✨ your red and golden friend ✨

a handprint made in concrete is just the image of a hand, it’s not the real thing. or, it’s the absence of a hand, more than anything, the negative space. the casing around where it should be. it’s an indent that was made from something real - that could not have existed without something real - but it’s not the real thing, it’s just trying to be. maybe it’s not even trying. you put your hand there with your mother and the concrete remembers, and the handprint doesn’t even know why it exists, it just does. if we can make copies and not-things from real things in the world, who’s the say the world couldn’t do that itself? does it even need to know why?

the problem is that a lot of people think that the evil of eugenics is "playing with forces of nature man was not meant to meddle with" and not the whole cohercion and killing and mutilation of people

can someone please please please please send me a grilled cheese in the maill I'm so hungry my address is 100 ocean

Fish don't you know better than to dox yourself on the Internet

Apt. C

i can’t stop thinking about the time my roommate and i asked our insanely ripped neighbor brian who wore flip flops year round and sunglasses on the back of his head for help with carrying a solid wood dresser up to our apartment. he wanted to get his son who was home from college to come help too so he takes out his phone and goes, “siri, call christian christianson” and turns speaker phone on while we stand there sort of stunned by the name and after a few rings cc answers, “what the hell do you want” and brian just hangs up without responding and is all, “kids, am i right” then carries the dresser up four flights of stairs pretty much by himself. we offered him a six pack of rainier as thanks which he immediately opened in our kitchen and downed 2/6 beers in 10 mins while telling us about his 1989 dodge ram 1500 he was trying to get his son to restore with him to no avail. really nice guy. we never saw his son before he went back to school but any time i ask my roommate for help with lifting stuff or reaching something he says, “siri, call christian christianson” and we reminisce about brian and his truck.

Why don’t we let the guy whose every plan could be reasonably construed as an abstract suicide attempt take a crack at it