irkdesu

[irkdesu]

Sorry if that all was abrupt, my life has nothing in it now that is not awkward. I just... gotta say what’s going on at some point. I don’t really plan on saying much further on Char, I think suffice it to say that she’s not in my life now, hasn’t been since 2016. I avoid her. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with all the work I did in collaboration with her. Even just what to do with it mentally, you know?

And at some point, someone’s gonna ask what happened to Peacock King and it going from a cowritten thing to a single author thing. I’m still trying to figure all that out. The first novel was all written by me, but there’s so much old art I can’t use, so much of the story that has to change because there were things in it that were only in it because Char wanted them in there and had fun writing them or dictating them. I just can’t write those parts, they don’t come from my imagination, they’re from someone else’s.

There’s places to go from here, but it’s taking time to figure out. I spent the last year dealing with a lot, a LOT, of legal paperwork of all kinds, and I’m still not done with that phase of my life, but last year was extremely intense and it left me creatively unable to do epic fiction. It takes a lot of brain space to hold a world in your head, and my brain’s still trying to figure its shit out. I’ve made a lot of progress, but most of it was in the last few months while I didn’t have to do legal crap for awhile.

Anyway like... there’s a way forward? Things are positive? I won’t probably be back very often yet, I am dealing with a lot of stuff to make my life move forward in the direction I want it to.

[irkdesu]

Hey! Like... well it’s rough. I can’t exactly say in the Kickstarter updates that Char told me she couldn’t live with me during my transition, while she insisted that she was still definitely not transphobic, and repeatedly using the wrong pronouns even when corrected or asked very politely what the fuck. I spent a long time feeling like an illegitimate trans person and a failure at life, especially since she used me often for money or perks like vacations and food, and was extremely manipulative when it came to guilt. She’s not responsible for all of my PTSD but she certainly helped turn it into something very special.

I’m still trying to make Peacock King work. I’ve made some headway but it’s literally hard to work on this after the other person abandoned it. Also like... she spent a lot of time interacting with most of the community of authors and readers around Peacock King, so it’s felt like walking out onto a firing range because I felt like I couldn’t say anything about her and also just couldn’t say anything. And I’m tired of feeling like that.

That is not the reply you expected, I know, but it’s what my brain’s got right now and it’s why navigating back to my friendships is difficult for me mentally. Thanks for your support.

(Still alive, doing well, recovering from PTSD, back as soon as I take care of that last bit.)

[irkdesu]

BTW I like, own a house now and grew a moustache.

[irkdesu]

Me: Gee why am I so skittish about getting back onto social media this used to be such a fun place

Me two minutes later: *checks my followers and sees that my stalker ex was following me here, 11 years after I dumped them*

[irkdesu]

One effect of the PTSD: it’s very difficult to talk about the PTSD, that I’m having it, or that there’s a problem at all, so that’s why I’m so vague and brief. I can’t... word any harder than that yet.

Also like, some people have been solid pieces of shit to me, and fuck ‘em.

(Still alive, doing well, recovering from PTSD, back as soon as I take care of that last bit.)

[irkdesu]

(Still alive, doing well, recovering from PTSD, back as soon as I take care of that last bit.)

[irkdesu]

Posting art again!

Lyric draws Elric with his fingers in the dirt, reaching out.

One of the completed illustrations for Peacock King, available in print and ebook form next year!

[irkdesu]

What’s up with me and Peacock King

I’m a trans man! My pronouns are he/his. I go by Irk or Eric. If you know me IRL or closely online or you watch twitter then you already know this.

I came out as a trans man at work on Halloween-ish and that’s what I was waiting for when it came to making public posts about this! I have been slow to update social media because I was tryna get my creative ducks in a row and show you all cool Peacock King stuff, but this transition stuff has kinda changed the order of my whole life since about 2013, and majorly a few months after the Kickstarter, when with horror I realized I should have done fundraising after I came out as trans. I came out to backers earlier this year.

Where is the book???? I am still working on it, I’m the sole author and illustrator now which increased my workload on producing publishing assets right as I was also having to focus a lot of energy and focus on medical and insurance and paperwork stuff. I am still working on all that! I even have a therapist to help me sort it all out. I am hoping to publish Peacock King in early Spring 2017. I really want this book done but so much was tied up in it. So much of me is in this book and the story itself really made me face that I have to transition. So it’s been so difficult to get everything together to publish, especially because the cover I designed had to have the correct name on it and that meant starting transition and coming out at work before publishing! Everything is so goshdarn complicated.

Tuesday’s election shenanigans sort of set me back when it came to all my anti-anxiety work but now I feel energized to bring this work to the world and keep going with it. It’s a very pro-trans work and it has a fantasy world where gender-neutral pronouns are the norm and there’s just so much in this book and the rest of its series that I feel is really important to the world right now. So I’m not going to let fear silence me and I’m going to finish this work.

Bear with me, energy is something I have in short supply a lot of times these days. I’ve had to really pace myself to get things done. But I can do it and I will do it. I’m also four months into testosterone and growing irregular facial hair and my voice is getting deeper and I got a haircut and a lot has changed for the better and it will keep changing. Everything is in flux but I feel better than I have for so much of my life. So be there with me and let’s finish off 2016 and show 2017 what we’re made of!

[irkdesu]

I'm still alive! Kind of still overwhelmed by life, though. I will be back soon, still working on life stuff and Peacock King stuff.

[irkdesu]

tumblr giveaway!

reblog this post for your chance to be KIDNAPPED by the BIRD KING!

rules:

only reblogs count

no giveaway blogs

you dont have to be following me

the BIRD KING has not given me the full details on what he plans to do with the person he kidnaps

from what i know, i believe he plans to make you his BIRD QUEEN

or possibly BIRD KING-CONSORT or if you prefer gender-neutral terms then just BIRD CONSORT. it does not matter. the BIRD KING is PANSEXUAL

the giveaway will end WHEN THE BIRD KING DEMANDS IT

leave your inbox open, ill contact the winner on where and when they will be KIDNAPPED by the BIRD KING

good luck!

[irkdesu]

HOW I DISCOVERED I AM WHITE

By renegademama (Janelle Hanchett)

RENEGADE MOTHERING

When I was 14 or so, I asked my grandmother why we didn’t have a “white club” at school. I don’t recall her response, but I do remember feeling particularly smug and vaguely angry that there was a “Latino” club and a “Chinese” club but not a “white” club.

Oh the unfairness! Oh the disparity! Why do we celebrate their heritage but not ours?

And I didn’t think about race again, at least not much, until I dated an African American man in college and a stranger whispered “nigger lover” in my ear one night as he walked by us in a grocery store. Disgusting.

I figured he was a strange exception of horrible racist creature. He was, after all, approximately 97 years old. (Well, 70, but he appeared 97 to my fresh young eyes.)

And then, a few months later, when my boyfriend’s roommate took me aside and asked why I have to “take a good black man who was in college,” when so many black men were incarcerated. I concluded she was crazy. And mean.

She hurt my feelings. Poor Janelle.

Beyond these few moments, and a couple others, I didn’t really think about race. Well, I thought about how people made arguments “about race” when clearly they were not. I mean why do they make race an issue? It’s obviously not.

Oh yeah, I had America all figured out: If ya work hard, you get ahead. And if you don’t get ahead, it’s because you made bad decisions. And if you get arrested it’s because you’re breaking the law, and people who break the law are more likely to be black. Obviously. That’s why they’re always getting arrested. (How’s that for some cyclic logic?)

I knew this to be true because:

America was awful to black people but that was fixed during the Civil Rights movement;

Therefore, we are all on equal footing now and if you don’t succeed it’s because you aren’t trying.

I learned it in school. It was fact. School teaches the truth.

And then, graduate school, and Professor Lee.

Oh, shit.

“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”

WHAT THE WHAT?

She made us repeat it like a mantra. At least 3 times. I read Tim Wise’s White Like Me (I have mixed feelings about him now, but I digress) and bell hooks and David Roediger’s Wages of Whiteness and learned how our economic systems benefit from racism and we read about thehistory of American immigration laws (have you ever read them?) and colonialism in the Philippines and elsewhere (yes, America has colonies but we call them “territories”), and we read about redlining and white flight (ever wonder how black people ended up in urban centers?), and we read some DuBois and Omi & Winant and literature by people of color and all of the sudden I realized I had been fucking lied to.

I understood America through white eyes. I understood the world through the mainstream, polished glasses of a nice clean history of “we used to be bad now we’re not the end.”

Go team.

I discovered I was white.

“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”

She wanted us to see that as individuals, not all white people are bigoted. But she also wanted us to see that every white person – whether they are bigoted or not – benefits from the racially structured hierarchies in America. They benefit from racism.

Yes. Even me. Even though I am not “racist.”

How? And she explained whiteness. She explained that “white” is the standard. White is the background against which difference is measured.

In other words, it’s “white” until further notice. It’s “white” until proven otherwise. It’s “white” or it’s the “other,” and it has nothing to do with actual numbers, percentages of “minority” population. It has to do with power. It has to do with the culture of power. What do I mean? If a comedy film features a white family, it’s a comedy. If it features a black family, it’s a blackcomedy.

Think about it.

White is the standard. And I’m white. Therefore, I am standard, and that benefits me.

When I walk into a room, I don’t fear that I’m representing my whole race. I have never acted badly then thought to myself “Oh shit, I sure hope they don’t hate all white people now.”

Or, in other words, even though pretty much every Columbine-type-school-kid-murderer is white, I’ve never developed a distrust for white, socially awkward high school kids.

A few do not represent the whole.

“Privilege is passed on through history.”

Whatever. I grew up POOR!

But then I thought about how, in the late 1940s, my grandmother was the first woman editor of the University of Washington’s newspaper. After she graduated, she and my grandpa bought and ran small newspapers in northern California. The family business they built employed my family members for 40+ years.

In the late 1940s, black people were not allowed to sit in the front of the bus.

How can I deny that my grandparents’ access to education and economic success did not materially affect me in a positive way, directly, through my father? I thought about the loans my parents were able to take with financial backing from my grandparents, and how that benefitted me. My life. My quality of life. The neighborhoods we lived in. The schools we attended. My cultural knowledge.

“Why don’t we have ‘White History Month?’”

Because White History Month is every month other than February, asshole.

Oh, shit indeed.

“The culture of power determines which version of history is told and retold.”

Prior to the Women’s Rights Movement, women were stuck in the home while men went to work and supported them. But then women were liberated and able to get jobs working outside the home.

Right?

WRONG. White, middle to upper class women were “stuck in the home.” Women of color have ALWAYS “worked out of the home.” In fact, the women of color were probably working in the homes of the white women about which our history is written.

So one of the most oft-repeated, trusted narratives about American history erases the history of women of color. It is dead fucking wrong. It isn’t even kind of right. They are erased. Non-existent. Unseen.

They are Chapter 10. They are a chapter that ends with “but then Martin Luther King, Jr., and all is well.”

They are Chapter 10. I am chapters 1 through forever, and every day I cash in on that fact, whether or not I support the systems making that happen for me.

I realized the reason I had never thought about race was because I was of the privileged one, because I didn’t have to, NOT BECAUSE RACIAL DISPARITY DIDN’T EXIST. I didn’t have to think about race because I was having a fundamentally different life experience than people of color. But I could ignore them, because of my privilege.

I was able to hang out in meltin-pot, “post-racial” land was because the structures of that society allowed (and encouraged) me to “not see race” while continually feeding me narratives about “equality,” “multiculturalism,” “color-blindness” and “ghetto urban lifestyles.”

I spent a lot of time in graduate school in the library, writing at a computer. Like, hours. Whole days. When I had to pee, I would ask the person sitting next to me to watch my stuff so I didn’t have to pack it all up and carry it down the hall to the bathroom. I did it a 100 times.

Once I looked over at the person next to me and my first thought was “Oh you can’t ask him. He’ll steal your stuff.

He was a young black man wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt.

I was sickened at myself. I was horrified at my response. There was absolutely nothing different about him than the 100 other people I didn’t hesitate to ask, except he was black.

I realized that not only do I benefit historically and presently, every day, from the color of skin, I have also internalized cultural narratives regarding blacks and whites that manifest whether or not I support them.

“Hey, would you mind watching my stuff for a minute?”

But what now?

Does it mean my grandmother’s accomplishments are less badass? Nope. Does it mean I do not “deserve” success? Nope. Does it mean that I am a bad person? Nope.

It means that we live in a highly racialized society rooted in a history of discrimination and that we have a long way to go. It means that I have had an advantage over people of color. Yes, always. Yes, no matter what. Because even if you’re poor and white you can join the culture of power by learning the walk and talk. But you can’t change your skin color.

From the day I was first introduced to this “other story,” I couldn’t get enough. Not because I’m some sort of saint or conspiracy theorist, but because I was curious. I was interested out of a sense of shared humanity. And I was fucking angry that I had been swindled. I wanted the truth. Or, I wanted a fuller picture. I wanted more sides.

That, my friends, is pathetic in its privilege.

I learned in graduate school what every person of color knows through life experience. I learned in graduate school that we weren’t “fixed” during the Civil Rights movement.

But when this information was presented to me I felt a sense of relief, because I think deep down I always knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I don’t understand the white rage I keep reading on the internet.

Just another dead thug.

He got what he deserved.

Run over the protestors. They’re making me late for work.

STOP PLAYING THE “RACE CARD.”

I don’t understand it. What’s at stake, people? What’s at stake in accepting that racism exists? Or even entertaining the thought? Are people really so stupid they can’t fathom that other people might be having a different experience than they are? Is it really that hard to comprehend that something can exist EVEN THOUGH YOU DON’T PERSONALLY SEE IT?

(Although you’ll see your privilege if you’re willing to examine your life honestly.)

Why the hell are people so unwilling to listen?

Let’s think about this for a moment. A whole community of people are saying this exists. Data shows racial disparities in economic, education, justice, and healthcare systems. Basically, ALL OVER THE PLACE. Unarmed black boys and men are killed without recourse. Repeatedly. The comment sections of these crimes are riddled with assholes shouting “Good. One less loser.”

But people still claim “Racism doesn’t exist.” But here’s the thing: The only way you can discount the words, lives, efforts and voices of hundreds of thousands of people is THROUGH THE RACISM YOU CLAIM DOESN’T EXIST.

You can only ignore them if they’re aren’t worth hearing.

You can only ignore them if they’re liars. If they’re just looking for a handout.

If they’re not human like you.

You can only ignore them by using the very narratives you claim aren’t happening.

And let’s be honest, we can only ignore them because it’s easy, because we’ll never have to walk a day in their shoes, and it’s just so much more pleasant to turn away, look away, focus back on our lives.

But the sand is getting skimpy and our heads are showing. At this point, if we’re not part of the solution we’re part of the problem.

I’m using my voice to talk to you. I’m using my voice to talk to my kids. But it isn’t enough. We’re looking for places to volunteer. I’m looking for actions I can take.

We’re at a crossroads. This cannot go on. We’re crushed under the weight of hatred, history, silence, violence, bullshit media and the insidious defense of systematic unequal distribution of resources, and at some point, none of us will be able to breathe.

It feels small and pathetic to be one person in this mess. I feel stupid and vulnerable and slightly insane to be writing this here, now. But fuck my feelings. Fuck feeling uncomfortable. Fuck the nonsense that keeps us quiet and content and cozy in our little post-racial dreamland.

They can’t breathe, and I’m breathing just fine.

And that is precisely the problem.

[irkdesu]

Every few years, I wake up at night, stare up at the ceiling, and say:

“I didn’t finish writing Mazopolitik.”

[irkdesu]

Me: Skype stop formatting things

Me: STOP TRYING TO HELP ME

Me: Like a horror movie

Me: Where the protag's phone can't make calls and they're stuck somewhere with a computer that won't switch away from Skype

Me: And they're trying to Skype for help but the sound and video in Skype don't work, only the text chat

Me: And then something crucial to communicate to the people coming would be something that triggered Skype's autocorrect so the detail was missed and she sees too late that they didn't see that detail bc Skype didn't output it

Me: That's a horror movie about Skype

Me: You're welcome, internet

[irkdesu]

Don’t know what OP has but we’ve had this lots of times, very good, better than Kraft dinner. Excellent with bacon or bacon substitute in.

sobs grossly 

the super target has my favorite brand of gluten free dairy free soy free frozen mac and cheese

i am so happy

all the other stores i’ve been going to only have the gluten free kind, not the everything else void mac and not cheese cheese

i don’t really know what’s in it after you take out gluten, dairy, and soy but i don’t care it’s fucking delicious and it doesn’t upset my tummy 

[irkdesu]

JFC.

From  How I Became a Famous Novelist by Steve Hely

[irkdesu]

I spent a lot of high school playing this game, not gonna lie. So I requested a gif of it for my Patreon reward. xD;

Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon S Kurukkurin, Super Famicom.

[irkdesu]

When designing a logo for diversity/social justice/community, consider NOT using a hand in it. No joined hands, no hands raised together, no hands holding up the logo. Just stop using hands in social justice logos for a couple months and see if you have any NEW ideas. No more hands.