Copic-Addicted Renegade

ocarina of time: adulthood

Illustration by Sophie Lucido Johnson

Good, I hope it haunts everyone about to enter a body of water so bad that they wear a life jacket. 🙌

Every single person I knew (past tense) who has drowned was "a strong swimmer." Water in the wild does not care how good you are at swimming.

You may be unable to return to shore. Rescue may be unable to find you quickly.

whether or not you agree with his conclusions about identity construction is up to you, but you have to actually back that up with an argument about theory instead of just making shit up to poison the well. (considering he's a brown man talking about the disparities in trans experience created by white privilege, this reeks of coming up with any reason you can to smear an uppity academic of color l o l)

The bubble is nigh.

The weather forecast says a heat wave is coming. It’s never been this hot before, you feel like taking off your entire skin. The Thermostat says it’s 23 °C. The basic rules of modesty do not apply anymore. You get as naked as you can possibly afford at all times. Can you wear a bikini top and boxer shorts to university? Your professor does. Flip Flop. Flip Flop. Flip Flop. You turn around to see if someone is following you. No one in sight. You walk a little faster. Flip Flop. Flip Flop. They’re almost here. You sit next to a stranger on the bus. Your thighs are touching. When you try to get up for your stop, you cannot move. The stranger is staring out of the window, but you can’t see their face in the reflection. Your upper legs have fused together and it will only be a matter of time before one of you consumes the other. It’s 36° and it’s getting heißer. Life doesn’t feel hard at all. It’s getting heißer and heißer. You try to turn off the radio, but as soon as you turn your back to it, it’s 36° again and it’s getting heißer. The Klimaanlage in the Deutsche Bahn is broken. It’s always been broken. You’ve heard people say there is a single car where it works, but it’s never the one you’re in. The doors of the Tram open and 50 hungry lungs breathe in in unison. You don’t hear anything but the rattling over the Weichen until the next stop. You didn’t know you could hold your breath this long. You come home to find all of your shoes have been replaced with Flip Flops. Even the Sandalen you put on your own feet this morning have transformed while you were out, it seems. Or did you put them on? You can’t remember. There’s no answers. You wake up to the sun shining in your face. It’s 4 am and your window is on the north side of the house. Mom asks you to mäh the Rasen. You are sure you did it yesterday, but you also feel your nostrils longing for the smell of frischgeschnittnem Gras. How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything? The Flutschfinger at the Kiosk is 4,50€ now.

I have come to know now that this western voraciousness for our stories was never an impulse born out of empathy; it has always been little more than a gathering of intel, of reasons to hate us and to justify the destruction of our bodies and the pillaging of our lands and the looting of our resources. So I no longer see the utility in being one more primary source for the proverbial NYT opinion editorial manufacturing consent for the latest campaign of imperial slaughter in my backyard on account of our inherent backwardness.

— I Know What You Think of Me, Tim Kreider for the New York Times

“Anyone worth knowing is inevitably also going to be exasperating”

The why bother with a cookbook - to make beans on toast, gently heat a tin of beans and put on top of freshly buttered toast.

Amen to this @akasanata. "Now make your puff pastry from scratch". How about no❤️

That said, it does not, and this compels me.