Monday, October 20, 2014

No one needs to tell you that
there’s no use for you here anymore
And where are your friends?
They’ve gone away
It’s a different world
They’ve left you to this
to janitor
the emptiness …

Sunday, October 19, 2014

So my friend Meg came in from Virginia and I drove her to That Old University I Was At to visit her roommate, Chelsea. I haven’t seen Meg is over two and a half years, and not a single thing seems to have changed (I’m sure if she were here right now, she’d tell me at least she's gotten more mature). My other friend Megan - who I’ve been weirdly inseparable from recently, between driving with her to visit Chicago in August, umpteen trips to Columbus within weeks (or so) of each other, etc. - came down from Columbus.

And last night we went out, met up with old friends, howdoyado’s, couple drinks, whatever.

Ended up going to this bar where I spoke to a much, much older man about what he was drawing. It ended up being a biomechanical chamber that he’d helped develop for NASA years ago to transport questionable materials from one enclosing to another without exposing it to the atmosphere and endangering lives. Woah. We talk for like forty five minutes, I loop in Meg. He tells us about being the first American to race in the Grand Prix in Germany. Which then loops in Megan, a semi-professional boarder. We watch the Grand Prix on TV, see the world champion crash and burn, we end up closing the bar. From there we take it to a UDF of all awful places (college towns at 3 a.m.!) and take the conversation and stories and everything there. He seemed to have endless stories of being in a fake “senator’s cabinet” to get luxury treatment on a trip to Britain, meeting Liza Minelli, how he has to teach his dorky grad students how to talk to girls, shitty writing, how growing your own weed in California comes down to knowing your sheriff, and his blossoming love for French films (“they’re more down to earth, more real”) and he doled out endless curiosity in us and our lives, too.  End up saying goodbye at 5, but not before he gives us campus business card with his personal email on the back. Supposedly we were the first real conversation he’d had since coming there, and (to me, at least) it’s no surprise because we don’t attend that place anymore.

We go back to Chelsea’s place and all three crash on a pull out sofa mattress, intermittently laughing our heads off about our weird luck, the skater lingo “Groms” for younger skaters, and Meg’s love for the phrase “booty ass.”

Wake up, brunch, drop acid, Cards Against Humanity with just the three of us because Chelsea had to take a nap, let shit get weird, finally split a few hours ago.

I wish I still had the pictures of the three of us drinking godawful long island iced tea premix shit out of Meg’s glasses and eating weirdly doughy cookies, there’s like 20 of them from this one night. Meg still has them, I’m sure of that.

Funny, I don’t think I’ve ever known I was really close with two people like that before, at least not over this extended period of time.

riseofthecommonwoodpile:

Ru Paul is trash and if you need more evidence I submit that Henry Rollins was a guest judge on Ru Paul’s Drag Race

This one I’ll co-sign.

Anonymous said: could you maybe explain the drag queen thing i dont get it im sorry

peppapigvevo:

chrysalisamidst:

poppunkvampire:

drag queens often perform incredibly catty misogynistic stereotypes of womanhood and use a huge amount of misogynistic slurs and transmisogynistic slurs. it’s also incredibly common for drag circles to excuse or actively engage in racism, see Shirley Q Liquor, who wears actual blackface onstage (which RuPaul defended publicly and insisted wasn’t racist). and when RuPaul’s Drag Race was called out by the trans community for frequently using transmisogynistic slurs and then designing a game on the show where the goal was literally to “clock” trans women, the drag community rose to defend him, and he got away with a weak-ass fauxpology. additonally, drag is a performance, so the performers can shed womanhood (particularly the dangerous territory of DMAB womanhood) at will, and do not actually experience misogyny or transmisogyny in any real way. drag culture also often blurs the lines between drag and non-cis genders as a way of excusing transmisogyny, which perpetuates attitudes in queer communities that non-cis genders are performative and therefore to be judged on how “well” they are performed. this often makes cis queer spaces very uncomfortable for trans people; people will openly clock you and comment on your ability to “pass”. I have no problem with drag as a gender expression, or with DMAB people who express femininity, but I have a huge fucking problem with drag culture.

FUCKING THIS. 

yall learn this

I have never read something more incoherent than the idea that drag queens are promoting the notion that identifying as non-cisgendered is a “performance,” though they are very real concerns with drag culture, especially regarding trans slurs and the manner in which trans queens are treated.

Still, to even imply that drag queens just suddenly stop being drag queens when they’re out of drag? Unreal. Only someone completely removed from drag culture could read that conclusion. It’s not just a performance that is just turned off after the makeup and heels are removed, and drag queens are never treated like gay cis males.

Which isn’t to say they’re subjected to the same abuse that transwomen are forced to endure, but that shouldn’t imply that drag queens don’t experience abuse in any “real” way.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

I blew in last night, I’m the host from the coast
When the lighting is bad, I’m the man with the most
And you left me to choke on a heart up in smoke
Smiling through your tears and your tetracycline
Overdose

Sunday, October 12, 2014

No I kid.

Nico is destroying me though. That’s a real thing happening right now.

"Evening of Light." FUCK

60’s music just tastes better than today’s music.

Few things as dull as waiting for the acid to kick in.

I don’t know what this has to do with Albert Ayler, but somewhere in my psyche they’re interlinked, I suppose.

My father fell off of a roof in Denver yesterday and was sent to the hospital.

The pity party rolled around to “let me know.” Typical.

Look, if you purposefully fuck me over and ignore me for a year+, I’m liable to write off any horrible thing that happens to you and your loved ones as “karma.”