A pick-up line i came up with that I’d never use because I’m aromantic and anxious:
If beauty were a piece of music then my love you are the greatest symphony of them all
Feel free to use this if you want as I have no use for it (:
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Today I have seen children laughing, playfully sliding down the broken asphalt of an airstrike crater in a school parking lot. Today I have seen emaciated men smiling at the rain and collecting water. Palestinians teach us life everyday.
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What a fucking game tonight (my ex bf who is an islanders fan texted me)
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it doesn't make a lick of sense knowing that not all of Pulp are still hanging around...
but for Steve Mackey to be missing makes absolutely no sense at all.
a brilliant bassist, artistic and inventive, ineffably cool. the soul of Pulp.
just last night i was hungover in the flat rewatching the music video for the Pulp single This Is Hardcore, and coincidentally, i saved this screencap of Steve. it is my single favourite shot in the video.
it's also very fitting. Steve loved film and was a filmmaker and photographer as well as a musician. he led Pulp into artier territory, shifted the band in new directions, and held together the album This Is Hardcore (where the single comes from) when most of the band were falling apart, steering it into new areas. his exemplary playing is also evident here, a wonderful sloping bass part underpinning the song.
farewell, Steve. seeing pictures of you, it's hard to adjust to the fact you've passed away, so i won't even bother. rest in peace. 🕊
maybe one day you and your bandmates will all meet up in the year 2000. <3
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Jarvis
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Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.
Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.
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why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?
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hiding in the bathroom again!
we're so back
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your love returns in tragedy (ID in alt)
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I've talked about this before, but emotional dysregulation is such a mother fucker aspect of ADHD.
Like, sure, not being able to regulate my attention sucks, but it's genuinely fucking nothing compared to the absolute rollercoaster of emotions I just went on because someone said something in a shitty tone, and now I'm having to actively walk myself through DBT methods lest my idiot shit for brains 'shiny-can't-sit-still-disorder' drop the match on that particular bridge because the rejection sensitive dysphoria feels like my chest is burning and not being able to act on the hurt feels like I'm suffocating under the weight of emotions pushing down on me and lashing out in anger is quicker than taking the time to self soothe.
And the annoying fucking thing is I know it's me.
I've done enough therapy to know my emotional response to their shittiness is overblown and dysregulated. I know I'm taking it to heart more than they could ever imagine.
And I've got to fucking sit with that and process it because if I don't, I'll be the inconsiderate cunt in this interaction and hhnnggg--wailing, gnashing, biting my thumb at you in the marketplace, etc, etc.
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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This might be a hot take but can Mrs.Flood just be Mrs.Flood who knows what a TARDIS is cause she lived in London all her life, where alien shit is happening at least once a year and is always accompanied by the doctor and a strange police box.
Yk the doc aren’t as subtle as they think they are, word gets around as to what the box actually is.
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Go and love someone exactly as they are. then, watch how they transform into the greatest truest version of themselves. when one feels seen and appreciated in their own essence, one is instantly empowered.
Wes Angelozzi
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ONE PIECE (2023)
Mackenyu as Roronoa Zoro
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more ppl need to talk about gwen’s prom look
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