#pseudonymous

[wyrmeleon]

The Pseudonymous Captain

[catmint1]

Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

—César A. Cruz

[plush-escapism]

Shoot! I've been spotted!

- Pseudonymous 🦊💝

[tea-writes0]

A pseudonym is a fictitious name used to conceal someone’s real name. The word pseudonym literally means “false name” and comes from the Greek word pseudonymous meaning “heaving a false name” or “under a false name.” Most of your favorite authors, actors, and musicians are probably pseudonyms. Some just use nicknames or just put their initials, some change their whole names to create personas. A pseudonym can also be called a pen name for writers or a stage name or screen name for actors and musicians. Fictional characters have pseudo names as well. Some people can change their name for criminal activity too. Groups of people can be considered a pseudonym when they have a collective group name: this mainly happens in the music industry. Many creators do this to keep their personal life and work life separate. Like I mentioned some can create personas as a way of separating themselves from what people know them for. For example, Chappell Roan’s real name is Kayleigh Amstutz but prefers to be called Chappell when people talk about her as a way to keep her work life separate and maybe it gives a piece of mind knowing that people aren’t talking about her real self a bit. That’s why some people change their name so when the public talks about them it’s mostly about their persona not them even though it’s still them. I believe it’s a mind over matter kind of thing.

[rowboat-collective]

Ghosts

(Rowan B. Nicholson)

I had the sudden urge to hold my breath, driving past the new housing development

Like the way some people do with cemeteries.

Mom always said it was because you had to be careful

Not to inhale someone else's soul

And I always wondered what the range was on that

How far do you have to get from a cemetery before you're no longer in danger of accidentally coming home carrying something that is not yours?

How long do you have between seeing the cemetery and remembering to hold your breath?

Or is it the other way around

Is there a bubble of time where you're vulnerable

Can they see you before you see them

Could a crafty soul

a quick, enterprising soul

slip its way in between your breaths

before you ever get a chance to defend yourself?

It was different, though,

with the housing development.

There were no crafty souls here,

no quick, enterprising souls flitting around the top of the fence.

I held my breath as I passed by the housing development,

pressed my lips together like a gate,

not to keep any spare souls from coming home with me

but to ensure that mine made it out in one piece.

[rowboat-collective]

Elements of Being

(Rowan B. Nicholson)

Science recognizes one hundred and eighteen elements:

hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon,

and so on and so forth

all the way down

to livermorium, tennessine, oganesson.

I find it much less daunting

to stick to the original four—

earth, air, fire, water—

The universe is already so vast

endless

boundless

why do we feel the need to define every

little

thing?

On bad days, I pretend that I grew out of the ground.

I root myself into the earth

with my big square hands

and my strong round feet

and hold on with my teeth and my nails

like a dandelion with no head,

insistent upon growing here

right

here

in

this

spot.

On good days, I pretend that I am made out of a cloud.

I package myself up in silks

and point my toes

and paint my face in my own mockery,

and float down the sidewalk

on high-heeled skis

glowing pink and yellow

strawberry lemon.

On very bad days,

I remind myself over and over and over and over

that I am made out of fire

a rose out of my own ashes.

On very good days,

I pretend that I am made out of water

poured momentarily into a vessel

frozen into one shape

but only for right now—

tomorrow I can

and will

be something entirely different.

On days that are not good

but that are also not that bad

I am made out of some elusive fifth element

some impossible Option C

that is just fluid enough to know that it wants to escape

out of every pore.

On those days I am made out of stardust.

(Yes, I know, we are all made out of stardust all the time,

which also says something about what I am

all the time

but you can’t always feel it, you know?)

Some days, I can feel it.

Some days, I feel it filling me

prickling at the edges of my skin

fizzling behind my eyes

and I guess there’s a spectrum there

between stardust and just

dust—

but even dust is never just dust.

Dust is, itself, somewhere between the states of matter;

it’s made of solids

but moves like a liquid:

astronomers draw no line between gas and dust.

Those same astronomers say that stardust—

like the physical dust that eventually forms stars,

cosmic dust—

tastes like raspberries

and smells like rum,

and maybe that’s just what I’m made out of some days,

a nebulous cloud of raspberries and rum

and dust.

Elementally

fundamentally

ineffable

unexplainable

unlikely

inevitable.

[rowboat-collective]

g***** b**** a*** d****

(Louisa Spencer)

he will press on your mouth with his mouth

and on your hips with his hips

and on your thighs with his thighs

and everywhere else with his hands

his hands

his hands

all at once

and you will feel the pressure of his body on yours

his body

on yours

your body

pressure

press

and of his mind worming its way in

through your ears

sotto voce

and it’s just for you

because you’re special

because you’re something special

because you’re something

something else

something he wants

wants

wants

he wants you

don’t you want that?

nobody wan—

he wants you.

and there will be a promise

and you won’t know when you made it

but you will know that you’ll keep it

they’ll talk if you talk

so you keep your mouth shut

until he opens it with his tongue

and even then you’re not talking

not talking

are you

don’t you

won’t you

you won’t

he will tell you that he loves you

and you will know

you will know

you will know it isn’t the truth

but we hear what we want to hear

especially when it wants us to hear it too

repetition is good for the memory

repetition is good for the memory

repetition is good

thanks for the memories

will you remember me?

do you remember me?

he will take advantage

of every opportunity

to take advantage of you

but you’re convinced it’s doing you some good

experience is doing you some good

this is doing you some good

learning is doing you some good

he’s doing you some good

escapism is doing you some good

you’re good

he said it’s good for you

good for you to grow up

grow up

grow up

little girl

grow up

climb up

lift up

wake up

stay down

kneel down

lie down

reach down

look down

hair in your face

look down

look up

look ahead

i want you to

i want you

he says

look up

like you’re topless and showing your breasts to the world

he says

like that

i like that

he will whisper secrets in your ear.

they won’t be his secrets

they will belong to everybody else you know

and then they will belong to you

and you will keep coming back to buy more

like exchanging currency at the airport

before leaving the country

and you won’t question where he bought his

or what he bought them with

or what he buys with them

sometime it will be too far

and you will say something

say anything

lie to him

lie to me

was it a lie?

who decides?

he’s not on top of you anymore

you’re not sleeping

that’s good

that’s something

you can move on

you can stand up

and you won’t say a thing

and he will move on