syd | mid-20s | mostly blogging about the same things I was interested in at age 8 (jokes, dead shit, cool animals, scary stories)
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Sidney Sime (British,1865–1941) - Wild Beast Wood
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how it feels to receive a rejection from a magazine a mere two days after submitting the short story
#to be clear there is not an ounce of sarcasm in this post#I'm used to wait times of four months months to a year#in fact I currently have a pending submission that I submitted to a magazine on may 30 of 2024#I have not queried it yet because submission grinder shows that their responses often take 400+ days#so two days is a miracle! now I can try again elsewhere!!! yay
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y'all it's about to get really fucking humid and hot
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ICE is in Los Angeles conducting raids and arresting families and children on their way to their court dates and raiding workplaces. Trump has called the National Guard in to stop protestors and is spreading a false narrative about violence, raiding, etc. to distract from the fact that ICE is abducting children in a SANCTUARY CITY.
Do not look away, do not be silent. If you or a loved one is detained by ICE, stay silent except to ask for your lawyer. Keep your documents on you. Call legal aid foundations who are standing by.
If you are NOT in LA and want to help, you can contact rapid response networks and ask how to help or donate. Donate to ACLU, the Mexican American Legal Defense Fund (MALDEF), or the Immigrant Defense Project.
Here are some slides with good tips to share and a list of SoCal rapid response networks:
DO NOT LOOK AWAY!
And as a not so gentle reminder, if you voted for Trump or his ilk you can unkindly get the fuck off my page. You're not welcome here.
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Stephen King character internal monologues: All that running and running and no one can get you in the end, Jackie-boy, can they? Except those goddamn coyotes will chase you up a tree and goawaygoawaygoaway tear your legs off. And the lady with the big tits won’t be able to save you because the coyotes got you and your leg is already spurting all that blood. Ayuh.
#unfortunately my brain works this way too sometimes#which I suppose is why I can tolerate some of his books#key word being some#(I also say 'tolerate' as if there are not several that I fucking love)
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La Danse, Henri Matisse, 1909
Looking at La Danse, Louise Dahl-Wolfe, 1939
Dancing in front of Matisse, Sergei Podgorkov, 1970
Children imitating Matisse, 2016
Me and my friends at the MoMA, 2025
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This captures something I don't think I'll ever be able to put in to words.
Oh how I love shaun tan.
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i just listened to all the music thats ever been. my favorite was a song a little girl sang to her cat in greece in 1286. my second favorite was from a ceremonial performance in modern day ethiopia, from 22000 bc. i also liked STEELY DAN.
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to love me is to suffer me - dear god, why did anyone love me? what for?
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thinking about the time my instacart shopper got Cask of Amontillado’ed
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im in the break room full brightness if anyone wants to reblog some porn
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So last month I got hit by a car and died right. Which I didn't initially realize until I watched some guy haul my body into his pickup and drive off. Which, being that it's deep in rural Michigan, I assume means my body will make some venison jerky and maybe some wall decoration, and I'll be resigned to being one of hundreds of deer ghosts floating around Saginaw, which is w/e. But then I find out the guy works at a taxidermy shop or something, and he's actually pretty good at stuffing and mounting deer carcasses, which I come to find out when I find myself face to face with my old body in the shop window. So naturally, I figure since ghosts need to possess something to interact with the living world and etc etc etc the most logical thing to do is to possess my own body, since it's basically a statue of myself. And a little surprisingly, it actually fits like a glove. Like, since it's my body, it feels like stepping right back into place. So I get out of town and back to my herd, eventually. And that's where the trouble starts coming into it, because after I get settled again, I don't know how to explain to everyone else what feels so weird. Like since I can move my body and do everything I used to do, it's functionally the same, like nothing happened. Or it SHOULD be, so I don't know how to explain how it's NOT. But it's just hard to explain it to someone who's never been hit by a truck I guess
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i had this dream last night, totally out of nowhere. that Tom Milsom released new music. i mean, i guess he could’ve, i wouldn’t know, i’m not keeping tabs. Tom Milsom? oh he was like one of the original tumblr seapunks, infamously did a cover of 212 where he said the word, got cancelled for sex crimes. it was around the same time as the Nerimon thing. they were close friends actually. Nerimon? yeah they were both british youtubers, both got cancelled for sex crimes in similar circumstances. they were in the same circle as this trans girl who goes by Charlotte now, she’s cool though. this was pre-transition. ah you’re not familiar? her and Nerimon were in this trock band called Chameleon Circuit together. oh trock? it stands for time rock, uh, it’s rock music about the show Doctor Who. you know, cause he’s the time lord. a lot of trock artists were on DFTBA Records together. you know DFTBA right? it stands for “don’t forget to be awesome,” it was started by the Vlogbrothers. ahh so, the Vlogbrothers kinda originally got famous for this long-running vlog series where they’d trade off each week addressing their video to the other brother, but then they each independently got famous. one did a lot of science education stuff, and the other wrote some really popular YA novels, but then had the whole “cock is one of my favorite tastes” thing happen,
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