scandalinthemaking

[scandalinthemaking]

the beginning

[scandalinthemaking]

Life advice from Killer Mike. (image via beardedlyons1987)

[scandalinthemaking]

[scandalinthemaking]

[scandalinthemaking]

What was I expecting?

[scandalinthemaking]

dayum

[scandalinthemaking]

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)

[scandalinthemaking]

Sums up the emptiness, The blind desire for comfort, To not feel like a few stray marks on an infinitely blank piece of paper

[scandalinthemaking]

Didn't reblog because it has the perfect number of notes

[scandalinthemaking]

Visiting family in Queens

Mom: get the car from the parking lot to save your dad the walk Me: ehhhhhh Mom: do it Me: ok 20 minutes later with the car out front Dad: who told you to drive Me: mommy Dad: then drive her to queens ~walks back home~ I know where I inherited the bitchiness from

[scandalinthemaking]

~*~*~

After being okay with pretty much anything for so long, I've realized that I'm not actually as passively accepting as I thought. There are things I do not like, people I do not fuck with. By letting them corrupt my universe with their bullshit, I'm just contaminating myself with fufu lame fugazzzy vibes. Of course I had to learn about that with time, but I'm getting better at drawing the lines where I want them.

[scandalinthemaking]

Neon Genesis Evangelion just became an acid trip I appreciate the fact that something as simple as a story can be this intense.

[scandalinthemaking]

[scandalinthemaking]

How to kill someone: fill them with passion and then quickly leave.

Mandeq Ahmed, “detonate” (via verbautezukunft)

[scandalinthemaking]

Salvador Dalí - The Head of Medusa (1962)

[scandalinthemaking]

Homeless lady ranting about her grandmothers fried chicken. She smells like shit. She keeps twitching. All I wanna do is give her a hug. How the fuck does she survive this cold every night, I see her sleeping on the same fucking corner. It's a cold world go give someone a hug or like a bit of food or something. Share some warmth.

[scandalinthemaking]