You know we only ever really "learn" how to bathe in our youth as it is taught to us by our parents and from then on most people kinda just bathe the same way right. And like barring actively deciding to do it the only way most people change their bathing habits is if they bathe with a loved one and get convinced to do somethi g different in the bath bc its cleaner/faster/whatever bc of them. Ok heres the thesis statement. The lack of communal bathing in society is holding us back from discovering The Ultimate Bathing
Working on my novel and couldnāt figure out why it felt so empty. I didnāt have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didnāt prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I ādidnāt need itā.
Yāall, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didnāt hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.
Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I donāt want to just consume the plot and I donāt want to just create the plot either.
I think a lot of what people have missed about the Jordan protests right now is that there are many Palestinians in Jordan (Jordan is home to the largest Palestinian refugee population in the world) - a lot of the protesters youāre seeing out on the streets arenāt just Jordanian but Palestinian refugees watching what has been happening in their original homeland and to their families.
while it might seem the case that being an independent artist frees you of having a boss you hate, this always ignores the fact that anyone doing art becomes intimately aware of how much room there is in your hollowed out skeleton to hate payment processors
āNobodyās going to want to sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours to get from New York City to LA.ā
Me. I will sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours. Iāll sit on it for days. Iāll write and read and nap and eat and then do it all over again. Iāll stare out the windows and see America from ground level and not have to drive. Iāll see the Rockies and the deserts and cornfields and the Mississippi River and your house and yours and yours too. Iāll make up stories in my head about the small towns I see as we go along. Iāll see the states Iāve yet to see because driving or flying there is a fucking slog and expensive to boot. Iāll enjoy the ride as much as the destination. And then Iāll do it all over again to come the fuck home.