this post is sponsored by, lifting weights are beginning to turn a real profit and I vogue whenever I see my own reflection now. I spent like an hour flexing and posing in front of a mirror tonight
the little bit you did about Standup and like Looking at the Assembled Mass of the Other and only then being able to see the filtered light of Truth through the dappled leaves of other lost souls, together, that was very good, and would be good if you dropped some lacan into it. Also, this is a banger. Certed.
im going to write down a list i think. i'm going to write a list of three things it is important that she say with her own mouth, then, when she says them, swallows the bitter pills of words, then i will decide that i have won. and then i will win. it's just me, after all.
Imagine if we didn't think truth had to bittersweet. If beauty didn't need to have a tragic element. If the sunset could be enjoyed without the imminent fear of darkness or the awareness of another day passed.
If we didn't think someone being "honest" was someone confessing all their faults to the audience and begging for forgiveness (or acceptance).
If we could live just as proudly with our wins as with "the flaws that makes us relatable".
this post is sponsored by, lifting weights are beginning to turn a real profit and I vogue whenever I see my own reflection now. I spent like an hour flexing and posing in front of a mirror tonight
You are right. Now I can’t unsee it.
this is what makes the cadre violent subversive rebels from Twitter’s perspective
Thank you.
the little bit you did about Standup and like Looking at the Assembled Mass of the Other and only then being able to see the filtered light of Truth through the dappled leaves of other lost souls, together, that was very good, and would be good if you dropped some lacan into it. Also, this is a banger. Certed.
im going to write down a list i think. i'm going to write a list of three things it is important that she say with her own mouth, then, when she says them, swallows the bitter pills of words, then i will decide that i have won. and then i will win. it's just me, after all.
Imagine if we didn't think truth had to bittersweet. If beauty didn't need to have a tragic element. If the sunset could be enjoyed without the imminent fear of darkness or the awareness of another day passed.
If we didn't think someone being "honest" was someone confessing all their faults to the audience and begging for forgiveness (or acceptance).
If we could live just as proudly with our wins as with "the flaws that makes us relatable".
That'd be pretty cool.