Mathysphere

Four crows trying to steal a fish from an eagle (I didn't see how this ended because Team Crow managed to force the eagle down below the canopy and out of sight. But let's be real. Once the crows have done that to you, the crows have won. And I hope they enjoyed their breakfast)

SINGLE crow trying to steal an unseen treasure from an eagle (this one looked like a toss-up?)

saw a red-winged blackbird solo a bald eagle today. smart money is always on the guy with epaulets

my first year of high school i was in this intensive outpatient exposure therapy program which i attended for the first half of every other weekday, or something. it was in this out-of-the-way room in some sort of hospital; the memories flicker a bit because i've been in a lot of rooms with buzzy fluorescent lights and adults who talk to me like a dog, so they sort of blur together. there are a few things that distinguish my time in iop, though, and one of those is the little boy on the other side of the room, with a different small group of kids and therapists, who screamed endlessly. he couldn't have been much older than eleven. he would come in every day a bit after me and start screaming and i would put my head down on the table between my arms, trying to cover my ears. i never heard him say a word. there was a tiny empty room they sent him to, but it wasn't actually soundproof, just a little further away, so everything we did at the program was accompanied by the background score of a little boy screaming in another room. at the time i found it only a bit more annoying than the slight buzzing of the fluorescent lights, because none of the adults gave any indication that something was wrong here, and all of us kids were crazy anyway. i graduated the summer before my sophomore year, and he was still there when i left. i don't remember his name or what he looked like, and it's not like i could reach back and save him if i did.

i keep wanting to reframe this act as some kind of tiny liberation, but that's a lie, and not a permissible lie like the lies that slip into everything i write from memory no matter how objective i pretend to be. it's the worst kind of lie! it's theft! i spent some time in that room, too, when i became too unwieldy, but i can't cut and fold my memory over him and place the screams in my throat. i can't know why he screamed. i know that i could have, and i think that i probably should have, and i know that i didn't. i spent the first part of my childhood screaming, and then i spent a lot of time in rooms with buzzy fluorescent lights and adults who talked to me like a dog, and i became the only person i can tell this story as: the girl on the other side of the room who listened to him scream and didn't wonder about it at all.

cannibal chappell roan: you can put a hundred boys in jars

vehicular manslaughter chappell roan: you can hit a hundred boys with cars

medieval torturer chappell roan: you can coat a hundred boys in tar

due to popular demand you can now stream the Slur Song for free without Spotify, using my new streaming service slurify.co

for as long as I've been making patterns, I always put in a 'what you can do/what you can't do with this pattern' section in the PDFs, but over the years I just keep shrinking the 'what you can't do' section and now I kinda think I just want to take it out entirely

found out a couple months back that someone had uploaded a couple of my patterns to a piracy forum, and straight up? it kinda ruled. like if etsy nukes my account or I get hit by a bus tomorrow people will still be able to get copies of the Geology Rock Collection. that's rad as hell

oh, of course. because he died for our sins.

just updated it again in our beautiful 2026 👍