Gewgaws and Trinkets.
A growing collection of shit I find on the internets.
Last night dad and I discussed the hotness of various male celebrities. Dad would name one and I would tell him if he was hot or not hot. The best part was that it was obvious when he disagreed with me, but he couldn’t bring himself to call another man hot.
“I’m not attracted to men,” he said awkwardly. I pointed out that I wasn’t either, but young Ian McKellen was hot and that is fact.
Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?
It’s like resting a laundry basket against your hip and suddenly you’re a long-suffering peasant woman, wondering if you’ll survive the winter.
a shawl wrapped around the shoulders and you’re wandering the moors in a Brönte novel, feeling melancholic
Looking out the window at the rain and you’re a love-stricken newlywed wondering when your husband will return from the war.
Long skirt billowing behind you while to go down the stairs, you’re a proper Lady in a flowing ball gown being introduced at a fancy social function.
Hair blowing in the wind and suddenly you’re hovering on a cliff by the sea, staring out into the waves and praying your merchant husband will return from his voyage across the ocean
Hood up against the rain and wind and you’re a medieval abbess defying the weather and travelling on foot with your people to find a place to establish a new community.
Wiping your hands on your apron and you’re an 18th century kitchen girl rushing to let in the delivery boy you secretly love.
The cool fall wind catches your skirt, sends leaves swirling around your feet, and catches your hair and sends it flying behind you, and suddenly you’re a enchantress roaming the woods, daring any man to challenge your power.
(via ehlersdanloszebra)
aaaand some cripplepunk
[Image description: Series of three photos of Pamplemousse, a biracial black trans wheelchair user, taking mirror selfies with his purple phone in his slightly messy room. In the first photo, he is standing wearing a striped blue and purple shirt and faded black jeans tucked into ankle-high, holographic green Doc Martens. He has black, shoulder-length 3c natural hair and some scruffy facial hair, and is looking neutrally into the camera. His knees hyperextend slightly and one earbud dangles out of his ear.
In the second photo, he is sitting casually in his gray and black power chair with knees stuck together and boots over the front casters, wearing a brown corduroy jacket with sherpa lining.
In the third photo, he’s wearing the same thing, with him and chair at 3/4s profile, legs crossed knee over knee and a boot kicked slightly. A messenger bag is hanging off the backrest. One hand is up to say, “Hello.”]
new rule
I swear I need to start calling it “colin cravening someone” when ableds think that a compounding pharmacy formula of scolding, fresh air, and social gatherings will cure you of being grumpy, self-indulgent, and/or disabled at all.
[Image description: Cartoon titled, “The Inevitable Results of a Colin Craven”. Pamplemousse, a black trans guy in boots and a striped t-shirt, is blissfully flying away from his power chair (labeled “Beauchamp”), various pill bottles (labeled “anxiety meds, immunosuppressants, antivirals, pain meds, bladder meds, etc”), cane, TENS unit with leads (labeled “for degenerated discs”), and MedicAlert bracelet on angel wings. Someone off-screen says, “I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself! Get some sun!” He responds, “Thx for the fresh air and meanness, ableds! I’ll never use any of this disability shit again!” An arrow pointing to the redness of his cheeks says, “Healthy glow…or the start of a lupus rash.”]
This is a callout post for my joints
Stop hurting and function properly you fucks
(via cisphobiclunalovegood)
Hey so friendly reminder about voting and elections that I haven’t seen going around yet but is SUPER IMPORTANT.
Watch what you wear and say while you’re waiting in line for the voting booth/at the polls. It is against federal law to do anything that might be considered campaigning once you’re there, and since we know that voter suppression is the name of the game this election, there will be people looking for ANY reason to remove you from the polling place. And they will nitpick. You have a shirt with a artistic picture of donkey on it? You’re visibly supporting the Democrats, you’re disqualified from voting. Want to wear a Black Lives Matter shirt? Not there you don’t. They’ll call it intimidation and kick you out. Pins, buttons, stickers, none of it. Wear the most bland, plain clothes you can imagine.
And then keep your mouth shut. Even the slightest hint of discussion about which candidate you’re voting for can get used against you. Don’t assume the people around you are safe to discuss it with. You might be overheard. There WILL people watching for these things, hoping to get rid of anyone they can. Voter suppression isn’t just about making registration impossible. It happens at the polling stations too. Be smart, be bland, be quiet, and make sure your vote gets in.
Also- and I have seen this mentioned but it bears repeating- DO NOT TAKE A PICTURE OF YOUR BALLOT. EVER. It’ll also disqualify your vote. Take a selfie when you’re out of their with your fun little sticker.
(via cisphobiclunalovegood)