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@blossomboyj

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selec+ (the photographic showcase) no. 49 - montreal
Nazis crashing the fuck out at Elmo for no reason is one of my new favorite genres. Literally this pic:
When I was in grade school I used to send emails to biologists and zoologists asking them questions to get answers to include in school projects I was working on, and would cry when they did not respond because I thought I was stupid for thinking that some random kid would ever be deserving of a response from someone who does something as smart and cool and important as *checks notes* studies frog fungus.
Now, at 29, Iâm lowkey having a panic attack because my academic email is filled with middle schoolers wanting me to answer their questions about pygmy raccoons and I keep putting off answering them because Iâm so overwhelmed with all the other raccoon stuff I have to do.
Anyway, greatest apologies to any scientist I ever emailed as a child and also an adult.
I know your research is really important and I appreciate all you are doing but this is so fucking funny
âmake friendsâ who am i doctor franking stein

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how life feels when there's a sicko on the same disgusting freak wavelength as you
A PORN BOT UNFOLLOWED ME?
not that i care
Today's Seal Is: The Fujoshi
oh my god i didnt know there was a sequel image
new seasons greasons lore dropped

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Oh my god
âThey asked me to tell you what it was like to be twenty and pregnant in 1950 and when you tell your boyfriend youâre pregnant, he tells you about a friend of his in the army whose girl told him she was pregnant, so he got all his buddies to come and say, âWe all fucked her, so who knows who the father is?â And he laughs at the good jokeâŚ. What was it like, if you were planning to go to graduate school and get a degree and earn a living so you could support yourself and do the work you lovedâwhat it was like to be a senior at Radcliffe and pregnant and if you bore this child, this child which the law demanded you bear and would then call âunlawful,â âillegitimate,â this child whose father denied it ⌠What was it like? [âŚ] Itâs like this: if I had dropped out of college, thrown away my education, depended on my parents ⌠if I had done all that, which is what the anti-abortion people want me to have done, I would have borne a child for them, ⌠the authorities, the theorists, the fundamentalists; I would have born a child for them, their child. But I would not have born my own first child, or second child, or third child. My children. The life of that fetus would have prevented, would have aborted, three other fetuses ⌠the three wanted children, the three I had with my husbandâwhom, if I had not aborted the unwanted one, I would never have met ⌠I would have been an âunwed motherâ of a three-year-old in California, without work, with half an education, living off her parentsâŚ. But it is the children I have to come back to, my children Elisabeth, Caroline, Theodore, my joy, my pride, my loves. If I had not broken the law and aborted that life nobody wanted, they would have been aborted by a cruel, bigoted, and senseless law. They would never have been born. This thought I cannot bear. What was it like, in the Dark Ages when abortion was a crime, for the girl whose dad couldnât borrow cash, as my dad could? What was it like for the girl who couldnât even tell her dad, because he would go crazy with shame and rage? Who couldnât tell her mother? Who had to go alone to that filthy room and put herself body and soul into the hands of a professional criminal? â because that is what every doctor who did an abortion was, whether he was an extortionist or an idealist. You know what it was like for her. You know and I know; that is why we are here. We are not going back to the Dark Ages. We are not going to let anybody in this country have that kind of power over any girl or woman. There are great powers, outside the government and in it, trying to legislate the return of darkness. We are not great powers. But we are the light. Nobody can put us out. May all of you shine very bright and steady, today and always.â
â Ursula K. Le Guin
the worst part about grief is that it feels like the world should be horrendously earth shatteringly changed, and to an extent it IS but its also the same. to everyone else it's just another tuesday. the world moves on. you have to go grocery shopping.
Painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by William Carlos Williams
musĂŠe des beaux arts, w.h. auden

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âUgh canât stand babies they cry so much!â
That tiny Human spirit has shat himself 4 times today if youâd shat yourself 4 times by noon youâd be in hysterics too
He fell asleep in his bed, at home, and woke up at the goddamn grocery store with an overhead light in his face if that happened to you youâd become The Joker
Poor guyâs only been here for like a dozen weeks he doesnât even have a favorite show to distract him yet heâs just raw-dogging reality unfiltered with no goddamn Blorbos to rotate whatsoever
The following primarily speaks on racialization and misogyny, but Iâd like yâall to also consider it in the context of transmisogyny and how transmascs behave towards transfemmes. Itâs not a 1 to 1 transfer, but I believe it rings similarly to the issues.
âI have found that people who experience privilege in a given area yet disadvantage or disenfranchisement in another struggle deeply with empathyâthey do not know how to sit with the grief of their marginalization and the responsibility of their privilege. Privilege is not linear: we all have areas in which our social location allows us to wield power, whether inadvertently or intentionally, in ways that cause harm.
At the time of the Ferguson uprising, I observed a Black man tell a white woman that she would never understand what itâs like to fear leaving her home. He was so blinded by his own grief that he was unable to recognize that she, and every woman on this earth, knows what itâs like to fear leaving their home. To walk home at night. To wear certain outfits in public.
This manâs reaction caused me to wonder how he could possibly support Black women in our grief, regardless of how many Black women he had dated, loved, or marriedâor the ones who were his children or part of his familyâwhen he could not open his heart to witness the fullness of our experience.
Similarly, I find very little hope in âfeministâ spaces because they are often overrun by white women who believe that their experiences of womanhood are all-inclusive and whi donât see policing of Black womenâs bodies as issues affecting âwomanââ
âWe are trained to be wary of Black menâs grief and potential triggers as we walk the impossible path of managing our own safety in a community where men recklessly accept the privileges of masculinity to offset the burden of Blackness.
When we draw our boundaries within these dynamics, we are cast us unfair, une pathetic, and bitter. The same anger that is viewed as just when attached to the plight of Black men based on race is used to silence and delegitimize Black women because of our race and gender.
We are disparaged for being nothing more than âhurtâ women. The fact is that many of us are hurt, but those experiences give us authority in matters of intersectional justice and liberation, just as the pain caused by racism gives Black men a voice.â
-Grieving While Black by Breeshia Wade