Yall fuck with Ramlethal Valentine?
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@m1ntjulip
Yall fuck with Ramlethal Valentine?

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Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.
huh.
saw this follow-up
feeling like I am perhaps downwind from an argument my brother in law is having with his fiancée about wedding planning
An abandoned theater in Rochester, New York. Formerly a pornographic theater, then just a facade after the Walgreens next door gutted it to use as a warehouse. The Walgreens with it's shampoo and baby formula and half of the store locked in cages; the contradictions stare into you. You go because it is the nearest pharmacy, close in walking distance for you and your disabled loved ones.
The Walgreens shuts down and it too, is now just a vacant facade, next to a vacant facade. You stare into the large windows meant to advertise it's contents, now only showcasing absence. A wide open space with torn up floors. You think about how perfect the location could be for low income housing, for squatting, for anything other than standing as a constant reminder of the city's failures to her people. The parking lot is empty, save for the occasional cop car, to ensure no one uses the lot or the building for anything at all. The cop ensures the space will stay as useless as himself.
They add letters to the theater's marquee; a reminder and encouragement of surveillance. "If you see something, say something. In progress call 911, over and done call 311." They board up the doors, ensuring that the space will stay in it's intended form: empty, useless, an eyesore that reminds everyone of their place. The freshly boarded up door has been emblazoned with a message from those who lack.
"A man would shelter, if he could / in the nook behind this new plywood / the building, abandoned / the man is too / how I wish you'd imagine / that it were you."
Pictured above is Rain, an artwork by Thurlow Small Architecture, hung from the M Street NE underpass in the NoMa neighborhood of Washington, DC. It’s one of three artworks in a series commissioned by the neighborhood to beautify the area.
And by beautify, I mean drive out the unsightly homeless.
Local law states that the homeless cannot encamp on, in, or under public art, so the NoMa Parks Foundation identified three underpasses uniquely situated out of the elements and targeted them for their installations. Now of course, it doesn’t completely deter souls seeking shelter, but it does empower law enforcement to harass them and drive them into more hidden, less comfortable crevices of the city. Out of sight and out of mind.
There is a cold, cruel beauty in the piece. It’s almost self-conscious in a way. Art weaponized against the viewer, designed to resemble the very element they are trying to escape. Rain.

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The more I get back into doing creative stuff the more I understand that one Fujimoto quote
for anyone wondering about the second quote:
I've procured a fertility statue for Monday's group think session
following weird horny furries who are into shit like pooltoys and transformation and stuff is enrichment. the vitamins and minerals of posting
once you get over your ass and realise you will never get some people and that’s ok you are basically immune to right wing fearmongering. otherkin? none of my fucking business
I must not fall victim to disgust. Disgust is the heart-killer. Disgust is the little-death that brings total apathy. I will face my disgust. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the disgust has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
maybe don't post every thought you have
suck me from behind or dont. sorry
oh my god

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dude, this is really scary, and liminal as well. It's like the bathrooms
how it feels to get home and jerk off
my family fucked up my life by using spoonerisms interchangeably with their true phrase counterparts since before i was born and now i can’t escape from instinctively saying shit like “im gonna shake a tower”
oh “meeking a smee” made me feel like i was being fucking tazed
theres a lot of people on this website who dont realize their dad is a gnome
I really like it when horses look like this

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guy who lives with me
yeah
you have a problem with my rabbit's large, veiny, fleshy ear, tumblr??
Those are the worst photos of a rabbit ever taken. I'm in love with your weird dog and his emotional support dust pile
girlfriend keeps a kyubey plushie just to beat up when she's angry so sometimes i'm running down the list of questions to ask to help her figure out what would make her feel better and "do you want to hurt kyubey" is often one of them