“It just seems like right now we’re in a place where people are being witch-hunted for expressing an opinion. Even if it’s a lousy opinion or a shitty opinion, and comics I don’t think can ever fall into the trap of any groups that want to censor what a person says or thinks or punish a person for expressing what they think. Anything you say about a social issue is going to offend half the country. I don’t care how nicely you say it, I don’t care how well you construct the joke, simply by stating the opinion, you are for something and anti something else.”—Jim Norton (via thatlitsite)
Elaine demonstrates a complete and total lack of morality, an apathy for others that is typical of sociopaths. She occasionally behaves in a manner more befitting of a wild animal than any sort of human.
George does not possess the inclination for evil deeds like Elaine, but he is…
You were eleven years old when they called you a faggot. They accused you of looking at their genitalia, hairless things incapable of any real harm. You weren’t, you wouldn’t, but they had you on the ground, your face against the cold tile. You wondered if this is how it would always be, if there would always be a barefooted man pressing you against an icy surface. One day you’d sink in, they’d have buried you. This was a reassuring thought. Yes, you’d be waving the white flag, admitting defeat, allowing viciousness to overpower you, have you sleep by the pipes. Still, it would be quiet. It would be a place devoid of hate and all antagonism. It would be a makeshift paradise.
Our parents often tell us to make do with what we have. Sometimes we have a lot and this is reasonable. Other times we are scavenging for food and affection. To make do becomes unreasonable. You were called names and had to change schools. Yet, you were told to maintain a stoic kind of calm. And you were followed there too. Yet, you were told that success and looks weren’t measured in their terms. And you are still being followed.
Listen, it’s been years since the first time I’ve been shoved. And I’ve been shoved quite a lot since. I’ve also done my own fair share of shoving. These things happen. We are forced into feeling crazy levels of rage, something that I choose to believe isn’t inherent.
I’m hurting right now. I feel myself melding into the tile, the crevices without much cement. I feel my eyes spreading apart. I feel my heart caving in on itself. I am putty. I am a result, a blend of experiences and my own insight. But every so often I go back. I think back to the first pains, both physical and mental. I find myself out of breath. I don’t want to be this person, weak and vulnerable. I don’t want to be prey, but I don’t want to destroy anybody either. I’m hurting right now and feel like I only have myself to blame.
shoutouts to everyone i follow who doesn't append useless text to the ends of post captions allowing me to happily reblog posts from my phone without thinking about needing to edit them at a desktop later
Hello Tumblr ppl I have a new short story, “Nonsense” on ELECTRIC CEREAL. Check it out . It takes place in a dystopian future where you have to pay to use your five senses like we pay for electricity and water today. It’s also relatively short and you’ll be glad since it’s pretty dark.
i really should submit more stuff to electric-cereal but that would require me to actually write something not terrible ahahaha
i tried to google for a photo of a moth sitting on a rose but all i could find with the query “rose moth” was pictures of colourful pastel shaded moths that someone in some deluded fashion would call “pretty”