the vitality of what will be

my seal drawing

I would put sea mines around medieval britain. i would give hannibal barca ww2 era heavy artillery and tell him not to stop till he starts seeing gauls. i would give boudica a fucking abrams. i would appear before jesus like an angel and tell him "you gotta stop. not cause theyll kill you, youre fine with that, surprisingly, but because your fanclub is gonna spend about 1500 years making everything worse for everyone, everywhere." I would take a glock back in time and shoot romulus, shoot remus, and shoot that damn dog too just to be safe. i would be on the side of christopher columbus' ship in a scuba suit planting c4 on that bitch like rainbow six siege. i would be waging a one woman campaign of terror across andalusia to prevent the reconquista. i would be getting way out in front of that shit is what im saying,

Do you understand how much poorer our whole species is because of it? Can you imagine where art, religion, and science would be if we still had these vast bodies of knowledge? The stain of the colonial project will never be fully washed clean. We owe more than just the land to those we stole from. We owe them a whole future, a future that could have been brighter for all of us. If only greed and fear weren't allowed to rule this land.

/End Text]

Happy antigone buried alive friday

there goes Antigone to be buried alive

I was a dog in my former life, a very good dog, and, thus, I was promoted to a human being. I liked being a dog. I worked for a poor farmer guarding and herding his sheep. Wolves and coyotes tried to get past me almost every night, and not once did I lose a sheep. The farmer rewarded me with good food, food from his table. He may have been poor, but he ate well. And his children played with me, when they weren't in school or working in the field. I had all the love any dog could hope for. When I got old, they got a new dog, and I trained him in the tricks of the trade. He quickly learned, and the farmer brought me into the house to live with them. I brought the farmer his slippers in the morning, as he was getting old, too. I was dying slowly, a little bit at a time. The farmer knew this and would bring the new dog in to visit me from time to time. The new dog would entertain me with his flips and flops and nuzzles. And then one morning I just didn't get up. They gave me a fine burial down by the stream under a shade tree. That was the end of my being a dog. Sometimes I miss it so I sit by the window and cry. I live in a high-rise that looks out at a bunch of other high-rises. At my job I work in a cubicle and barely speak to anyone all day. This is my reward for being a good dog. The human wolves don't even see me. They fear me not.]

Dean Young, “Solstice”

Maggie Smith, “Wild”

Prayer by Marie Howe

Abelardo Morell. Camera Obscura: View of Landscape Where Galileo Died in Exile, 2009.