rip to the printer technician tomorrow who has to process the art print of a character who may or may not be wearing a gimp suit.
seen from China

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seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Spain

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
rip to the printer technician tomorrow who has to process the art print of a character who may or may not be wearing a gimp suit.
alright then.
vigilante (2005)
I s2g if my chiropractor appt yesterday triggered this pelvic pain I'm going to be sooooo pissed
hey go read @ihavenotaclue ‘s Awesome Fic because: its breathtaking
What do you write when you don’t know what to write about?
That’s the question I’ve been screaming to the heavens for the last year or so. It’s like I expect some sort of divine inspiration to come along and compel me to furiously type away at something, like, totally genius.
I need to let go of that notion. (I’m typing out that obvious point as a reminder to my sluggish brain. They say if you *truly* want to remember something, you must write it down.)
So, what now? I’m clearly a much more enlightened individual than I was a few sentences ago. I realize that no one is going to hand me some glorious, incandescent nugget to spin a tale around. Let’s go back to the basics.
They say write what you know.
I’m twenty-two years old, and I know very, VERY little about a lot of things. There is likely not one topic I could write a great deal about, but there are a million micro-topics I could write perhaps a fragment or - if I’m lucky - a sentence about.
Perhaps if I start with these small pieces - the things I think I know - they will take me someplace else. (Although, as an enlightened person, I know not to make assumptions.)
1. Parents are highly fallible human beings. This makes sense as most of us can barely make sure our own shit is straight, while parents are in charge of not only their own shit, but also other people’s shit.
2. Everyone should invest in decorative baskets, because they hide (and beautify) microcosms of mess and clutter.
3. Twenty-two year olds shouldn’t be allowed platforms such as this to spew garbage. Unless you’re, like, Tavi Gevinson or something.
I'm only 16 and I'm nearing 6 foot.