Reminds Me Of The Part In A Crown Of Candy Where Liam Picks Change As His Wish. It’s So Silly That

I have a concussion now and am having an extremely difficult time resting. All I can think about is how Riz’s greatest fear is sleeping on the job. I’m scared that if I don’t rest enough now, I’ll have brain damage but resting is so hard

I did mostly have nightmares last night but I also dreamt of a Psych - Leverage crossover where they were also Scooby Doo. They were chasing various mythical monsters through the suburbs. I cannot tell you how it ended because I woke up. Shawn was Freddie

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

People keep calling me “type A.”

Yeah. A for autism

The way Brennan says “ketchup” is crazy. I have never heard anyone say it like that before. Could not focus on anything happening due to the way Brennan says “ketchup”

The energy in this episode is so aggressively “we have been filming for way too long.” Thinking about Brennan a few Adventuring Parties ago saying something like “you think this is crazy. Check out a few weeks from now.” He was correct

If I get stressed during my exam today, I will simply to the wenis and be reminded that I am a genius that knows it in advance

I started crying about here and then continued for the rest of the movie

“It is literally impossible to be a woman. You’re so beautiful and so smart. And it kills me you don’t think you’re good enough. Like we have to always be extraordinary. But somehow we’re always doing it wrong. You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin! You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money, because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about you kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men’s bad behavior which is insane but if you point that out you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood but always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged so find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old. Never be rude. And never show off. Never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory! And nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong but also everything is your fault! I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie ourselves into knots so that people will like us.” -Gloria (America Ferrera, BARBIE)

i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.

Can’t wait for the most chaotic cast members to be placed in a room together with the most unhinged Brennan there has ever been to make an extremely improvised season of D20. Definitely nothing weird is gonna happen