Biological father(derogatory)

The Nutcracker

The National Ballet of Canada

In this house we love and support 6’2” strongly muscled men with scars and calloused hands who just want to be the little spoon and want to be kissed on their neck and shoulders until they fall asleep and finally dream without nightmares because someone’s holding them and everything finally feels okay

"it's clearly not platonic! it can't be!" oh? and why is that? why can't it be platonic? what clear and definable qualities move it beyond the realm of platonic love? if you say "well friends would never do that" or "it's just obvious" i'll kill you btw

matching couples shirts that say "<- THE ONE WHO WILL INEVITABLY DESTROY ME"

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

If you're a writer you're supposed to write a lot of bullshit. It's part of the gig. You have to write a lot of absolute garbage in order to get to the good bits. Every once in a while you'll be like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time writing bullshit," but that's dumb. That's exactly the same as an Olympic runner being like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time running all those practice laps"

This is incredibly true. Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones calls this process composting and describes how she has filled notebook after notebook with, paraphrasing her own words, self-indulgent and unconsidered writing. Intentionally! Because it's good for the process. It's good to write whatever comes to mind without judging it while you write it and then come back later with a critical (but appreciative) eye.

Very true! That same practice is also an excellent time to try out effects, like fiddling with this reveal to see how it lands the hardest, or puzzling out that fight sequence and how to keep the pace. In the absence of something you're attached to "doing right," you get to toy with the craft!

And if you struggle with the idea of writing material you're not going to use... you can use it! I regularly recycle favorite lines from my sludge drafts (my word for composting), I just don't feel obligated to.

Write some bullshit. Make a mess! Have some fun with it. Not many crafts let you make so much mayhem that you don't have to clean up after.

i really do love those military jackets with embroidery that resembles a gilded ribcage they serve sooooooo much thanatological cunt it's unreal. the memento mori of it all. the bastardised martyrdom. the self-fulfilling prophecy of dressing yourself in silver and gold evoking the final, fragile shield between the most vital, vulnerable parts of you and annihilation, just to go to a place where the objective is to hack it to pieces as cruelly and efficiently as possible until you resemble nothing more than ground meat trodden into the dust you came from. fuck the military for real and forever but they went harder with horrifically ironic self-deceiving propaganda than anyone ever has or will. give it up for the old lie everyone!

the grief of growing

PSA: if you ever see me do a tag and I say “tagging whoever wants to do it,” and you think “she probably doesn’t mean me, though.” I do. I mean you. Say I tagged you. I want to read your stuff, I promise. Tagging people just takes Energy that I don’t always have and am not always sure who wants to be tagged. But please, if you ever see me do a game, and you think “wow I want to do that!” Even if I do tag other people, just do it. Say I tagged you. I will not mind, in fact, I will be happy to see your stuff. Ok? Good. That is all. Carry on.

CA Conrad, from ‘I Hope I’m Loud When I’m Dead’, ECODEVIANCE: (Soma)tics for the Future Wilderness