Discover Top Posts Tagged with #train rider

Mike Brodie. 3018 from the book A Period of Juvenile Prosperity

#Mike Brodie #train hopping #train rider #train #railways #shoes #train surfing #photography

Florida Mann: Train Kid from Florida

Obie Inspired Moodboard (1/?)

He'd grown up in central Florida, working in HVAC, wading through swamps full of gators and moccasins in the dark to evade cops, and slinging coke for Haitians just to survive.

A criminal record sent him searching for hope and opportunity out of state. When all else failed and the world seemed against him, he ran away on a freight train and never looked back.

Whenever winter brought him back down to Florida, he made his home by the tracks of CSX, FEC, and USSC.

I can’t even tell you how much it pains me, as a feminist and a vain person, to see an article talking about how “older, mature” models are making a comeback...and then they prove it by mentioning how a 36 year old woman modeled for a magazine cover. Like I am not out of my twenties yet but I’m aware that to the rest of the world I am “passed my prime,” and although I’m always insisting that life doesn’t end at 25, I am painfully aware that all of the adventures that make good stories happened to me before then. I’m aware that I’m boring now and there’s definitely comfort in that because it means I’m stable, but damn it if I don’t miss being manic and ridiculous and fearless sometimes. For me that means something different than for most people (I did party til I was homeless after all), and tbh as much as I like to look back you couldn’t pay me to get on a freight train again. I can’t imagine sleeping in a squat—they don’t have air conditioning. Half of a cocktail gives me a headache and I cry now when I come down off of uppers so I think I’m good with being “passed my prime” and boring. I’m even good with people *knowing* I’m boring so they know not to invite me to a party that’s not a dinner party or a party that it actually a book club meeting with cake. I never really cared about how I looked as a young adult (I never wore make up, never shaved much, wore the same two or three outfits and always had dreads or a haircut that looked like I had just cut my dreads—so very short, never done by a professional. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve had a professional haircut), but I also didn’t have to try very hard. I’ve found that I care a little more now that I have to actually *try* in a sense (like to keep weight off). It’s hard to feel ok with my body changing from what I looked like when I was young, because I know that it’s not gonna be long til people just consider me irrelevant. In eight years it would be an anomaly worth mentioning if someone found me attractive, like the weird article about how amazing it is that Kate Moss still looked “hot” (young) at 36. But when I think a little deeper about it and realize it’s only gonna be men and misogynists who consider me irrelevant, and that there is only one person in the world whose opinion on my looks I care about (and he calls me beautiful when I look dumpy af and after gaining like 30 lbs) and I feel better. After feeling the betrayal of male “friends” only hanging out with me because they wanted to fuck me I’m fine about not being attractive to men I think (but I also don’t seek out friendships with men ever and have not really maintained the ones I had “before.” Meaning like before my life changed.)

Disclaimer to add that I understand that it’s not very punk rock, cash money, or radfem to worry about my looks. I cared very much in high school and wore a full face of make up every day and shaved every day. My lifestyle liberated me from that mindset and then feminism did it even more. I am not free from the voyeur in my own mind and feeling like I have to look beautiful all the time. Even when giving up the routines of hair, body hair, make up, clothes, etc, I was conforming to what a new demographic of men found attractive (not because they’re enlightened or anything. Just because they view it all as part of the lifestyle and the aesthetic we maintained in order to recognize who was who. I almost want to say we had a dress code. You can tell who was worth your time by how they dressed (of course people who followed this idea very strictly were ass holes, I’m just saying that you can tell subcultures apart). A train kid would look different than a rainbow kid, even some cops can tell the difference, which benefits you greatly when he hates rainbow kids and anyone who consorts with them. This one cop was like “I hate them, I know you probably hate them too, so if you see one, keep walking. I bring rainbow kids to jail if I can and if I catch you talking to one I’ll bring you in too.” I was happy with that because it gave me a more urgent reason to tell those idiots to piss off. #enlightenedcop. I got off topic but yeah I’m trying to retrain my mind with body neutrality as well as getting a bunch of tattoos that are actually good.

#personal #body neutrality #train rider #radical feminism #radfem #feminism #radicalfeminism #radical feminist #radicalfeminist #oogle

This is from a few weeks ago. My train ride from Kansas City, Missouri, to Shreveport, Louisiana. Got off and almost went to jail fast af because the bull in Shreveport HATES US