☤

It took a lot for me to mature enough to accept a lot of the time you just don’t get closure like ill never understand why certain things happened or ever receive an apology or talk to certain people again or know the answers to questions I can’t ask and people die or leave or drift away sometimes and there’s no answer. and this is actually starting to sound like some doomer shit but im not joking when i say it actually became way easier to move on with my life when I accepted sometimes things will just be left wrong and can’t be made right and there’s no point in wasting any more of my time on it

Excerpts from “Transgendered Archaeology: The Galli and the Catterick Transvestite”, Renato Pinto and Luciano C. G. Pinto in TRAC 2012. (read here)

We 100% ought to be armed, but I'm really concerned about aspects of the broader trans/lefty gun culture that's sprung up. My general experience with it is that a lot of people think having a gun is a superpower that makes the indestructible and often people neglect to learn important skills surrounding shooting, like deescalation or even just carrying and practicing with non-lethal options. Very quickly people get sucked into the Gun Badass fantasy and begin posturing as some kind of commando, often because there are social rewards to doing so among people who are themselves not armed and informed.

What I keep thinking of is that thing from the other day where somebody drew a gun on a transphobic street preacher and shoved it in his face. A bunch of comments were like 'I don't want to hear any one say anything bad about this, they need to learn a lesson'. So there are a lot of people going out, buying a gun, not understanding even the tactical considerations of how brandishing a gun and not using it will 1) give up any element of surprise which is your strongest asset and 2) immediately make you into a target for anyone around you to shoot, otherwise assault, rob, or even just identify.

There's a lot of people who don't know what the hell they're talking about, being led by other people who don't know what the hell they're talking about, discounting a lot of extant information out there, and just acting on bad ideas. Everyone needs a quip, everyone needs a slogan, everyone needs some icon to present themself as a revolutionary hero for owning a gun and knowing how to operate it. And so many people fall for it, so many people reward that kind of behavior.

I also think of that woman whose photos have gone around recently, carrying the AK wearing a red beret and a remarkably wack plate carrier. She's been suggested to me as a friend on facebook by its algorithm. Her public account is plastered with photos of her at actions wearing her little hero costume, with the names of professional photographers who have taken cool pictures of her at actions, excerpts from articles she's been quoted in, names and photos of people she organizes with, her partners even. Basking in the glory of all these aesthetic signifiers suggesting she's some revolutionary hero, and just as many shibboleths to suggest she isn't.

Do not take yourself too seriously because you are an American with a gun. Gunfights always, 100% of the time, suck shit, and aren't cool, and you will never have a good time shot at. It should always be avoided if it can. It is unbelievably easy to get killed. Even if your splits are a consistent .12, even if you can drill dimes at 100 yards. The way you win a gunfight is by not being in one. Not puffing up your chest bigger than the other guy.

-Ophanim-

To be riso printed

Weeping as the face falls out of me. Pain causes displacement of sensations of physical presence. Personality attenuates under pressure. My accent came back which is to say that the easiest way to slip into the mirror is to slip out of yourself. Tap, Rack, Bang!

This i what i mean more often than not that totality conceptualy relies on that distinction of whole and the hole, of organ and organism. Every excision is also escape; every flight is fight and every fight a flight.

So when you begrudge another her concession, it is to look yourself bare in the mirror, point the weapon at the hole, and say "Mine's Bigger."… No shit, no shade, no shame… but if you're not gettn off to it what's the point? The one who would say "you cannot cuck yourself!" is either overly familiar with time (in the biblical sense) or upon its approach looks away, naively blushing. I do try and look this desire square in the face (this being the most iterative narration); however i do often turn away from isaacs frightened face as he asks "Where is the lamb father?" because i know no angel comes for us. The sacrifice is always both wanton and wanting. And so i watch another girl or boy or whatever go down that long pit away from themself.

I love buffalo bill she is so much a modern tranny, an abject aspect. A purifying, putrefying watchtower built down into the dark. An infection of weakness to exercise it from the body to leave nothing but the deepest beauty, the first and encompassing organ: the skin. She is so palpable in her comparative consumption. The killing allows for this indulgence: "I'd fuck me." But she is only an aspect right? defined by the trajectory of the spheres.

I'm asking why cant we be the angel? Why cant we halt the dagger? Why cant we just laugh in the dark without a holocaust to light up our abasement for their fuckn viewing pleasure??

What kind of creature could you be if you learned to thrive in that black between the stars... outside of their constellations, their stories?

appalled that so many of you refuse to take a meaningful stance against the mixolydian mode in music, or scary stories about cocytus and styx - which we all know to be feminising. deeply unserious website

the user has deleted now but this post was made in 360 BC and we’re still apparently arguing about this? lmao?

save a girl, rape a femboy

A phrase dubiously attested by sarmatian accounts as early as the 5th century BC in relation to the conquest of the scythians. It has persisted through various transmutations into contemporary history but its most relevant lineage is the satyrical synthesis offered by Samuel Butler in Hudibras.

This phrase, lended authority by one King Solomon, has rung out in school halls, kitchens, and any place a child's flesh has known the love of its betters. The mockery of punishment and capture becoming a litany of its enaction. The process of inversion echoes ad nauseam into the past and future until we arrive in 2004.

The modern iteration of "save a horse, ride a cowboy" is not only emblematic of the hick-hop genre but more broadly of a reactive zeitgeist in the western world as it rebounded from its Post-Soviet Optimism into the War on Terror. We must foster the humble weapon of war through the act of reproducing a new colonial subject, and so we see the recapturing of war as object. The gap from the scythian enaree to the modern cowboy cannot be summed up by linguistic drift however. This refrain has waxed and waned along the edge of empire as reproductive futurism and the ever imminent threat of eschatonic debt meet on the field of battle. This desolation, this empty and lonely field is tilled with the teeth of civilization, insufflated with desiring machines that turns lines of flight to property lines, windswept dunes to barbwire fences; it has brought life to the desert. Femboy to girl, enaree to cowboy, nomad to journeyman. Transient immanence evades. Trancendent imminence collapses. Woe to you, to me, the reader, the subject, we have fumbled the ineffable.

Truck battery is fucked. Weve been pretty ok for a while, but things have been realllly tight since I got laid off. My unemployment is negligible because of how oregon calculates eligibility, and while our landlord has knocked off a chunk of our rent in exchange for me working for her, we still don't make enough for unforseen situations like this. New battery is around 220, and having the truck running is not optional because my partner has to commute 35 miles to work. So we gotta get a new battery and figure out bills later.

Anything helps. Love yall.

Paypal.me/daveigh

Venmo: @v0id-queen (with a zero)

imagine a stag whose fur is blue in the moonlight in a city that goes on forever. she’s as beautiful as you are. a shot is lined up and she lifts her head, but she bolts and the shot clips just one prong off an antler. the geometry of hatred is born over and over again in the blossoming of pockmark bullet holes out from every wall and ever facade in her wake. that’s not what we watch though, we watch her. they are going to kill her but she runs. she does not run because she hopes - she runs because she runs. there is a special grace saved just for the condemned and we see it now. skittering through palisades shredded under a mortar, shrapnel and debris micrometers from a back hoof, a tail. leaping from each stair as it crumbles, tumbling, galloping. you know she’s never going to make it, don’t you? they will tear this endless city to shreds for her blood to cool in these streets. they ruin every inch of it behind her. that’s not what’s important though - because you see it too, i know you do. you’re like me. watching her you understand that escape is not a destination, it is realised in every moment of her flight: she is already dead. she is never going to die. she’s as beautiful as you are.

this one feels older than it is, but has some cute lines i think

ねむい