really 'Mr. Jones' either
at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
I wake
And search
A distant sunrise
For a hint of your reflection
And trace you
Like a cloud shape
'Gainst the sky
.
Strikethrough words cut to meet the 20 word #micropoem limit for the sticklers and #poetry #rules lawyers
In this moment I am reaching across time and holding in my heart
An unrecorded, unknown painter, who
Having heard of this amazing new color! Prussian Blue!
Finally got their hands on some
And cried and cried and cried
Because it was just so beautiful
And it was just So Blue
And how they'd never painted anything
Anything Quite so blue before
How they swore to paint more
Seas and skies
Forget-me-nots
Seabirds on the shore
They cried
And blessed this age of miracles
That could create such things
To recall the distant mountains
The sheen on Magpie's wings
A painter wept and marveled
Centuries ago
I have not books nor letters
To tell me this is so
But I know
I know.
Her: ... yeah so that's why that's my favorite dinosaur. Thanks for letting me ramble, haha. So, um, what are your special interests?
Me: Actually, right now my special interest is that I am SUPER into pretty girls.
Her, confused and crestfallen: Oh... um...how does that...?
Me : So, tell me more about yourself?
I must beg my lady's pardon
Prithee, lady, grant me grace
My heart aches to imagine
Sorrow's shadow on her face
Would I were her Enchanter
And could command the spheres
I would move both frame and firmament
To dry my lady's tears
Would I were my lady's Jester
All in motley harlequin
And by art of japes and capers I
Could raise my lady's chin
But let me be my lady's bard
and ply my little skill awhile
Perhaps the paltry, halting rhymes
Might make my lady smile
WHEN ON PERIOD:
do not crash out
your feelings are NOT valid
do not send that text
don't kill yourself. lock in
do not act on negative emotions until at least 2 days have elapsed