It's my 13 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Sweet Seals For You, Always

pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
trying on a metaphor

PR's Tumblrdome
$LAYYYTER


⁂
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle

#extradirty
Mike Driver
Keni
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

★
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
DEAR READER

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@sanyukph
It's my 13 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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Well,1 um, There are few more important questions it would seem to me than than what we decide is alive, what we decide is dead. What power, state power, um, financial power, corporate power decides is alive, decides is dead. Really, so many consequences flow from where that that that border between life and not-life between animacy and matter: something like this is drawn It’s a constant shifting boundary, it’s a highly political, and, in many ways, a highly policed boundary. As First, How might natural scientists, humanists, and artists use field-based curiosities to work together across disciplinary divides to study the Anthropocene? Second, Can we find to tell terrible stories about the environment, yet stories that energize listeners rather making them feel overwhelmed and paralyzed? Third, Might digital media help us offer stories of emergent and open-ended political ecologies at varied incompatible scales? What we decide is life at various incompatible scales (divide between) animacy and matter (evidence of life) constant shifting boundaries2 the divide between animacy and matter terrible stories (energized) shifting boundaries (power) (paralyzed) highly policed (terrible stories) constant shifting boundaries. Well, um, There are few more important questions it would seem to me than than what we decide is alive, what we decide is dead. What power, state power, um, financial power, corporate power decides is alive, decides is dead. Really, so many consequences flow from where that that that border between life and not-life between animacy and matter: something like this is drawn It’s a constant shifting boundary, it’s a highly political, and, in many ways, a highly policed boundary. As First, How might natural scientists, humanists, and artists use field-based curiosities to work together across disciplinary divides to study the Anthropocene? Second, Can we find to tell terrible stories about the environment, yet stories that energize listeners rather making them feel overwhelmed and paralyzed? Third, Might digital media help us offer stories of emergent and open-ended political ecologies at varied incompatible scales? Political ecologies at various incompatible scales terrible stories3 (digital media) to study the anthropocene (field-based curiosity) political ecologies at various incompatible (incompatible) scales (power) (power) shifting boundaries between animacy and matter (digital media) what is alive and what is dead. that (that) (that) border few more important questions it would seem to me (first) digital media (shift) (shift) shifting boundaries, political ecologies, curiosities, to study the anthropocene political ecologies at various incompatible scale4 What is alive? What is dead?5 What is animacy? What is matter?
1
These are two of my favorite writers extending their lens of understanding to include non-human beings. Robert Macfarlane walks, climbs, dives, and swims through landscapes, while conversing with their many meanings. Anna Tsing expands ethnographic inquiry by engaging with non-human actors that shape interpersonal, cross-cultural, and interspecies relationships across time and space. I was fascinated by the questions these two writers posed in the above texts. I explored audio-visual materials of them engaging with their ideas, threading the needle of fair use by weaving the distilled essence of their inquiries into aliveness and intersubjective dialogue between human and non-human actors.
2
What I love about the relationship between these two texts is how one serves as a sort of answer to the other. Macfarlane’s wide-ranging journeys across the world in search of rivers acquiring political agency, radically transforming the human-mediated landscapes through determination to flow past the violence of human control and spiritual blindness, seem to suggest ways we can tell stories that catalyze the ability to cooperate with entities both human and non-human to preserve and bolster aliveness in the world. The shifting boundaries invite us to consider how static entities like legal doctrine have distinct limitations in animating our understanding of rivers.
3
How to tell terrible stories is, for me, the remaining question that lingers still in the air after the music decays into the background frequency of our daily lives. The drive to either flatten the difficulties of restoring our animate relationships with the world into simple platitudes or portray the damage we’ve done to our planet as irretrievably fucked powerfully shapes our vision and imagination. I don’t know how to answer this question, but I hope this can foster creative reframings that spark our collective dreaming.
4
In intersecting lines of the quotations, this last phrase, “Shifting boundaries, political ecologies, curiousities, to study the Anthropocene. Political ecologies at various incompatible scale” is my attempt to propose a method for figuring new senses of aliveness and relationality into being. When we cross disciplinary and geographic boundaries, think ecologically about politics growing out of its relationship to broader, seemingly incompatible scales, and any collection of meanings becomes fertile soil for possibilities. These possibilities depend on the medium in which they are growing. Even if we want living futures that break with the unsustainable meanings of the past, the growth medium out of which these stem is still these meanings, despite their limitations and pitfalls. This is what I find interesting about how collections of people who care for and depend upon rivers, and the non-human world more generally, use legal personhood as a springboard for creating new ways of understanding relationality.
5
One of the most compelling questions Macfarlane poses is “Can an entity murder a river?” If so, what does that mean for questions of legal culpability, for accountability overall? There are so many traditions for deliberating how to reshape relations after the rupture. How do these relate to legal frameworks? In Covered with Night: A Story of Murder and Indigenous Justice in Early America. I’ve encountered, in Nicole Eustace’s exhaustive analysis of colonial legal records, incredible ways in which justice and reparation are imagined and grounded in traditions of Indigenous American diplomacy among different social groups. They warrant more attention than a passing footnote can provide, but I hope they serve as invitations to examine these ideas in their broader contexts. Are there ways we can bridge the gap between differences? What are ways in your world where boundary blurring and scale shifting can incite your curiosity and imagination? Can they ground themselves in ways that create possibilities for relating?
References
Macfarlane, R., & Pandey, S. (2025, May 17). Rivers are living beings with rights.
Tsing, A. L. (n.d.). Anthropocene Lecture - Feral Atlas. IV. Anthropocene Formations.
Eustace, N. (2021). Covered with Night: A Story of Murder and Indigenous Justice in Early America. Liveright Publishing Corporation.
I never met a cat...
"I never met a cat that was too fat too look at a bird."I liked this metaphor. It's implication, though totally missed by the speaker, was clear to me. We are all a threat. I was raised on the motto, "Look don't touch." As if women were fragile pieces in an antique store. I remember the first time I felt the tension built into this voyeuristic philosophy. When I was teenager I was caught in a photograph clearly trying to look down a girls shirt. Seeing my face, her face, the whole scene, it was obvious that there was a real violation. But it washed right over me. I kept on going, looking, feeling slight pangs of remorse, up until this day.
She laid upon a bitter set of sun. We traced around her shadow’s edges lovingly. Tomorrow’s time to draw path to the riverside for making smoke. Cinders in the soil intertwine. They combine us with the stale smell of my grandmother’s house. In time, a child intently stares into the clouds and sees a dog.
Seed text: The World Doesn’t End Page #1
Tired and with an open wound and oof
Fragile and Distant Woodfire in the middle distance It doesn’t seem distinct noteworthy, even poetic But the fragility of the air there, briefly, turning the corner The sudden-ness in that little wood Virginia in the distance and its confusion and...
Sending love, humidity, and hundreds of little inchworms to my brother in the desert.

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CinchMark
Untitled
i‘m wilted summertime, Ohio.
Wring dry knotted sunshine sometimes
I think about lilting melodies on
ranch wind.
She skitters simmering, wind chimes.
Small cry slotted sing side I find
my small child supple riddling
mouth feel.
He has thankfully, soft ears.
Swing slide spotted appetite sometimes
I think about wounded recipes for
sand swill.
the gathering
gmckim:
I gathered all my teeth threw my teeth into a mirror of teeth firmament of dark sofas, Chicago I gathered all the mouths of your hammers, their vague unfamiliar. I exclaimed your sad trains lumbering through
a billion afternoons wandered onto the tracks gathering the footsteps of your face a chorus full of people occurred to me heavy in the tangled windows overhead, a black wreath of light
seed text – The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Window Pie
Slink towards the edge of the ledge,
wink at your comrade,
and take it.

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Musical Musing
Listening to Music for Eighteen Musicians, I try to imagine myself into the sonic space of the past. To be in a world unimpeded by the walls of sound that define our era. Where sounds were sparse, musical ones even sparser. To hear a song and be overwhelmed by joy in its unusual presence. The bard a true magician creating a new world that eclipses in the moment, leaving only the aural shadows to linger in your mind as you go about the rest of your day. The very notion that there would exist ambient music to sooth our psyches, reeling from the barrage of stimuli or afraid of the prospect of silence, is amazing.
Inevitability of Death and Other Songs
Added a second verse. Working on songifying. Inevitability of death and other songs. Desolation of the remote control breath. Simulation of our fear and to be long awaited circumstances simple clear. Swindle angles of our stress and pressing on. Weight for who you love and cite request. Inevitability of death and other songs. Turning sleight of hand on shallow kiss. Inevitability of death and other songs. Vacillate between this and the next. Relation wrapped in purple leaves of alms. Certain spectral patterns light appears. Sense receptors in our mouths filling with storm. Visceral experience of love. Inevitability of death and other songs. Symbol certitude in life erupt.
I keep the door open for God - by kermit mulkins
I keep the door open for God. He never comes but here’s his space.
I bought him a mug and a seat cushion. The kettle whistles and I take my tea to the table and I look at his chair.
I need quiet conversations so I say them myself. Imagining what He might say, I thank the space.
I’m bathed in shards of light, walking down the two-way street, keeping apace with my fellows, and saving room beside me.
I am tearful at the thought that this is me here.
Statistics
Statistical modeling the shape of my bones
break. Violent history of the brain’s collision
with interior skull skills and cycle swimming.
Source Material
Alone
among malignant thoughts
of friends lost,
bodies left wanting,
lies a wooden box
with silver lining.
Enough
to want reverberant
return soft,
simple touch yawning,
pries source material
without slip signing.

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Witness Sometimes the mountain is hidden from me in veils of cloud, sometimes I am hidden from the mountain in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue, when I forget to or refuse to go up the road, on a clear day, to reconfirm that witnessing presence.
Denise Levertov
What Would Silver Say
Winds of influence wring out silver
the basketball slipping slowing
winter the source material render
ribs in the spaces between ribs
my heart speed rows of wrinkled
sisters in their place east facing
walls let the light inside I am
the tree in this case it is hiding it.