Latest Posts by sunshine-units - Page 10

fully sober in the club googling frankenstein 1818 full text

victor frankenstein's post-partum depression was disastrous

Finished a new piece. I think it speaks to my state of mind. Notice the fine details. :)

Me, watching my kitten hold still for a suspiciously long time: Ollie, are you peeing on my floor?

Ollie: Not

Me: Are you sure?

Ollie, grunting through time and space to push out a chocolate mcmuffin wider than he is tall: Not

self-love/self-hate

its here! :)

my love letter to ada rook and devi mccallion in the form of an upcycled jean jacket <3

all patches were made by me, except for the embroidered patch of the hell is real sign. all buttons and pins are not made by me, but were purchased from various sources online :-)

heres some closeups of the front:

and of the back and sleeves :-)

this is my magnum opus and i love it so much i get scared to wear it out and expose it to the elements lol

my beautiful wife with every disease who crashed my computer and has shaved years off my life upon becoming my muse <3

bonus bald version becous his hair always covers the cool stitches n stuff

compilation of this type of post

written dec 16 2023. ID in alt description

To anyone wondering if it's worth it to tear down fascist posters or whatever. I spent a few months last year engaged in silent battle with another student at my school who was putting anti trans stickers up everywhere. I had it down to a system where every night I would walk the five block radius they went up in, and tear down all the ones I could reach, and use a stick to put duct tape over the others. Like, within hours of the stickers going up, I would have already purged the whole zone. I knew the basic schedule of whoever put them up based on when and where the stickers appeared. I probably could have found them in person if I'd wanted to. And I told all my classmates and friends what the stickers looked like and got them to rip them down too. And after a few months of this, the stickers slowed, and then stopped forever.

My point is, a lot of this fashy or right wing stuff is one local weirdo. And if you pay attention, and do a little light organizing with your friends, you can basically make their efforts into a giant sisyphisean exercise in misery. You control your streets!

Centipede blues

Hmmmm hm. Okay. Worldbuilding/story idea.

One million years after humanity disappears, octopi and ravens have independently developed sapience. And one day an octopus child and an elder raven meet at the edge of the ocean.

Where is your mother and father? asks the raven. I have no mother or father, says the octopus, blushing pale. All octopi are children. Once we’re grown, we will mate and we will die. It is the first and the last thing our mothers tell us.

But that’s horrible, says the raven. It’s not all bad, says the octopus. We play, we hunt, we make games for ourselves in the deep. Yes, but who remembers your songs? the raven says. Who passes down your stories?

What is a story? the octopus asks.

And the raven thinks about this question. And finally it says: A story is how you remember things in the past. It is how you know where you come from, and what happened before you were born. A story can be a warning, or it can be advice, or it can be a silly joke told to make you feel good. Someone remembers the story and tells it to the next generation, who remember the story and tells it to the generation after them.

And the octopus thinks about this answer. And finally it says: Can you tell me a story?

And the raven tells the octopus a story. And it’s a good story. And the next day the octopus returns and asks for another. The next day it brings its octopus friends, and the raven brings its raven friends, and many stories are shared on the edge of the ocean.

Months later, the octopus returns to the raven. I am grown, it says. I am returning to the sea to find a mate and lay my brood. I will not be coming back. I’m sorry.

I will miss your company, says the raven.

I have one thing to ask you, says the octopus. In time my children will come to the edge of the ocean. I would like you to tell them a story I have made. And when they have stories of their own, I would like your children to remember them and pass them down to my children’s children.

Of course, says the raven. What is your story about?

And the octopus thinks, and says: It is about an octopus child and an elder raven who meet at the edge of the ocean.

And this story has been passed down to this day.

I had a red dot on the palm of my hand for over a year, near the left-hand fate line. I wondered for a while if I gave myself a tattoo of error when my grader's pen met an open wound without my notice. I thought cancer, then shrugged it off until the dot turned black, and sick, I poked at it with tweezers.

When I was twelve or so, I fell off my bike. After an agonizing hour of first aid, everyone was sure all the gravel was gone but me.

Vindication. The last piece of my childhood driveway worked its way up, cell by cell, and made its way to the surface.

Misogyny.

a bg version of the peaceful as hell album cover i did that i want to get as a tattoo

sometimes i feel like i am not a very good poet or artist and i ought to be more realistic and not embarrass myself by sharing my work. then i remind myself that its okay to not be perfect, or to not be as skilled as my role models, or to be learning. because everyone is practicing and learning and improving all the time. and it makes me feel a lot better about myself :-)

on occasion ill feel discouraged by needing to work to form a following and having very few notes on my work then i remember that even 5 notes is 5 different ways my art has been seen and interacted with and thats so mind boggling and beautiful!!

"the world isn't kind" ok??? Much more importantly are you?????

an accident by erin m. riley, 2020, wool & cotton, 82 × 100 inches

There’s a bunch of right-wing people posting memes about “”DOGE”” making the government more efficient by removing funding from “”dumb bug researchers”” and I am now realizing how little the average person knows about entomology and its importance

Excuse me while I get sad .

the implications of this poem by Maggie Smith from her book Good Bones, astonishing

EROS, ARROWS Shinji Moon 

slaughterhouse mouth, your throat-cutters tongue; as the sky let down its snow-filled skirts our feathers shifted south, pale coats hung,  the radiator shifting,              shuck                                                      suck                                                               shuck. 

oh moan your hands off; take my mouth off;  your teeth are geese; my teeth are take-offs;  with your inside voice, my inside hands, I ask:          baby, let me rearrange                   your bones off. 

coworker got me a magnetic poetry kit so we’re writing little poems on the filing cabinets at work

Fig. 1

my god, this poem brought me to tears.. very well written.

i wrote a twin cinema poem about two gay soldiers in wwi

context: the two sides, read separately, are the two soldiers thinking about their futures with each other. when read together, it's a reflection of their final thoughts when they die together struck by bullets <3