50% sea, 50% weed, 100% knife

hey, do you mind if i immensly value our relationship, in a way i'll never properly be able to fully verbally communicate

hey, do you mind if i immensly value our relationship, in a way i'll never properly be able to fully verbally communicate

“Abusement park”? My friend we have a word for that it’s called “capitalism”

Damnn 💯

i am just moved by everything now. i'm porous and everything gets inside me

partner and I recently started a new nightly routine where we pretend to be space aliens trying to learn about/appreciate human culture by having a bowl of ice cream and watching any <15 minute video youtube recommends us of people demonstrating great skill and dedication to some form of art. so far I would say it's been very successful. we have gotten to watch world champion indigenous hoop dancing, a pianist playing beethoven for an elephant, an armored MMA longsword cage match, russian folk dancing, the opening stanzas of the epic of gilgamesh performed in sumerian, mongolian throat singing, and a dramatic re-enactment of the JFK assassination using my little pony figurines

Sorry we really went from free the nipple, take back the night, slut walks, and ending gender/sex segregation in sports being fucking milquetoast feminism 101 concepts to fucking girl dinner and "I just worry about fairness if we let trans girls play against cis ones" and "it was right of that woman to call the cops on a black man for existing near here in public during the day time because men are all violent monsters" and "radical feminism isn't transphobic we just need to kill all men including trans ones those oppressive traitors" and I will legit never be able to be normal about it. What the FUCK happened. I'd say I wonder what the feminists of my youth would say about this but I'm one and lemme tell ya I want to throw up. Go fucking read bell hooks or do something else useful please because all of this learned helplessness, gender essentialism, and transphobia dressed up as feminism is actively holding us back.

“Can you pay?” I asked. Of course she could. Her shoes were worth more than my rent. She could pay. “I can pay,” she said. Her eyes were wet. I wondered if anything else was wet. Probably not. I am not handsome. Not since the war. She was looking at my scar. Lots of people do. Most look away. Not her. She did not look away. She looked at my scar and I looked at her legs. There were two of them. I liked that about her. I liked that a whole lot. “Will there be danger?” I asked. There always is. This city bleeds danger, then drinks it right back up again.

im realizing very fast that people do not in fact know that sometimes things in stories suck on purpose and it sucking is the point

Calico out there putting tuxedo on the mats