Everyone say thank you sanitation workers we owe you our lives sanitation workers

Janaina Medeiros
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.
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AnasAbdin

Andulka
d e v o n
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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YOU ARE THE REASON

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occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

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trying on a metaphor
Three Goblin Art
KIROKAZE
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@quail-z
Everyone say thank you sanitation workers we owe you our lives sanitation workers
the louis and armand interaction in the first few minutes of of s3 episode 1 was more sexual than the actual sex in the episode to me
Oh they're fucking NASTY in the public restroom after this
On of the less intuitive things about love, I've found, of any kind, is the importance of needing things.
I didn't realize it until recently, but I've always seen love as something requiring sacrifice, selflessness, patience, and generosity- to ask for nothing is to be the best person I can be, small and quiet and never in the way, always happy and helpful, self-sufficient and present when desired.
It's only as an adult, now, that I'm beginning to see the selfishness of wanting nothing.
I cut my friend's hair in my kitchen the other day. They wanted a trim and I had the skills, so I offered, and was genuinely excited when they stopped hesitating over "bothering me" and took me up on it. It was a peaceful afternoon, and we had tea and chatted for an hour or more.
My brother and I shared popcorn at the movies a while ago. When I came time to pay, I pulled my card out like a wild western sheriff and slapped it on the machine before he could fight me for it first. The satisfaction was delightful.
Someone called me crying on the phone the other day. Kept apologizing for disturbing me at work, talking about how they were bothering me on my lunch break. I was telling the truth when I told them that really, I was flattered and honored and relieved, knowing that if they were hurting I would know, that I didn't have to worry in silence. It felt good to hear them slowly come down, and to know that they knew it would be better soon, and to hear them laugh wetly on the other end. We're getting together for a visit next week.
It's hard to need things, if you've trained yourself not to. It's hard to want things, when you don't know how to want anymore. Trusting people is difficult, and so is relying on them, but I don't know where I'd be without the people who rely on me.
I've heard a lot of people say, "Nobody will love you unless you love yourself". I've had a lot of thoughts about it. It's not right, but it's not wrong, either, I think.
"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... I've always taken that to mean, "You will not be lovable until you develop a positive view of yourself as a person".
Now, I think it's sort of inside-out.
"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... because nobody can show their love to you in a way that you can accept until you treat yourself kindly, and learn what you need, and what you want, and how to ask for it, and then give that vulnerability away.
Love, for me, is someone I ask for a ride to the airport. Whether they end up doing this or not is irrelevant.
It's not needy, or selfish, or taking up energy. It's giving the gift of being wanted, and needed, and thought of. It's giving someone the security of being part of someone's life.
muppet profiles
the muppets trading cards (1992), pt. 3
I feel like a lot of people get "All Art is Political" confused with "All Art is made with Political Intentions" which is not the same.
listen. There's a whole mentality shift that needs to happen culture wide here, from the schools to the public infrastructure to pet ownership to the justice system
The proper response to your dog doing a natural behavior you dislike (digging/barking/protecting etc) it to give them an appropriate time and place to engage in that behavior
The proper response to skateboarders damaging infrastructure is to build more and better skate parks, or build skate elements into the public infrastructure on purpose.
The proper response to homeless people sleeping on park benches is to build them houses.
you see how there's like, a commonality at play here?
The proper response to a disruption is to address the root of the disruption directly, not somehow attack the disruption itself -
you don't invent a muffler by swinging a bat at the engine noise, you don't relieve your hunger by punching yourself in the stomach, you don't resolve public unrest by sending armed men to control them and you don't prevent homeless people using bus shelters as a roof by removing the bus shelters.
a whole ass shift in a basic mindset, i'm tellin' you. We need it.
Don't you want to become a cult leader?
I heard this audio again the other day, and at first I was thinking it had to be for Armand because, obviously, he is literally a cult leader, but then while I was making it I started thinking about Armand begging to follow Louis, and this is what happened instead.
fucked around on pinterest for a couple hours and ended up with this. here have some of my bug #mybug
I think one of the missing links in the "How can you be a psych abolitionist if you choose to use psych meds?" discussion (besides the obvious and fundamental consent/autonomy aspect) is reconceptualizing things like neurochemical medication as adaptive tools for a disability, tools to help the user do something xe has difficulty doing, rather than treatment for an illness.
I have difficulty managing the stresses of daily life without becoming overwhelmed and debilitated by anxiety. That is disabling. A drug that blunts my anxiety response is an adaptive tool I choose to use to manage my disability.
I don't have to use that tool. I didn't always use that tool. When I choose to forgo that tool or don't have access to it, I just Am More Anxious.
I also choose to wear eyeglasses to improve my eyesight. I could choose not to wear them, but then I wouldn't be able to see very well. It's okay not to see very well (plenty of people don't), but especially in a highly visually-oriented society, I would rather wear glasses and see things.
I don't think of my glasses or my duloxetine as treatments for illnesses. They're tools I choose to use to improve abilities I don't naturally possess much of (seeing past my nose, managing daily stress without panic).
There's a recurring online tendency to aestheticize consensus itself. The imagined future village is full of emotionally compatible people who enjoy communal gardening, conflict resolution circles, acoustic folk music, mutual aid potlucks, and repairing bicycles together at sunset. Which is nice for the people who genuinely enjoy that lifestyle. But plenty of humans are solitary, prickly, obsessive, urban, nocturnal, sensory-seeking, technologically attached, contrarian, novelty-seeking, private, or just plain difficult. Those people do not evaporate after the revolution. They do not get Left Behind while you are Raptured into the Utopia. They become your neighbors.
I had a vision but no Photoshop skills, so @arabellatheauthor made it for me 😚
stop. analyse that text through the lens of its author's intentions and original historical context. okay now take the author out back and kill them dead and analyse that text as though it were published by your mutual yesterday and is in direct conversation the contemporary discourse that's most relevant to your life. okay now pick your favorite angle of interpretation and come up with the strongest possible argument against it. now imagine that the text is your best friend and that it means you well and that you naturally give it every benefit of the doubt because you're on its side and you want the best for it. now imagine that the text wants you dead and it'll eat you if you don't eat it first. now pretend that you found this text locked away in a cave with no evidence of when or where it came from and you have to divine its meaning solely through its internal coherence and nothing else. okay now address the elephant in the room aspect of the text you've been ignoring because you find it boring or confusing or uncomfortable and become the number one expert on it. now spend forty minutes assigning all the characters dnd classes with at least three sentences of reasoning each. okay now do the cha cha slide.
Okay, you know what? I am just going to say it. I want fully unhinged Armand when it comes to Daniel and their past.
I want him to go "I let go of you, my love, to save you" with his I couldn't prevent it tone and Daniel to laugh cruelly and say "you didn't let go of shit, pal".
I want a scene where Daniel slowly uncovers, in like a saw movie twist, that it wasn't just a 12 year relationship that he erased from his memories....
But also that he would show up every time Louis would go away, or whenever Daniel was a little too happy with his life and family, that they have had MULTIPLE different relationships and affairs.
That it was Armand who helped ruin his marriages. That Armand owned the publishing houses that he used for his books. That he would wake up in the middle of the night and the sleep paralysis demon was Armand. That Armand is his landlord and owns every single building Daniel has ever lived in.
That Daniel somehow owns huge lots of land and property and a fucking Island all under his name all bought by Armand. That there are a couple of wearhouses filled with copies of his books that Armand bought to keep him in the New York's best selling list for a few more weeks.
That when he relapsed it was Armand who was his dealer (clean drugs). He was another junkie who made sure he wouldn't overdose. His secretary for a month. His one night stand. His student over and over every time he agreed to give a class. A producer for his master class.
That maybe everyone in his life has met him in one way or another. That he was one of his daughter's university friends. That he was one of his wife's colleagues. I want him to look at old family vacation albums and find him in the background
I want Daniel to slowly realize that when he looks back to his human life after 1973, Armand is there, somehow, somewhere, a shadow, his long slender fingers all over everything.
my feet hot in His hands in the red linen sheets that ripped so easily in anger
my feet cold on burning flagstones in the sun that makes one dash faster through the courtyard, the hot stink of the boats in venicio
my feet filthy and bloody in the ugly cold earth beneath a city, I have never let a french man rescue me before, I want him more than anything
my feet pressed hard into modern denim jeans of the american who wants to write about me, nobody has written about me in over 500 years, I walk on him and smoke
my feet running in still hot sinking sands in florida, it is a night paradise, the earth stays warm at night, but my boy is missing
my feet cool as the ugly earth, naked on a prayer rug, praying he comes home, praying He does not