aggressive front pocket

artist

[teaboot]

I was too busy laughing to take a picture but my son answered the door last night ready for an adventure 😭😭😭

[teaboot]

IT HAPPENED AGAINNN

[unstablebill]

I've been scream laughing at this for several days

[guiltfactory-moved]

everything is a reference when you're crazy

[seranine]

i went to magnolia the other week for this three-way skill trade; i get whatever cut and style i want, modeling for the stylist, and then again for the photographer, who in turn gives license for the photos to the stylist and me. among the alternate cash-free paths i've had to find for all manner of things in order to survive for so long, which i mostly come to loathe for how inherently othering they are, this is one of the few that feels pretty completely pro-social. everyone involved is giving and receiving with joyful, easeful reciprocity. no one is making anyone do anything. we are all just being who we are, around each other.

and it looks like this.

hair: Nics and Cuts

makeup: n/a

model: seranine

photo: halogen project

[toyastales]

Meyle & Mayer snake brooch, c. 1900, crafted from silver, enamel, and opal.

[hyenaswine]

i think people are starting to confuse class analysis with bioessentialism. like... no not all men do this, but Men as a constructed social class do do this. that's still okay to say. that is regular material analysis of the world around us.

[mellifexfarm]

6 second corn annihilation

[seranine]

cornnihilation

[seranine]

i can't not notice how little i feel in common with most other trans women. it is impossible to miss, in the constant context of presumption that i am or will be part of The Group, whatever that is or means. it's a surreal re-expression of previous traumas; a presumption of affiliation, followed by a lot of projection.

i'm supposed to be this, so, i have to be this, and when i'm not, people react poorly, for the most part, especially within that circle. as ever, my identity is created, defined, and policed by outside pressure that cannot ever ultimately be other than some form of violence.

i am being what i am incorrectly, according to. perhaps i am not a real whatever-it-is. according to. there is a definition and i do not meet it.

this creates friction, and that creates pressure. by this force i am moved, more in or more out. in any case, conversely, or perhaps as corollary, i can't not notice how well i tend to get on with trans men. and trans masc people, and afab enbies, and cis women.

obviously there are exceptions, but the broad strokes are this. i don't avoid other trans women. or amab enbies, or cis men. i don't seek out trans men. or afab enbies or cis women. these are not categories i've created, they are neither born of nor backed by any sort of belief in me. and also, i keep settling most effortlessly into the latter circles, and out of the former.

this isn't confirmation bias, or at least i'm not speaking from that place. i'm not making the sane choice over and over and commenting on how i notice i'm always right, in hindsight, to have made it. this isn't about rightness or wrongness because choice is acontextual.

i'm talking about discovery after the fact, and observation of that pattern. i'll read someone's writing, or hear their music, or something, some indirect experience of them, and really vibe with it (or really not), and look into the author just enough to get a rough idea of them, and there it is. the pattern.

even the times that don't fit by fact of conformity fit by volume of inconformity.

so what am i saying?

just this. observation. description. things i notice and sit with. not how i feel about them. not conclusions i may have drawn from them. (there are none.) not actions i am taking therefore.

just noticing.

[mrlovenstein]

Secret Panel HERE 👻 patreon.com/posts/54470189

[contemptible-scoundrel]

ANIME FOR INTELLECTUAL GENIUSES:

serial experiments Brain

neon Genius evangelion

poyopoyo kansatsu nikki

dunGenius meshi

chainSmart man

juGenius kaisen

Teach

Thinking on titan

[contemptible-scoundrel]

[audible-smiles]

My memory of The Birdcage (1996) is always that it's more dated and more difficult to watch than it actually is. You hear "drag-themed comedy from the 90s based on a musical from the 80s based on a play from the 70s" and you brace yourself just a little, right? But the film has a strong gay perspective, so the fruity fag jokes mostly come off as warmly affectionate. There is a surprising amount of poignancy in Robin Williams' portrayal of Armand, grudgingly agreeing to his beloved son's request that he go back into the closet for an evening ("do me a favor and don't talk to me for a while"). The drag club's staff attempting to redecorate the apartment with stuff straight people might like (a taxidermy moose head, an enormous crucifix, and Playboy magazine) is extremely funny. Albert's histrionics are a point of tension because he does often come off as a stereotypically pathetic/comic figure, but towards the end of the movie he makes it very clear that he's aware of how people see him, and asserts that trying to copy a stoic masculinity he doesn't possess for the sake of social approval would be more pathetic. In the 1983 musical adaptation, they give "Albert" (Albin) the only good song in the whole show, "I Am What I Am", which Gloria Gaynor covered to the delight of gays everywhere. Apparently Nathan Lane wasn't (publicly) out yet in 1996, which is amazing because it means that at one point in this movie you're watching a gay man playing a straight man playing a gay man playing a straight man, in a movie about how it's important to be yourself, an absurdity that does seem to encapsulate the state of gay America in the 90s.

[silverhand]

I'm seeing a couple of posts circulating about the gay 90s and this movie. The above is a very good summary, and I think it's worth adding a few other points.

This movie got made because Robin Williams said yes to it (and it's important that Gene Hackman did as well). Williams in the 90s was a mega-star of a type that's not present in the current media environment (maybe Tom Cruise, but I personally think that's echo from his salad days). Even his flops made money on the back end in the video rental market, which also doesn't exist anymore (streaming is different). Hackman was on the other side of his A-list career but still Hollywood nobility if not full royalty.

Playing gay was considered career suicide in the 90s. There had been a number of actors who put lie to that belief stretching back decades, but this was Williams and Hackman (yes, being on screen next to a gay character was enough to get you blacklisted) saying "screw that" and doing it anyway.

Being gay and out was career suicide in the 90s.

Nathan Lane had a really nice gig going for himself. The Lion King put him into the Disney rep company with people like Williams, Bette Midler, and Whoopie Goldberg (check their IMBD list from the 90s--they were making bank at Disney).

Lane didn't come out until several years later (nice summary: https://deadline.com/2024/06/nathan-lane-robin-williams-advice-coming-out-birdcage-1235975010/).

I don't want to imply that this was a Sorkinized moment where everything changed because of one thing, but this was a very important movie that caused real movement in the needle on queer acceptance.

It also proved that there was a market for films with gay characters, which had the knock-on effect of gay filmmakers being able to find distributors of their gay-themed films. Which meant that more people than ever (queer and non-queer) got to see representation on-screen.

[thedogeveryonehates]

[moniquill]

[inkskinned]

Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

I’m not worth the cost of a watch.

[inkskinned]

i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.

[dogpuppy]

He is my princess diana

[seranine]

they may take!

our journal!

but they'll never!

take!

our selfies!

[salmonella-destroyer-of-worlds]

Actual roman epitaph for a dog

[disgruntled-foreign-patriarch]

humans are the same

[mornington-the-crescent]

[bedlamsbard]

I’ve seen this one doing the rounds a few times (and it makes me cry every time I see it), but was curious about the original Latin text, so I did some digging: it’s a shortened version of CIL 10, 00659, a tombstone from Salernum (modern Salerno, Italy). (source; CIL is the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum).

Portaui lacrimis madidus te, nostra catella,

     Quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus.

Ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis oscula mille

     Nec poteris collo grata cubare meo.

Tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem

     Et iunxi semper manib(us) ipse meis

Morib(us) argutis hominem simulare paratam,

     Perdidimus quales hei mihi delicias.

Tu, dulcis Patrice, nostras attingere mensas

    Consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos,

Lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas,

     Quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus,

Accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter

And here’s my translation:

Wet with tears I have carried you, our little (female) dog, just as I did in happier times fifteen years earlier (lit. “three periods of five years).  For myself, Patrice, now you will not give me a thousand kisses nor will you be able to lie lovingly around/against my neck.  I have sorrowfully placed you, merit-worthy, in a marble tomb and I have joined you always to myself in death, as by your cleverness you matched a human.  Alas, we lost such pleasures for myself!  You, sweet Patrice, were accustomed to join us at our table, to beg charmingly for food (while sitting in our) laps.  You were in the habit of greedily licking our cups with your tongue, which my hands often held for you.  Frequently and joyfully (you) receive a weary one with your (wagging) tail...

tl;dr: this dog was named Patrice and was very, very loved.  (another translation with some glossing of the text.)

[red-faced-wolf-deactivated20251]

[ospreyonthemoon]

It's the fact she's joined to them in death, it's the fact that she sat in her owner's arms and ate their food. That he held the cups down for her to drink from....

Hundreds of years and we still know she was loved. We still know how she liked to sleep. All these years!! Loving dogs is the same!!!!

[thaylepo]

gonna point out too that 15 years is an INSANELY long lifespan for a dog in ancient Rome. This dog was both well loved and well cared for to have lived so long. Obvs there's going to be some statistical overlap with ancient dogs with loving epitaphs having longer lifespans, but in a world without modern vetrinary science or medicine, no canine vaccines, and no nutritionally formulated dog food, this Roman's beloved pooch exceeded even the average pet dog lifespan today.

[aesungaia]