a happy little storm

@aielylois's writing journal/diary -- lane (they/them) 20s -- an eclectic collection of writing, rambling about writing, and attempting to explain my writing -- tag game (and generally) friendly :)

[whyylois]

not another introduction! :o

and just as the seasons change, so too does the cycle of me using this blog begins again lol

heyo and welcome to a happy little storm! call me yl or lane (yes, as in, 'lois lane' lol), and this here is my writeblr/studyblr sideblog! (my main is @aielylois, which is where I share my original poetry)

the facts are these:

imp disguised as an adult

they/them/siya pronouns (and yes, that's the Filipino siya)

genderfae/genderqueer

signs off posts with -ylm

predominantly a writer of poetry but existing evidence suggests a penchant for prose

why am I back on my blogging bullshit? well, I started my PhD recently and I just wanted somewhere where I could vent into the void anonymously and not worry about my 'reputation' as an aspiring academic lol

of course, anonymity is a luxury, but I hope this blog is far-removed enough from any semblance of my being that I can just vaguepost into the void lol

but if you do somehow recognise me: I urge you to not 👀 XD

I don't have the patience nor the time to make aesthetic posts, so be prepared for vagueposts featuring [redacted]! (both literally and metaphorically lol)

all my main tags are below the cut, but hey, my inbox is open if ya want to chat! just allow 3-5 business days for a response lol

take care,

lane (-ylm)

my tags

all my original posts

specifically my rambles/rants/misc lol

my studyblr posts

my original writing

my OCs // The Crew > The Crew wip page // Anagolay Lost

my original poetry

music I listen to (and talk about lol)

books I've read / am currently reading

movies I've watched

creds

icon: this picrew by hiiragi_0118 on Twitter

sidebar: Etienne Girardet on Unsplash

[kosmogrl]

[babyjanedough]

Already know I wanna send this to people on June 1

[noahkahanblog]

The live recorded or Heading North ft the crickets on background vocals

[nixscriptum]

[iww-gnv]

Our Union Hall Needs Help!

Friends, followers, and Fellow Workers, the Gainesville IWW's beloved union hall, the Civic Media Center, is in need. The Civic Media Center of Gainesville, Florida, provides countless vital community resources, such as:

The Stetson Kennedy Library, a reading room and leftist library that is home to 15,000 books, journals, newspapers, and magazines.

The Travis Fristoe Zine Library, largest independent zine collection in the southeastern United States.

A meeting space for countless local activism and social justice groups such as the IWW, Food Not Bombs, and Books to Prisoners.

The Gainesville Free Store, which was founded to help local transgender people access affirming clothing and toiletries as well as other important items. The Free Store has seen so much success that they've expanded to serve the entire Gainesville community.

The Gainesville Free Grocery Store, which offers no-questions-asked food to anyone who walks in.

A cool, dry place to rest, with an open bathroom frequently used by our unhoused neighbors.

A venue for local musicians and poets to perform, including during the renowned music festival FEST.

So, so much more. Losing this community hub would be an absolutely devastating blow to our town and our union. We cannot let it die.

Via the Civic Media Center's own social media:

Dear friends, please us survive the Summer Doldrums by renewing your membership or, if you can, making an extra donation in whatever amount you can spare to help us cover rent, bills, and some extra work on our facilities this summer. Here is the direct link to the membership & donation page on our website: https://www.civicmediacenter.org/get-involved If you have Venmo or PayPal you can also just make a contribution using the handle in the graphic below. Thank you for supporting the CMC!

Please, if you can, help us out with a signal boost or a donation -- we love our union hall, and our community needs it!

[luminote]

[ndnbutch]

a slightly older poem that’s been given a few new edits for a project I’m working on. transcription under the cut

I Woke Up In The Morning And Decided Not To Die Today

Bless my foolish, hopeful heart

Despite it all, I really do want to live

I want to live so badly I’m screaming for it

Like a newborn crying out

I am here, World, I am hungry

I want to live

All pretense has vanished

In the most spectacular way

I don’t long for, not at a distance

I don’t dream of

But I want

Like a miracle, finally, I want

I want warm nights

And warm hands

I want to sip too cold water

And remind me I have an inside

I want to eat an orange with breakfast

And recite Wendy’s poem in my head

I want to hold onto life as tightly as I can

With every finger

And when I die I want to go laughing

When I die I want it to hurt

Like a hug that’s too tight

Death will greet me like a long-lost friend

Pleased that it took me so long

[glasswaters]

On the day of my birth, my mother gave to me the funeral shroud she'd been weaving her whole life — seafoam and salt, and the pressure of the ocean floor. An oyster-mouth, holding just underneath a weary tongue something foreign.

I do not remember her voice. The recall comes in waves, building and breaking and bubbling overhead: the swipe of a hand, a flash of teeth, the delicate fabric and the way her tail twitched whenever the sea lay still and sunlit, and entirely clear.

The fluttering of her gills against my cheek.

On the day of my death, my sisters gave to me their desperate, wailing hands. From within the cresting of the waves, they reached me, already halfway in the grave.

Mother's legacy around my shoulders and in my eyes, and holding the shards of my heart together with hands that knew nothing, with a tongue so withered it might as well have fused into the soft wanting of my throat, I was already spilling blood down the side of the ship.

There is a haze over my eyes, mother mine, and through it, everything looks too far away to touch. This fabric is cool, and soft, and I know every turn and fold of it. Years I have spent handling it, years I have spent looking for you in between the weft and the warp.

Mother-of-pearl, lay yourself around the shapes I cannot deny. Keep apart my mouth, and crawl into my gills. Build yourself, layer upon layer, around this stupid wanton heart, preserve for posterity, if you will, the fingerprints and the teeth marks, and the ache.

I am, blood and all, my mother's issue. I am, teeth and all, spread open for my father's grief.

[jay-rayart]

How many cartoons can you name where a Black boy is the hero? Not the sidekick, not the comic relief, but the center of the story, the one who gets to dream, to fall, to grow, to save the day. For too many Black boys, the first time they see themselves reflected back isn’t in a world of imagination it’s in headlines, obituaries, or mugshots. That kind of visibility shapes how the world sees them, and how they begin to see themselves.

FLY exists to shake up that narrative.

Coming soon: FLY : A Magical Black Boy Series - Pilot Animatic

A coming of age story about Black kids who finally have power to fight back against systems designed against them.

[noneofthesewillbringdisaster]

I have been trying to write a poem about how beautiful my friends are for three days now. But some things do not get to be poems. Instead, the moment slips in here beneath the gold pub chandelier and you must swallow it without a word no matter how much you may try to call yourself a writer.

[cryptotheism]

Don’t you have to read good books to be a good writer?

You need a balanced diet of Peak, Dogshit, indulgent tripe, top 40 shit, almost-peak, niche peak, and experimental avante garde shit.

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

re my "read books that make you feel stupid" post: reading books you don't fully understand is probably the safest way to push yourself outside your comfort zone. you don't have to embarrass yourself in front of anyone. you can do it from your cozy bed. you can easily get help from book clubs or literary analysis online. you can go as slowly as you want. there's literally no risk.

[and-fishing-equipment]

in 2026 DO NOT ask yourself whether your art is GOOD

instead ask:

is it SINCERE

was it CATHARTIC

was it FUN TO MAKE

is it MADE BY ME

and don't forget to stay silly

[inkskinned]

one day, despite everything, a really clear and present peace will descend on you, and you will find yourself almost retroactively feeling that peace as it happens: you'll realize it's been a few minutes or hours or days since you Thought About It. you'll notice that you're actually fully relaxed and you've been relaxed for a little while. that while today might be a normal day, it felt like a normal day - it was a little tiring, but not overly so; there were moments of fun in there, and you got to see a little bit of beauty. you will realize that in between the self-help books you've "read" (glanced over) and the podcasts and the journaling, this moment is the tip of a long and beautiful ship you've been swimming towards for years now. you will realize: you've been teaching (coaching, parenting, punishing-sometimes, but ultimately yes - loving) yourself to see the beauty in the world, and now you do it almost automatically, by rote. you will realize that happiness is not just the wild abandon of summer; the concerts and the parties and the beaches. happiness is like love: it is gentle and soft, unassuming. it is confident and ready, a stable and earnest peace that is not the brittle holding of your childhood but instead a real and impenetrable wall; a thing that once-felt cannot be dismissed. a thing that will always be there, in a sense, or at least will be something you could always make again - and you know this because you built it.

in that place you will finally find yourself. when you were little and decided enough was enough and decided you would survive this and decided that you were the master of your own fate: the person waiting for you in this peace is the version of you that you wished on. you looked years into the future and knew it would take work and diligence and failure. that you would be scrambling and backsliding. and you still said, back then: i want to meet who i am when i'm happy.

and oh, my love. it will be so worth it, all that waiting.

[noahkahanblog]

End of August means I’ll have to play piano on tour and let me tell you I am absolutely horrible at it

[ghsot]

everyones got that fic they chip away at like michaelangelo sculpting david. and brother? its penis month

[ghsot]

asked my friends if they knew what i was referencing and they said no. we all know that post where someone divided how long it took michelangelo to sculpt david by it's size and went "yuuuuup. whole month spent on penis" right. sure, my search history is full variations upon "michelangelo penis month tumblr" to no avail, but we all know it. right.

[itriedonce]

Hi, that was a MBMBAM bit. But i see you and i hear you and i dont know if someone already said something

[ghsot]

oh my god youre right.

[transformativeworks]

[ID: Screenshot of a transcript.

Travis: Yeah. It well--but it's seventeen feet tall divided by twenty-four months means that every month he crafted point seven--so like about three-quarters of a foot. Right? So, nine inches. So yes, I could say that just statistically speaking, there was a wiener month.

Griffin: Okay. "So how was your September, Michelangelo?" "It was, it was intense."

/ID]