-_-

apartment. i’m at my apartment

🩶

step three: marry a girl with generational wealth

You like warm blankets. You like the sound of birdsong. You have a pet that needs taking care of. You have someone to outlive. You have a loved one. You think death would be boring. It's coming for you anyway. Death is patient. When was the last time you had cake? Your favourite musician is going on tour. Or maybe just a halfway decent band at your local bar. You've never seen an elephant. Isn't it amazing that the sky is blue? Aging is a gift not afforded to most. Don't let the bastard grind you down. You can't mend any suffering in the world with your death. You want to see if you can grow herbs on your windowsill. Killing yourself seems like so much effort. What does tiramisu taste like? You're trying to be curious. You're angry and spiteful. What you want more than to die is to rest. This sandwich is so good you don't want to die. Not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody, anybody who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. A stranger on the internet is holding their hand out and asking.

― Marjane Satrapi, Iranian graphic novelist

James Baldwin, Nothing Personal

[ID: “Trached dykes eat pussy without coming up for air.” Connie Panzarino, a longtime disability activist and out lesbian, would attach this sign to her wheelchair during Pride marches in Boston in the early 1990s. Shockingly explicit, her sign refuses to cast technology as cold, distancing, or disembodied/disembodying, presenting it instead as a source and site of embodied pleasure. “Trach” is an abbreviation of tracheotomy, a medical procedure in which a breathing tube is inserted directly into the trachea, bypassing the mouth and nose. Someone with a trach, then, can, in effect, breathe through her throat, freeing her mouth for other activities (another version of this sign is “Trached dykes french kiss without coming up for air”). From a cyborgian perspective, this sign is brilliantly provocative and productive. It draws on the pervasive idea that adaptive technologies grant superior abilities,not merely replacing a lost capacity but enhancing it, yet it does so in a highly subversive way. The message here isn’t about blending in, about passing as normal or hypernormal, but about publicly announcing the viability of a queer disabled location. It’s disnormalizing, adamantly refusing compulsory heterosexuality, compulsory able bodiedness, and homonormativity. As Corbett O’Toole argues, it challenges the perceived passivity of disabled women, presenting them as actively pleasuring their partners, thereby graphically refuting stereotypes linking physical disability with nonsexuality.]