Anyway, I am apparently awake at 6:45 AM on a Saturday, so let me sneak out of the bedroom and take advantage of this time while the boy and the dog are asleep to do some writing. 😎
It’s Good Friday, and there is a woman panhandling outside of this church in Greenwich Village alternating asking for spare change with saying, “The Romans hated Jesus, you guys,” and I’ve never seen anyone offering seasonally appropriate history lessons in exchange for change before.
This is the most fucking disgusting rape trial I’ve followed in a long time. More than anything, I wish the protestors weren’t silently holding a vigil, but were rioting. I want to see more burning and sacking when this shit happens. I want to see people destroy property. Since they treat women’s bodies like property, let them see how they feel when we take their shit and fuck it up without consent.
As some of you know, I have Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. My insurance will not cover my Hormone Replacement Therapy costs because of the increased risk caused by it -unless- I get a pacemaker. I cannot afford a pacemaker, even with insurance, thanks to American healthcare prices.
I'm currently working a job doing 12-hour security shifts, but I would like any amount of help I can get. Thank you
I am so freakin’ excited for the season premiere that we’re six days out and I feel like I’m counting the minutes.
Which scares me, because the last show I was this hype about was Penny Dreadful, which certainly ended in a way that lived up to the second word of its name.
"''The Dis/Appeared' (2018) is an experimental video essay that examines the totalizing imposition of colonial perception in contemporary Palestine. The project theorizes the Israeli state’s establishment of perceptual regimes that confine the colonized to the liminal thresholds of view, never allowing Palestinians to entirely appear or disappear but instead perpetually rendering them dis/appeared..."
And I’m not trying to be like, “Oh, I’m so hot.” Ask any woman who lives in a big city under the age of, oh, I don’t know, 60? 70? And it happens to her, too.
He’s super rattled by it, though, and feels like he has to change his whole commute to avoid her and I’m like, “Just tell her you’re in a relationship with someone. It works 90% of the time, and when it doesn’t, then you have leeway to be harsh.”
My partner had a woman he had never spoken to but who he had seen on the subway before slip him her number on a piece of paper when he was exiting the train this morning. He spent all day feeling weird and guilty, worrying about how he was going to tell me.
Someone gives me their number or asks me for mine like 5 times a day and I get officially asked out ~once a week to the point where I don’t even mention it unless it gets really weird.