At the Punch Table @punchtable - Tumblr Blog

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Us…

- Nadir

The life

A poem I wrote

I long to know About all men Without knowing About their beds I long to know All women Without knowing About their men I long to know The whole wide world Before they see That I'm a girl

Bus Blues

Passing by fields of banana farms. The air is hot on the bus and I’ve already switched my seat twice in the hopes of sitting alone. It would be a favour to the others, as the unbearably stuffy air has turned me into a sweaty, stale mess. I managed to switch from long sleeves and pants, to shorts and a t-shirt; the original outfit was chosen in anticipation of a cold, air-conditioned bus as was the case on my last twelve-hour bus journey. I was in socks, jeans, a sweater and a jacket and still found myself shivering, attempting a nap awkwardly across two seats. Today’s bus has decided on a different atmospheric approach; insufferable in the opposite direction.

My travel pillow has not risen to the challenge well.

The girls had gotten off a stop many hours before I. Traveling alone. Finally. But not the sort of confident, positive “finally”. The sort of ” finally” accompanied by the recognition of the inevitable scariness that is solitude. Through the bus window out into the darkness I see the glimmer from a window. One lonely building. Perhaps a farm house nestled in the muggy airs of the rainforest? Will I find work in a house or home?

Lights ahead. How big is Cairns? Will I know its lights approaching the way one would from a plane? Will the bus pull up and alert all of us hazy passengers stuck in our sleepy doldrums via its scratchy bus intercom? Will I wake? Will I find my hostel? The bus is, after all, late due to its two hour break down this morning.

The bus driver coughs into the intercom, so we know he is about to announce something. I get nervous every time he makes us wait in anticipation. There is no reason for these nerves except for the fact that now that I’m alone I’ve no one to be a rock for. I’m braver with a cause, but with no one to protect I’m shy and scared. The girls laughed, “you’re -not- shy.” And “you’ll make friends easily!” Will I? I’d done it before after all. In one week it will mark my six months away from home. Six nomadic months with a brief stint of paying rent at a university dorm, where I was sharing a room with one other guy. “I haven’t had my own room in six months!” It dawns on me. I suppose some people go their whole lives without their own room. Some people go a whole bus ride without their own seat.

#cairns #bus #australia #lonely

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A whooooohooooo!

#Blur #Song 2

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If you tolerate this, then your children will be next.

#Manic Street Preachers

lol

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sandorara

This pleases me.

littleletters

This is fantastic.

I like it when I find country/bluegrass inspired music that I enjoy.

#First Aid Kit #Emmylou

myfotolog

Berchtesgarden, Germany…

Hope Tumblr doesn't shut down because I posted a video that wasn't mine here... #stopsopa&pipa Here's a fun song with a disturbing video to warm the cockles of your heart and confuse the heart of your cockles.

Happy Snow Day Comrades!

#Snow Day #The Shins #Turn on Me #SOPA #PIPA #Wincing the Night Away

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Upon being fully aware of how shitty my blog has been lately, (Seriously, the last moose post has been the first post in this blog for a long time, and that's just sad) I decided to post a lovely song for you all. This is Roy Orbison with "She's a Mystery to Me". My life is in a whirlwind. Apologies for temporarily giving up on this blog.

#Roy Orbison #She's a Mystery to Me #Music

wanderafter12

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onewonderingsoul-deactivated201

Oh lord, Woody.

davidragifs

cultofkimber-deactivated2022031

Me too. And, more than that, I’m sick of the people using it.

Women are told almost constantly—by the media, the government, and the overall attitude of society—that our bodies don’t fucking belong to us. The mythical friendzone is just another way for misogynists to enforce that idea while getting to play the victim.

It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.

But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.

And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.