seen from Russia
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seen from United States
I was afraid to listen to something my fave had been in because I had a feeling they'd say a word I'd rather not have heard them say. I thought I could predict when it would happen and take my headphones out at the right time. I was wrong.
It's not the end of the world, but it's never going to be erased from my mind.
It's been two weeks since I got home and I'm still incredibly in my feelings about the Posthuman Cabaret (more thoughts below, photos by Nora Bellamy and Lauren Jennings).
For a week I got to live the very best version of my life; working and laughing with some of the kindest, warmest, most talented people I've ever had the privilege to call my friends. Returning to the stage to be a part of something much bigger than myself. Meeting people who told me they were so affected by some songs I sang in my apartment a few years ago that they flew all the way out to hear me sing them in person. It was a week of doing the things I love with people I love, and it was beautiful.
Now, I'm home. My new friends are all far away, as are most of my old ones, and I've never been particularly adept at keeping in contact across distances. I'm chipping away at my novel, haphazardly plunking away at joanna newsom songs on the piano, all to keep myself sane through dealing with the Plymouth public in my retail job. I'm surviving. But for that one week, my lord, I was living.
I missed theater. I missed singing. I missed performing. But really I missed working together with a community of people I connected with to build art together. That's what's truly special to me. It's hard to not know when that feeling will arrive again.
But it will someday, and when it does, it'll be magical.
Of Note // 28.09.20
“Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them — work, family, health, friends, and spirit… and you’re keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls — family, health, friends, and spirit — are made of glass.” I had a baby! My daughter was born on her due date at the end of August, and my partner and I instantaneously felt all of our priorities shift — not unlike the way every part of my body had adjusted to make room for the tiny-but-chubby human inside me. I love advice and love lists and this is a nice list of pieces of life advice Ryan Holiday has collected over the years to remind me to keep my eye on the glass ball. (Forge)
“Under the sheer volume of competing facts and studies, news stories and social media posts that bludgeon us daily, we succumb to truth-lite. The overwhelm sees us seek expedient options”: Sarah Wilson has some ideas on why the wellness realm has fallen into “conspiratualism.” (The Guardian)
“All these men, some of whom I knew intimately and others I’d never met, were debating who owned an image of me”: Emily Ratajkowski can’t buy back her own image but can claim to have the final word in this devastating story (that subsequently went viral) of her abuse and exploitation in her modelling career (The Cut).
On the other hand, Ratajkowski may have missed an opportunity to broaden her argument to include people other than herself, writes Haley Nahman. Without further analysis of the complexity of the modelling industry and Ratajkowski’s own complicity in its value system (the male gaze, female objectification, and self-commodification), the essay falls into a common trap in late-capitalist reflective writing: “which is to assume that by simply calling out a problem, or exploiting it in her favor, she takes away its power.” (Maybe Baby)
For more on this idea of “the reflexivity trap,” Katy Waldman dared take on Sally Rooney and other contemporary novelists whose protagonists believe self-awareness absolves them of any need to effect genuine, systemic change: “that professing awareness of a fault absolves you of that fault—that lip service equals resistance.” In a moment that desperately demands more than performative lip service, the danger of the reflexivity trap is that is casts self-awareness as a finish line, not a starting point. (New Yorker)
“It would be a disaster for feminism to return either to a strictly biological understanding of gender or to reduce social conduct to a body part or to impose fearful fantasies, their own anxieties, on trans women... Their abiding and very real sense of gender ought to be recognised socially and publicly as a relatively simple matter of according another human dignity”: Judith Butler does not come to play. (New Statesman)
“She chose her words precisely, like silver arrows sailing to hit their targets. Instead of referring to something as “racist,” she called it “thoughtlessness”; she referred to underrepresented groups as “misfits.” She is aware of the ways words like racism and microaggression have lost their power, so she searched for new ones that might make people listen”: I watched and loved Michaela Coel’s incredible TV show I May Destroy You. It will be compared maybe to Girls and Fleabag because of the way we always fetishise and compare female creators, and it’s not unlike those shows but it’s also something completely original and beautiful and unique. E. Alex Jung has written the definitive profile — read after watching (Vulture)
First picnic since lockdown began
Things I Accomplished in 2018
Hello, friends. I don’t normally make a post about this - I don’t think I do, anyways. I don’t normally feel like I’ve done enough to bother making a post about it, really. But I sat down today, and I got thinking, and I realized - shit. I’ve actually done quite a bit this year. I’m still a hermit, but I wasn’t as much of a hermit, I guess.
So I thought I’d make a post. As much for my own sake, almost to prove to myself that I’ve done it, as it is to share. Some things I accomplished in 2018 were: (long post so beneath a cut you go)
hey everyone!! i haven’t done blogrates or anything of the sort in awhile so i wanted to do one when i hit 1k.. that was last month & i was super busy but now i’m finally free & i just hit 1.1k!!!!! this is still super insane to me but thank you from the bottom of my heart. to show my appreciation, i’m gonna do a fun little blograte celebration :)
rules
mbf this brucethor
reblog this post
send an ask w/ up to two of the following:
💕 + your favourite movie for a normal rate
☁️ + tell me how your day’s going for a blog compliment
✨ + your favourite sw character for a star wars themed rate
⚡ + your favourite mcu scene/moment for a marvel themed rate
🌸 + your name & something that makes you happy for a name aesthetic
🦄 + your favourite summer activity for a detailed rate (this is an exception! if you want this you can’t choose any other rate)
please be patient!
format under the cut
Leave the horns on.
real things I've done while watching dunkirk
sobbed
screamed all of jack lowden's lines directly after he said them
asked the security guard if there's a problem sir
wondered where's the bloody air force
whispered "my sweet, sweet boy," every time fionn was on screen
turtleneck
prayed to whatever God is listening
softly hummed the melody of sweet creature every time harry opened his mouth
sighed with relief
screamed directly after sighing with relief
"he's on me" "I'm on him" sweet hells so am I tom so am I
smushed fionn's face between my hands
je suis français
was fairly certain it's just the fuel gauge
donated my organs to aneurin barnard
sang sweet songs, songs of home
wept
waved at aneurin's dying hand
questioned my whole sexuality and reason for being
gently, gently rowed away
aged twenty-five years
ascended into the mountains of Valhalla
opened a portal to hell
begged to be taken prisoner
I'm not someone who can just fuck you. Cause whenever we had sex with each article of clothing I took off I had to take a moment to think, "damn you are art."
