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my rights are melting into oil-slick puddles all around me. the saint louis blues are having one hell of a season. if i don’t keep going, i’ll collapse. psalm 23: a psalm of our lord; a psalm of david… surely the goodness and mercy of the lord our god will follow me all the days of my life.
i was not made to “adhere to genre conventions”. i was born to run along a beach barefoot and nude like if robinson crusoe was gay
feelings cancelled. can’t believe letting yourself feel cancels a crashout. shit’s gas. i will not let myself go back to what hurts me and im literally so sexy swaggy cool for that like what i’m so based.
the trouble with practicing mindfulness and healing emotionally and getting a job and trying to be more present in my life means that my fics all suck right now. i’m not even writing the sex parts. if i can get a job in the dish pit somewhere maybe this will change and i will astral project into storytelling while my fingers get pruny.
im gonna start a charity that will pair every “i hate small talk, tell me something deep” man with a homeless or elderly person who doesn’t often get a chance to talk with people. them mfs do not mess around. today a man told me that i had received 11 thousand blessings in the span of my lifetime without knowing my fucking name. and do you wanna know what? kevin was right. i have.
19 is such an unromantic age for spring. in winter it’s all well and good, it serves like an overcoat and scarf. it coats all embarrassment about who you are in a thick layer of frost and ennui- so what if i’m boring. winter serves as a modifier to the shame of being boring while young. it’s winter, i’m 19, light my cigarette about it. but in spring? and, god forbid, summer? it seems almost chaste, as a number. to be 18 in summer was monumental, a symbol of incredible, defining freedom, a maidenhead and a maiden voyage all at once, even if i knew as i was 18 that it was humiliating to be 18. but 19? in spring? that winter ennui is remaining even now that the frosts are melting. how horrifically embarrassing it is to be 19 in spring! hustler and virgin all in one. i don’t even like good music.
as a psa
-i’m in the middle of changing my major and getting a new job
-my usual beta reader is in the middle of a compsci degree and busy as hell
-my other beta reader is about to give up romance/porno for lent
expect a little over 35k words of scythebelts as soon as college takes it’s boot off my neck- or, more likely, expect it with the end of lent and the return of our lord and savior jesus christ, on easter sunday.
this is so random for my blog but like. i am going to remove the respectability politics from myself and those around me with a pairing knife if it kills me. this goes both directions. no i do not care if the homeless person in this shelter trashed the bathroom while using. it pisses me off but closing that bathroom doesn’t provide them a safer place to use and it means nobody else can take a piss. where can we let them use instead? no i do not care if that baby gay is snobby and rude and standoffish. i was snobby and rude and standoffish and it was because i felt desperately unheard. how do we let them know that behavior doesn’t serve them? i do not care if the guy in line with me at the community kitchen voted red. my anger will not feed either of us. how do i help us both eat tonight?