Who breaks the oath of hers will have their hearts broken by her.

She who, goddess of the wild.

Goddess of Childbirth.

She will be there to lift your sorrows and be the sun to your sky, as well as the terrible storm in your sky.

She will be the star that guides you out of your sorrowful tearful seas.

She lifts her arrow, all plants perk up.

Mess with anyone but her,

For she is the Goddess of the wild;

Beautiful moonstruck pale skin

Beautiful flowing hair just like the night skies

Beautiful deer antlers decorated with beauty of the stars, gifted from the moon and night.

Her gentle hands pull her arrow before her hands turn rough.

I lift my hands in prayer to you Lady Artemis

Forgive me for what i have ever done wrong to you.

For you are above all hunters

Beautiful Goddess Artemis

I praise you, i admire you and i love you.

oh god. fuck. I- fuck. I just. jfc.

These people who were all 50+ were trying to keep up with the times, but their bodies visibly tensed when we started using the word "queer." They started whispering to each other, becoming less engaged. I remember one flamboyant guy started rolling his eyes and lightly heckling. At the end we took questions, and they started telling me and my millennial mentor about the word queer.

Most of them had been called it derogatorily, like a slur. Many of them were called that while being beaten–that was a story that many of the gay men spoke up about. An elderly lesbian for angry at the presentation and told us that she would never be queer because she's not unusual. One gay man had a homophobic bully that terrorized him as a boy, called him a queer and they got in a fight. The gay man grabbed a brick and hit the guy's head–he ended up dying and the gay man was convicted of manslaughter. He was crying while he admitted all this, telling me that that's how serious the word "queer" is to the older generations. I think it's one of the largest reasons why we are disconnected from our elders.

"male martyrs are almost always surrounded by nurses, their mothers, adoring angels and other loving disciples wrapping their crushed and holy bodies in strips of herb soaked cloth and weeping rapturously. female martyrs are almost always depicted having their skin flayed, breasts branded or ripped off with tongs or being stabbed and they are always, always alone save for her murderers. there is never anyone by their sides celebrating their spiritual life, only fiendishly reveling in their torture of her. it is perilous to be a "girl.""

How long does a machine last? A car is a very solid machine, expensive, precision designed, and you're lucky if you get more than three decades out of them.

Your enemy is not the flesh. It's entropy. It's the death knell of the energy imbalance. If you want to live as a complex machine you will, by necessity, generate a great deal of entropy until your machine breaks irrevocably.