hose270

[hose270]

It's fascinating how the Internet Roadtrip has so closely replicated all the pitfalls of democracy. As the population grows, factions break out—are you a detourist? a pathist? a purist? Pick a side, cast your vote, tear down the enemy. Plans and policies go haywire when the hivemind, the silent majority, votes against them. The endless options of the North American roadway are shrunk into simple binaries: continue towards Canada, or keep exploring Acadia? We get locked in a stalemate, each side winning in alternating U-turns, the car pacing back and forth along the same stretch of highway for hours, going nowhere. And then election fraud—bots pour in, hundreds of them, thousands even, overwhelming the vote, banishing the car to an island. Perhaps the only way to overcome the opposition is to use the tools of our enemy—counterbots flood the polls. It gets worse before it gets better, and finally, the system that allowed manipulation—not out of malicious intent, but simply as a consequence of unforeseen abuse—at last, that system changes, safeguards fall back into place, and once the external threat is gone, we turn on one another again.

And yet, for all the arguments, all the tribalism, all the exhausting battles against injustice, every now and then, the voice of the people rings out in a beautiful, clear harmony. We escape the harbor. We get to Bangor. Amidst mock arguments about gambling and McDonalds, we tour the city, we visit landmarks, we see what we came here to see. Soon we will leave, and the car will again fill with conflict over routes and destinations, but for now, democracy has done its work, and it is lovely.

[hose270]

I’ve been in love before,

or at least I’m pretty sure I have.

There were all the silly symptoms— shortness of breath, elevated heartrate, difficulty speaking—

But it was the difficulty sleeping that I remember the most, the late-night conversations. The space between our words was cozy, and for weeks, I could sleep nowhere else.

I remember a compliment like a core memory, phrases I’ll never forget. We weren’t a great match, but impracticality was immaterial— love didn’t care about logic, and nor did I. All I cared about was her, or so my reflections tell me.

And now there’s you, practically perfection personified, everything I could have asked for. I should be head over heels, but I’m not feeling it. No twitterpated tension, no constant thoughts of reunion.

Something must be wrong with me, because nothing is wrong with you. Would I recognize love if I felt it again? I’ve been in love before,

[hose270]

WHAT is This in 2 Néfi 5:21? broooo 💀💀💀💀💀

I've delayed answering this ask for a little bit because I wanted to be thoughtful with it, even though your ask itself honestly says most of my opinion 🤣 It is an insane verse!! Shock and cringe are absolutely the correct response to it!!

Church scholars have discussed this verse and the surrounding sections at LENGTH. Apologists have tried to downplay or deny how obviously racist it is; some people I've talked with will instead distance it from the Church's current viewpoints. When I was in high school, my seminary teachers emphasized that the "cursing because of their iniquity" and the "skin of blackness" were separate occurrences: the Lamanites were cursed by being cut off from God's presence, and then, as a separate thing from a curse, they were marked in a way that would make the Nephites avoid them. God isn't a racist, but Nephite society might have been racist. When i was in college at BYU, my Book of Mormon professors talked about the possibility that Nephi himself held racist views, and/or that Joseph Smith Jr. did, and those opinions affected the way they wrote. Again, the point they held was that God is not racist and that black skin is not a curse--but that God's prophets, being imperfect mortal humans, might have thought so.

My wife, who is proudly American Indian and a staunch member of the Church (and has the most beautiful skin of brownness in the world), has a different opinion of this verse: she interprets the talk of white and black skin to be less about literal skin color and more about health and wellbeing. "Fair and delightsome" can refer to a skin that is bright, well-hydrated, vitalized, and soft. On the other hand, when someone is dirty, malnourished, and unhappy, their skin can get grey and sallow. This interpretation recognizes that people all descended from the same bloodline will probably all have the same general amount of melanin, and God is not going to magically change that based on how good or bad they are. The visual difference between the Nephites and the Lamanites would instead be a natural consequence of their different lifestyles and values.

Unfortunately, the idea that Good Nephites Are White and Bad Lamanites Are Black was so disgustingly pervasive throughout the Church that it saturates almost all the spiritual art we grew up with. Book of Mormon heroes were consistently portrayed as pale Europeans by cartoons, comics, novels, and iconic paintings, not just in their skin tone but in their features and even their clothing. In those same media, Lamanites--the villains and the outsiders--were dark-complexioned Mesoamericans wearing loincloths and feathers. Shock and cringe are the correct response to this!!!

Here at Book of Mormon Memes, we recognize that neither the Nephites nor the Lamanites fit into our modern definitions of White or Black. Lehi's family came from the Middle East, and later populations in the Book of Mormon lived in Central America and integrated with the indigenous people there. Realistically, they should look like people from Palestine and Lebanon and Mexico and Guatemala. They should not look like this pasty travesty that somehow became a cornerstone of our religious culture holy crap

I might actually scream thinking about this colossal embarrassment

[hose270]

i don’t want to be better at adulting

i want to be better at being

human. i want to collect little

trinkets. i want to move my 

body to silly sounds. i want

to touch more. i want to live.

~K.T.

[hose270]

“I had no time to hate” by Emily Dickinson

I had no time to Hate– Because The Grave would hinder Me– And Life was not so Ample I Could finish–Enmity–

Nor had I time to Love– But since Some Industry must be– The little Toil of Love– I thought Be large enough for Me–

[hose270]

cinderella adaptation for my comics history class :)

[hose270]

i am not who i thought i would be at 26

i thought i would’ve moved out

of my parents house. thought i’d

be in love by now. maybe even 

married. i thought i would have 

a little more than blood in the 

cracks of my hands.

~K.T.

[hose270]

hey, we’ll be ok

[hose270]

“hope” is added to the endangered species list

we haven’t seen it in years. 

i am afraid we won’t, but

there is a glimmer every

so often that makes me

believe in the impossible. 

that settles in my chest anyway.

~K.T.

[hose270]

I’m having a meltdown. When I was 9 years old I read an article in a magazine called Backyard Adventures about how this antelope, the saiga, was on the verge of extinction. I enlisted the help of my best friend and launched a fundraising campaign called Save the Saigas. We sold lemonade, had bake sales, sold belongings, yelled at strangers as they passed in their cars. Our parents were able to match the money we made. Our school helped. It wasn’t much, it didn’t save them, but it helped the organization at least a little bit.

Y’all. The saigas have been saved. A little piece of my passionate child heart that has seemed hopelessly lost and endlessly disappointed for a long time feels so soothed. Maybe it’s not all hopeless. Maybe our efforts aren’t a complete waste. Maybe we keep trying and actually hope for the best.

[hose270]

[hose270]

[hose270]

my number one sleep aid this week is turning out to be Drawing More Space Bullshit

[hose270]

snoopy of the day

[hose270]

last christmas man me a sand but the very next day man car door hook hand

[hose270]

stop treating killing dragons as this act of bravery and valor. maybe ou should be kissieng and loving the dragons instead. and be more niceys

[hose270]

every morning, in the small gaps between my awaking, and when my heart breaks again, i see your bundle of love.

yellows and pinks swaddled in a jar on my desk which remind me I'm not all alone, after all: that loneliness is not infinite. i believe we speak a secret language, known only to the blooms, and the gods of healing.