#epochryphal

I feel like I would need more details on what “the state” encapsulates here, because it’s a word that for me is made up of postmodernist abstractions (hello Foucault). But assuming some kind of centralized government, I think it’s good for fostering autonomy. This idea that in an ideal world we would all rely on community and mutual aid makes me extremely nervous, because i suspect that would inevitably lead to more popularity contests, except this time what’s at stake is survival and having basic needs met. 

I do actually agree that fostering more community and interpersonal networks is good, and that loneliness and isolation are major problems in our society as it is. (This is actually why I’m not fond of takes like “maybe we’ll all be working from home in the future! there’s actually no need to have offices!” because hooo boy is your goal to just isolate people further and cut off any means of meeting and interacting with people, something that is already difficult as an adult? Not to mention that not everyone is, in fact, more productive at home... but we’re getting off topic.)

i think the twitter thread is attempting to address the (singular? primary?) stereotype-spectre of what a “tumblr ace” is, and it’s one that i’ve seen raised a lot (and do feel targeted by, as nonbinary, queer, interested in microlabels and unnatural hair colors, etc). i agree the thread inadvertently reinforced the idea that that is indeed the only/main type of ace on tumblr by focusing on the respectability politics of dismissing that stereotype

As a general rule of thumb, privilege is so conditional that moving away from visible normalcy strips you of it. You might still have some of the internalized beliefs that privilege granted you, but I struggle to see how someone looking at you, seeing your body disagrees with their idea of the sex binary, and then making your life more difficult (whether actively or passively) could ever constitute being seen or treated as “normal” by an oppressive structure.

I can’t decide these things for you, only you can. But it sounds to me like the past tense is much more accurate here.

And, this kind of circumstance is exactly why terms like parasex (anyone who is intersex or has otherwise become alienated from perisex privilege) were created.

Life isn’t binary. Being perisex privilege isn’t binary either.

I wish I had a more eloquent response for you, but–and I cannot emphasize this enough–I’m really on the fence about the entire concept of “perisex privilege” being applied to trans people at all.

I’m not sure it works that way. Very few people actually think of trans bodies as having “normal” sex characteristics. It’s literally the reason why trans people, trans women and transfems in particular, but all trans people to a degree, have such a high risk of murder/violence from their sexual partners compared to cis people.

I’m trying to pin down my exact feelings on the matter, and explain them coherently, and that essay is drafted, but man. Man I am treading into some dangerous territory by making claims such as, “intersex and trans people were historically considered members of the same social group with unique sub-identities (fucked up over gender roles), similarly to how gay, bi and ace people are considered members of the same social group with unique sub-identities (fucked up over relationship standards). Maybe that was a good thing, actually, and we should re-acknowledge the amount of intense overlap happening here?”

look. look! there are a lot of dangerous bell situations you can get into! even the smallest church bells are still several hundredweight, so that’s several hundred pounds of metal you’re trying to control.

like, okay, batbetbitbotbut mentioned the issue with full vertical ringing is that you don’t want to break the stay, which is the bit of wood that prevents the bell from just going round and round and round and round and ROUND AND ROUND until it has exhausted all its kinetic energy. you go round one rotation, stop the bell just before it reaches the stay, rotate back the other way, stop the bell, etc etc etc. it works well. you don’t die. you control the bell.

but the stay is just a piece of wood up in a church tower; eventually, even if you’re a perfect ringer and never ever tap the stay when you’re ringing (that’s why you stop just before you reach the stay, so you’re not wearing the wood out faster), it will break. when that happens, the first thing you learn when you’re ringing is that you let go. you let go of the damn rope, you let it go up into the ceiling, you look ashamed and awkward while everyone else stops ringing and figures out what to do. otherwise, that rope is climbing towards the ceiling with all the stored energy of a several-hundred-pound bell and it will take it with you.

this is why, by the way, your belfry ceiling should be low. I learned at my grandmother’s church - and I should say, I was never more than a learner; I didn’t visit my grandmother often enough to get good, and I could only ring occasionally at my own church because I would’ve needed to be in the belfry ringing at the same time as I was getting robed up for the choir - but at her church, the belfry ceiling was maybe seven feet at most. it was a small room, and the holes which the rope disappeared through were sometimes unsettlingly near, but when someone broke a stay, or had any other misfortune, at worst they would have been dragged up a couple of feet and slammed into the ceiling. you should still let go, but that’s a good precaution.

now, at my church, the belfry ceiling was far distant. I think it was actually the floor of the room that the bells were housed in, and it was, god, it was so high that I cannot even estimate it. look at a church tower. divide it in half. yeah, maybe that high.

so, obviously trying to perfectly control the ropes up that height was a problem, so they’d put in a sort of metal framework; little circles where the ropes should go through, and a few struts connecting each circle.

first off, obviously, if you break a stay and don’t let go, you’re in trouble. at the very best, you’re hitting the metal frame ten, twenty feet above you. if you don’t manage to stop then... well. up the tower you go. it wasn’t safe. I didn’t like it.

the other thing about this setup was that, as I was always a learner, I was often having some amount of trouble controlling the bell. as I’ve said a lot, it’s several hundred pounds of bell, and the ringing system is set up so that you personally are not moving all several hundred pounds, because we’re not weightlifters. what this does mean is that you have to be really in tune with everything else in the mechanism, or you’ll lose control of the bell as it starts swinging to its own tune.

now, that’s possible in all places. I’ve lost control at my grandmother’s church enough! but there, well, the rope is going through a small hole in the ceiling seven feet up, and then it’s going through more rooms and more small holes and... you get the idea. even if you fuck up - and you can and will - it’s a lot easier to recover there.

Salutes. right how much conscious effort is necessary to properly Distance from christian culture. also hey is pillowfort any good, i live in fear of the “no suggestive drawings appearing under 18” rule and also on my phone’s apps

yeah idk. i lean towards seeing use in the term “cultural Christianity” in the sense that US culture is, y’know, super influenced by ideas in Christian theology in ways that go beyond “do you believe in Jesus y/n, do you celebrate Christmas y/n” -- but i get that’s gonna be a hella fraught thing for survivors of religious abuse, and it sucks if it gets used to say basically “you can’t/shouldn’t disidentify with this thing that hurt you”. 

i think there’s a matter of here of, like, how much you want to attribute “<feature of mainstream American culture>” to being a Cultural Thing vs. to being a certain type of religious thinking, and if it is a Cultural Thing, do you want to still call it “Christian in the sense that mainstream American culture is Christian” when that still may be covering... very non-Christian people. (and then the issue of calling it “Christian culture” when there are a looot of approaches there, usually people mean a kind of white Protestantism; “Christian” as shorthand for a lot of things, really). where are the boundaries of “religion”, is i think the question, which lmao don’t ask me -- that’s never been an object in my life. :V

of course i spend half my time reading people like Foucault, whose whole thing was “psychiatry is from the ground up super influenced by Christian ideas about sin, authority, mind/body dualism, therapy-as-confession etc.” so like... those connections to theology can run deep, theoretically, but i wouldn’t call anyone who uses psychiatric models adopting some aspect of Christianity. i get more :/ at the specific idea -- or at least how it feels from the outside -- that people who have converted to another religion are more exempt from interrogating that stuff, because they’ve adopted things that can “fill in that blank”, while ex-Christian atheists are easy enough to generalize as Christian-Lite.

anyway

i generally like pillowfort. largely, it’s interesting having some connection back to discussions on asexuality and aromanticism after, y’know, tumblr. also, privacy features?? it’s slow though, which means we don’t spend that much time on it, which means there’s even less activity. :V but hey, i think their invite system is now causing more activity again.

i know there was that whole issue, and the kinda-retroactive banning, but i wouldn’t really be the person to ask how it’s affecting things -- i at least haven’t heard of any further Issues like that. though the mobile website kinda sucks, if that’s an issue lmao

(lmao it’s only been weeks since I’ve had these prompts inmy inbox)

(but now I’m kinda glad it’s taken me forever because nowI’ve been inspired to write JASPER ANGST :D)

(inspired by/spoilers for A Single Pale Rose, so.)

She floated, bodiless again after a brief moment of freedom,in a soft pink haze.

The place, if you could call it that, was the same prisonshe’d been enveloped by once already until – barely moments ago, moments packedtogether in a flurry of action until they seemed too full for their true span.The only difference now (everything was different) was the renewedclarity of her mind. Sharp, lucid, lucent, all the facets connecting now asthey should, perfect as the day she’d emerged, no longer cracked and warpedlike her sister –

– no. She had never been perfect, no matter what they allmight have thought; this entire planet and anything that came from it wasstained by some vein of imperfection. Not simply the ignominy of politics andfailed conquest, she knew now, but something worse; a flaw in the entireAuthority, spreading from its weakest link through all she touched.

Corruption was a power of the Diamonds, after all.

Jasper was not conscious of time passing, here contained injust her gem, but her rage didn’t need time for her to be aware of it. A fury,hatred, disgust, suffusing every bond that made her, trying to claw its way outof her confining bubble to explode in a shower of violence. She wanted to scream.

And she had no form here, but a wild, shattering soundripped forth from her throat nonetheless. She curled down into herself, wishingshe could stop it, wishing that – that human mockery – had neverreturned her mind.

A weight, a presence seemed to settle down on her shouldersas she thought of it, and Jasper raised her head to look – a figure hadshimmered into the light. To think of her was to summon her, here.

Truth grabbed hold of her reflexes, and Jasper did what shewould never have in life.

The salute she crossed her arms into, the submission,prostrating herself, filled a hole and completed her in a way she couldn’t evenremember. So different from the substitute she’d served almost all her life(which was satisfactory, but never enough) – this was the one she’d beenmade for. The one she’d barely known. Something like love welled inJasper’s chest, and if only she didn’t look up, it wouldn’t be ruined–

She didn’t have the strength in her.

And though she could feel the strength, the mantle of herDiamond all around her – all she could see was the form of Rose Quartz.

“Do you understand now why you were wrong?” Rose asked. Shespoke with the same voice, the same, look, that she reserved for all the gemsshe had recruited to her cause. All her weak gems.

They had always been enemies, and Rose had never looked ather like that.

(They had never been enemies, and her Diamond hadnever looked at her at all.)

“All I ever did was to serve you,” Jasper said, almostfrantic, unable to stop the cracks in her voice any more than she could stopthe tears blurring her eyes. And she knew it was a lie. “My Diamond…”

How could you??she wanted to scream, how could you use us like this, all of us made foryou, who would have done anything for you – how could you demand the one thingwe couldn’t do –

Because she was every bit a failure as the Crystal Gems. Sherejected the authority of her Diamond. (Her Diamond was corrupt, and so suchwas everything that came from her – and only a corrupt gem could say as much,couldn’t she!)

Rose Quartz simply looked down at her, still with that lookof pity, and shook her head. “I’m not your Diamond any more, Jasper. And maybeI never was. My sisters made you to fight for Pink, but at that point, maybePink was as much a lie as Rose was.”

She knelt, until her gaze was level with Jasper’s; shereached out with both hands to cradle her face. Jasper flinched back,shuddering with a sickness at the perverseness of such false equality. Jasperought to wrench herself away, knock her head back and shove her away. She oughtto do none of those things; she could never harm a Diamond. She couldn’t move.

“But don’t you see?” the form of Rose continued. “That’s thepoint. We don’t have to be what anyone else made us. And I will love usall, just the same. For being what we want to be.”

The fire of Jasper’s rage reignited as she heard thosewords, and instinct allowed her to do what her conscious mind couldn’t condone.Rose cried out as Jasper smashed into her head, flailing to catch her balance asshe stood, putting backwards distance between the pair of them.

“What I want to be is your Jasper! My Diamond’sperfect Quartz soldier! And that’s the one thing you – couldn’t – let– me – be!”

Her chest heaved with the force of her screams, the gasping breathsshe tried to hold in; and the image of Rose Quartz, knocked back to the floor,flickered and glowed as it re-formed, standing, wearing a haughty, imperiousglare, as Pink Diamond.

Pink Diamond looked down at Jasper like she were worthlessand disgusting as the lowest organic creature, filth and structureless dirt.“Of course not,” she sneered, and oh, this was worse, worse than pity, thefarthest estimation possible from the respect she’d been granted by thefalseness that was Rose Quartz. Jasper could feel herself growing smaller,growing misshapen, by the moment. Under such awful pressure.

“How could I ever want your service? A gem too broken toeven realise her nature, to think she could stand amongst the legions ofHomeworld like an equal? To be better than them? You’re a monster. Andnobody could ever want a monster like that. No Diamond could ever lovethat.”

The tiny, shrunken remains of Jasper’s form quivered, andcracked - and the vision broke apart. Jasper winked out of existence. HerDiamond shattered, and even the splinters faded.

The hazy, pink world was formless once again.

really impressive how op never uses the word bi in the post or tags while listing bi/queer/pan/etc artists but specifying wlw and lesbian and also implying the creator of ‘girls’ is straight (she’s bi and has been harassed over this backlash). and by impressive i mean transparently biphobic

Happy Chinhands At. what’s the inclusion-or-not of the whalestoe letters mean. what counts as evidence and believable and what is *presented* as evidence and relevant

Was waiting on you. ;P

Guess how I’m thinking it, in this analysis/headcanon (same thing), Johnny did indeed have a traumatising childhood, fill in whatever details you want there cuz god knows that on its own is somewhat unclear.

I guess I’m identifying more with Johnny’s (reported) experiences of dealing with reality-fiction, inventing-remembering, erasing-not existing (that accidentally destroyed geology chapter, which doesn’t exist and doesn’t matter, vs. attempting to destroy the Minotaur, which does matter) specifically around the reality of the Navidson Record.

I’m kinda flipping through the book now to try to get some examples, but man if I don’t feel the “what’s the difference” (and, yes, fine, differance SIGH) quote. Which I found because I was looking for the purple line (”I’m sorry, I have nothing left. Except this story, what I’m remembering now, too long from the surface of any dawn, the one Doc told me when I was up in Seattle,” y’know, the Doc he just pages before said was made up). Stories, or something.

Feelings of reality falling apart and a beast at his neck as both maybe about his childhood, but also definitely about something else.

idk, probably would have to reread it properly with this in mind to come up with anything, or to realise it’s a dumb idea and I’m just drawing connections based off of the colour red  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯