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🧿🏺

@startedraining / startedraining.tumblr.com

the comforting touch of le monké • a guy in the shape of a man and the body of a man also

they’re opening a whale museum in norway next year that looks like a whale

who wants to go to norway with me in june 2027

looked into it more as i’m serious about wanting to go; learnings, questions, and marketing critique follow

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pjackk

The gays in the local scene always call me mr.new york city because i would always come into the bar with a pizza slice in 1 hand an a coney island style hotdog in my other 1 hand & i would squeeze my arms together to hold a largw cocola & hopefully not spill it (yes i used a long straw to drink it..) usually i would go home right when i finish my snack but 1 time i let a drunk twunk bust on me in the bathroom cuz i liked his devil may care attitude.Hes long dead now & i miss him honestly i just wish i learnt his name so i could have 1 last hot dog in his honor before they run out and shit since they going to be replacing them with BugDogs made out of crickets & roaches smashed into a puddy since that seems to be the way sjws are taking this fcking crazy planet,making us eat dogs made of bugs for no reason other then made up bull shit to make us live in fear? Of what?

i think people are starting to confuse class analysis with bioessentialism. like... no not all men do this, but Men as a constructed social class do do this. that's still okay to say. that is regular material analysis of the world around us.

this is true, but it is not bioessentialist. both cis & trans men WILL see a mouse & eat it. this is because it is in their best interest to eat mice. they benefit from eating mice. this is essential to their class position, not their biological makeup.

the late senator graham and i disagreed on pretty much everything, but credit where it’s due. this quote of his is an all-timer:

it’s arguably the most honest thing that anyone has said in politics.

More and more, I believe that to be a great writer and produce a great work, you have to get over whatever wound you nurse that makes you chase your own tail in a cage ad infinitum

Was hesitant because this can apply to marginalized creators, but everyone does it. Everyone. Fiction can be your outlet to ice that horrible bruise on your spirit, and the question then becomes "now what?" Without deconstruction and an expansion of your worldview, your work won't go anywhere. There won't be actual art. It's like playing Welcome to the Black Parade and just starting the song over from the beginning the moment you hear "When I was—"

Like if you're someone who has had little agency in your life, and you want to write a great work about someone like you, you're going to have to envision what it looks like to have some agency, or you're just making a slideshow of "things happen to this person." Even sex becomes incidental and full of plausible deniability. Choices are made for your proxy-protagonist that they conveniently agree with so they get what they want without having to speak and be perceived. Choices drive a narrative, and we wait for the engine to light until we read the last line.

If the world has tried to erase you, you'll find comfort in the zoomed-in shot of your doppelgänger in high exposure, low contrast where there are no shadows. Look at your pain. Look at your scars. Look at your most honest form. This proxy for you sleeps in a cradle of your making as a monument to your struggle, stripped of a richer inner world or a life beyond their nursery so you can remember over and over, "I'm allowed to be. I am here and I am seen." That's painful and beautiful. That is not a story.

Your wound cannot be the totality of you. A wound is where you are missing something; if all of you is missing, you are nothing. If you want to make something great, there must be something beyond the wound. You must be in touch with your humanity outside that cage, even if it means the food on your plate is touching and you might have something in common with someone else.