Angel @shroomiebaby - Tumblr Blog

A monstrous turtle emerges from the muck.

Its gigantic.

Look closely - a typically-sized Midwestern turtle sits next to its foot.

It must be close to its size-limit, with a possible 30-inch diameter shell and weighing well in an excess of 100 pounds. Its possible that this beast is 40+ years old.

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anarchistmemedistro

hairy-dykes-r-us

"These countries aren't poor! You don't go to poor countries to make money!"

-Michael Parenti

spookypineflair

"These countries are not underdeveloped, they are overexploited."

championoftheravenqueen

every time I hear someone say “we should just get rid of physical shops and have everything online” I get a bit angry because

a) physical shops are important for those who don’t have access to a computer/ internet/ ect

b) those “weird” and “niche” shops I love so much don’t have the same vibe online, they turn into just another website

c) I hate paying for shipping

randomnessoffiction

d) Less shipping packaging is good for the environment

kaththedragon

e) It’s useful to see things in person before you buy them

dreamilypurpleoutcast

librarycards

Pigeons are doves. They are rock doves, and I wonder if we began to call them that if people would hesitate to hate them, as doves have that history as messengers of peace. It is true that in my neighborhood nobody hates the mourning doves, dusky and elegant with wings that squeak as if they flap on rusty hinges. They roost on the wires like little Audrey Hepburns, while the pigeons troll the ground, tough and fat, some of them look like they should be smoking cigarettes. They look poor and banged up, like they could kick the mourning doves’ asses but are wise to the divide-and-conquer tactics we use on one another, so they coo wearily at the mourning doves and waddle forth in search of scavenged delights. What you may not know is when you call a pigeon “a rat with wings” you have given it a compliment. The only thing a rat lacks is a pair of wings to lift it, so you have named the pigeon perfectly. When you say to me, “I hate pigeons,” I want to ask you who else you hate. It makes me suspicious.

I once met a girl who was so proud to have hit such a bird on her bicycle, I swear, I thought that it was me she hit. I felt her handlebars in my stomach and now it is your job to feel it also. The pigeons are birds, they are doves. They are the nature of the city and the ones who no one loves. When people say they hate pigeons, I want to ask them if they hate themselves, too. Does it prick the well of your loathing? Do they make you feel dirty and ashamed? Are you embarrassed about how little or how much you have, for how you have had to hustle? Being dirty is not a problem for the pigeon. You can ask it, “How do you feel about having the city coating your feathers, having the streets gunked up in the crease of your eye?” and the pigeon would say, “Not a problem.” You will now stop blaming the pigeon. It is not the pigeon’s fault. The pigeon was once a dove, and then we built our filthy empire up around it, came to hate it for simply thriving in the midst our decay, came to hate it for not dying. The pigeon is your ally. They are chameleons, gray as the concrete they troll for scraps, at night they huddle and sing like cats. Their necks are glistening, iridescent as an oil-slick rainbow, they mate for life, and they fly.

Michelle Tea, Against Memoir. [emphasis mine]

ballwizard

Make a little birdhouse in your soul. Bitch

soilthesimpletruth

Full sun.

Drought tolerant.

Prolific producer.

Malabar spinach y’all.

heavyrain-dc

“Promise me not to hide yourself when you’re in pain, it’s unfair that we laughed together but you cried alone”

— Unknown

canadianbeerandpostmodernism

“ For The Buffalo that could not dream, German photographer Felix von der Osten chronicles life on Montana’s the Fort Belknap Reservation, where since 1888, the Gros Ventre and Assiniboine Native American tribes have raised their families and continued to foster a deeply-felt respect for the land. “

Full article here: http://www.featureshoot.com/2015/04/fascinating-portraits-give-us-a-window-into-native-american-life-on-a-reservation-in-montana/

platakni-jaded

You know what, I have gotten my life limit of looking at pictures of natives that white people have taken. Hell, we still gotta deal with Curtis and his baggage he left. Also, the photographer was there for a month and suddenly can shoot photos with feeling that a Native couldn’t have done with an eye far more clear for having experienced it their whole life?

No, my friends and family, you want to see some amazing work, look into the book, “Shooting Back From the Reservation”, where Native children were given cameras to capture their lives and did so with grace and laughter and leave this German bozo alone.

platakni-jaded

All right, Fam, I got some pretty horrible hate mail for this opinion of mine so now I’m going to expand on my LOVE for “Shooting Back from the Reservation”, and why I dislike this German man’s photos of Natives.

If you have seen Edward Curtis photos (and who hasn’t?) these were taken in the same vein and tell about as much about Natives as Curtis’ did (which is not a lot).

Posed, un-smiling, dressed in regalia - heck, not one picture that this Felix guy took has anyone who is smiling! Not even the children! All posed and stern, with serious faces - this is not the full reality and isn’t the most important part of our communities! Even in the landscape pictures he conveyed isolation and emptiness when it’s not really like that. How can the land be empty when my grandpa taught me how to speak to it?

Shooting Back was made by Native children who were sharing and exploring different aspects of their LIVES. It shows how life really is within a Native community by young Native people. It’s not someone who showed up on a reservation for a month because his girlfriend had extended family there and took pictures. This is a glimpse of a moment out of their day and holds so many aspects of their life that you cannot view from an outsider’s pictures.

It shows you that there is no one way a Native is suppose to look,

It has chubby babies with big heads and intelligent eyes,

And shows that often our places are run down, and held together with more than a little duct tape, WITHOUT it being poverty porn,

It shows the love of rez dogs and rez cars,

And dads that make funny faces just because he likes to hear you laugh,

It shows a cemetery with too many graves,

And those medicine wheels that your aunt makes when you get a new to you car,

It shows kids playing, goofing around, and laughing!

And standing kinda awkwardly next to a white guy,

And elders that make silly faces too!

But my favorite part of this book is that in a society where our Native youth have some of the highest suicide rates, where they are silenced twofold because not only are they Native but they are also children and apparently that means that you’re not a full person yet, this book gives them a platform for their voice.

And I. I just really love this book. So if you want to see what Native life is, not just the poverty porn and the Edward Curtis wannabes, please check this book out. That is all.