most mad and moonly

He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.

What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.

I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.

I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.

It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.

It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.

Catalina Ferro, “Manifesto” (via dialecticsof)

I feel like people do need to remember that there is a very real, very painful, very human element to the word “revolution”.

(via nuanced-subversion)

I check my Facebook page 36 times a day for the sole purpose of making sure I have not accidentally posted a nude photo of myself

I reread an email 13 times before pressing send to ensure I have not written something in the email that could convict me of a crime

Before taking a stage when asked if I allow flash photography I always want to say “No” because I’m terrified flash photography will give me epilepsy

I know it doesn’t work like that, still

I never eat nuts on an airplane out of fear of that I will suddenly develop a nut allergy and if I have to asphyxiate I don’t want it to happen at 30,000 feet

Twice in the last two years I’ve been aborted from an airplane for running screaming down the aisles as the plane was taking off

I can’t walk through San Francisco without worrying my indigestion is the beginning of an earthquake
I brace for tsunamis beside lakes in Colorado
I’m not joking
The last time I saw Niagara Falls I couldn’t take it
It was too much much
I had to plug my ears to look at it and close my eyes to listen

Generally I can’t do all my senses at the same time they are too much much

Like if you touch me without warning, whoever you are, it will take everything I have to not hate you

Imagine your hands are electrical sockets and I am constantly aware that I am 70% water
it’s not that I’ve not tried to build a dam

Ask my therapist who pays her mortgage
My cost of living went up
at five years old when I told my mother I have to stop going to birthday parties because every time I hear a balloon pop I feel like I’m gonna get murdered in the heart

Last year a balloon popped on the stage where I was performing, I started crying in front of the whole crowd
plugged my ears and kept repeating the word “LOUD LOUD LOUD LOUD” it was super sexy

That’s what I do
I do super sexy

Like when I asked the super cute barista 11 times ‘are you sure this is decaffeinated? Are you sure this is decaffeinated? Are you sure that’- yes I drink decaffeinated and still jitter like a bug running from the bright bright bright

I have spent years of my life wearing a tight rubber band hidden beneath my hair so my brain could have a hug

These days when no one’s looking I wear a fuzzy fitted winter hat that buttons tight beneath the chin

I only ever wear a tie so that when I convince myself I’m choking my senses have something they are certain they can blame

As a kid I was so certain I would die the way of meteor falling on my head
I would go whole weeks without looking at the sky ‘cause I didn’t want to witness the coming of my own death

I started tapping the kitchen sink seven times to build a shield

My mother started making lists of everything I thought would kill me in hopes that if I saw my fears they would disappear
Bless her heart but the first time I saw that list I started filling a salad bowl with bleach and soaking my shoe laces overnight so in the morning when I ironed them they would be so bright I would be certain I had control over
how much dark could break into my light
how much jack hammer could break into my heart
My spine it has always been a lasso that could never catch my breath

I honestly can’t imagine how it would feel to walk into a room full of people and not feel the roof collapsing on my ‘NO NO NO I am not fine’

Fine is the suckiest word
it never tells the truth

And more than anything I have ever been afraid of I am terrified of lies
How they war the world
How they sound by our tongues
How they bone dry the marrow

How did we get through high school without being taught Dr. King spent two decades having panic attacks?
Avoided Windows
Jumped at thunder

I think we are all part flight the fight
part run for your life
Part ‘please please please like me’
Part Can’t breathe
Part scared to say you’re scared
Part say it anyway

You panic button collector
You clock of beautiful ticks
You run out the door if you need to
You flock to the front row of your own class
You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here

You belong here and everything you feel is okay
Everything you feel is okay

"Panic Button Collector" - Andrea Gibson

This is the best poem about anxiety that I have ever read.

(via thinkmewhole)

Myers Briggs By Superpowers

readingontheroof:

INFJ: Visions of the future
ESTP: Superhuman strength
INTJ: Immortality
ESFP: Ability to freeze time
INFP: Literary manipulation
ESTJ: Power negation
INTP: Omniscience
ESFJ: Healing powers
ISFJ: Visions of the past
ENTP: Dimensional travel
ISTJ: Photographic memory
ENFP: Reality warping
ISFP: Shape shifting
ENTJ: Mind control
ISTP: Invulnerability
ENFJ: Empathic powers

wolfknuckles:

Do u ever have to remind yourself that “headcanons” you think up for your own OCs are actually canon

Adam Hills: Inflatable [x]

koryos:

Dominance Behavior in Canids

I didn’t really even WANT to make a post about this.

The alpha-beta-omega model of wolf packs is dead in scientific literature, hammered into the ground, so to speak, and it’s been dead for over ten years. So why am I still hearing about it on TV and reading about it in articles? Why are popular dog trainers that encourage you to “be the alpha” still taken seriously?

I think the unfortunate truth is that the idea that there are strong and ferocious leaders in wolf packs and that you, too, can take on that role with your dog is just somehow appealing to people. Almost romantic, in the older sense of the word. And because of this, it makes money. It sells werewolf media. It sells dog training classes. Educational science channels that have no business promoting this false ideology keep it on board because it gets people watching.

If you couldn’t tell, I’m pretty fed up with the whole thing.

Okay, let’s talk about dominance, particularly what the word even means, because popular media does a terrible job of explaining it.

Read more…

my favorite thing I’ve discovered when looking up stock investment recently was a Yahoo Answer to the question of whether the stock market really crashes every 10-15 years reading “Has it crashed in the last 15 years? I don’t think so!” which was posted in 2007

datakin:

labels are for soup cans and queer kids who want to know that they aren’t alone

Israeli settler attempts to enter a Palestinian man’s house to take down his flag, gets stuck on the barbed wire. 

Follow-up: Owner says he agreed to remove flag after soldiers promised to release neighbor they arrested for throwing stones.

If the signs were mythological creatures:
Aries: Werewolf
Taurus: Hell hound
Gemini: Doppelgänger
Cancer: Banshee
Leo: Fairy
Virgo: Angel
Libra: Nymph
Scorpio: Siren
Sagittarius: Ghost
Capricorn: Mermaid
Aquarius: Meme
Pisces: Shapeshifter

people are calling this last strip heavy-handed, but the characterization of women in OotS is like the only thing I’ve ever occasionally been critical of, albeit moreso years back when I first started reading along

and I would’ve been happy continuing on with this nice gradual unacknowledged ascent into where we are now, which is midway through an internet comic strip with better-written female characters than a lot of popular fiction I could name, but I am ALSO extremely happy that this latest strip is like A CAPS-LOCK APOLOGY FOR POSSIBLE PAST MISTAKES IN PORTRAYING WOMEN

as well as reassurance that the no-longer-occasionally-vaguely-sexist characterization is the result of conscious intent rather than some sort of coincidental fluke that could, let us say, unfluke itself at any time, which was an unlikely scenario but still nice to have disproven

tl;dr: vive les well-rounded female characters & also OotS is my very favorite

japhers:

quick painting of sorts
(funfact: in Tagalog we call rainbows “bahaghari” as in “king’s loincloth” )

japhers:

quick painting of sorts

(funfact: in Tagalog we call rainbows “bahaghari” as in “king’s loincloth” )

reblog if capitalism ruined ur chill aesthetic

goldenheartedrose:

qoyqoyi:

cinematicnomad:

apparently e.l. james called former child star mara wilson (matilda) a “sad fuck” for critiquing the 50shades books a while ago and now there’s a feud. i love it.

this gives me hope.

I love her. Oh my god.