Im tired of not speaking my truth to stay uncouth. We simply must torture The Character in perverse and cruel ways for my enjoyment and pleasure. Guards begin

theres a different version of you in everyone else’s head and thats fucked up

The best thing about this is how much love for Rothko there is in it. Like... here. Here is a rectangle, and if you stand far away it's just two or three colors a bit streaky, and the closer you get the more it opens up until it swallows you whole with the idea of how vast it is, how much bigger than you. If someone framed the real-life sea and sky and told everybody that's what my artwork was like to them I'd kiss them

[image description]: screenshot of text, some of which is highlighted. it begins, highlighted: In death, the female loses the quality of being Other, and becomes an inanimate object that no longer threatens male order. Her body, once 'a site of superlative alterity,' can now be controlled, composed, and dissected. [end highlight] In this state, the woman can be idealized. These ideas can be placed within the nineteenth century patriarchal cult of invalidism that Dijkstra has described. This cult glorified female suffering, illness, and consequently, their deaths. Women who could be defined as either faint, frail or fading away, were set as icons of virtuous femininity. The 'consumptive' look consequently became an ideal of feminine beauty, which prescribed a pale, almost translucent skin, feverish eyes, and an emaciated body. This sort of idealization went hand in hand with an [highlighting begins again] eroticization of the dead female, the ultimate object of male fantasy. [end highlight, end description].

Wow, maybe there's something to that old stereotype about *everyone* in the USSR playing chess for fun...

this is (trans) positivity!