antithetical0dream0girl
Just Queer Analysis of Taylor Swift’s music and simping for Karlie Kloss
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Latest Posts by antithetical0dream0girl
I saw this tweet earlier today saying Karlie is now being shown under the cast of Miss Americana with (voice) beside her name. Note: shes the only one that says (voice). And considering that Karlie’s voice in CIWYW is THE Kaylor lore for the documentary… 👀
So, I checked myself and sure enough, she is!
I also checked the FAQ’s to see if just anyone (aka fans) can change or add someone and that doesn’t seem to be the case, especially with how widely used IMDb is in the industry.
(For some personal context, I’m a massive Kate McKinnon fan, so I saw the Ghostbusters 2016 release and the reactions from the dude bros in real time. Not one person changed anything there. But they did brigade the scoring with 1 star reviews before the movie even came out.)
Now, here’s something even more interesting. I copied the full cast IMDb link into the Wayback Machine website and the last capture was June 16th of this year. Karlie is not listed there.
Which means this was added some time between then and now… and guess what happened in the middle of that? Oh, yeah. Karlie showing up to the eras tour. 🤭
Here’s some videos that show why we 100% believe it’s Karlie’s voice:
4° of Agust 2023 this video is now private in Vogue YouTube channel. But, this artifact will not be erase. We will always remember, we were there...
picture me fingers deep in your ex wife or whatever it was that taylor swift said
i dont know how people can still stan taylor swift after she ate that sheet metal and spat the shrapnel at that newborn
100% she is William Bowery
taylor every night when she sits down at the piano: there will be no explanation and there will be no reputation either
Klossy “What’s Your Dating Symbol?” 2017
x
Vogue Best Best Friend Contest 2014
Taylor Swift's Gayest MySpace Posts
I was literally shocked to hear that some Gaylors hadn't seen these! Here are Taylor's gayest high school MySpace posts, mostly targeted at her friend Kelsey (dammmnnn) Morris, and a cheerleader 2 grades ahead of her at Hendersonville High School, Lacey J. (and Lacey's boyfriend from BHS, Taylor J.).
September 3, 2005
“I am obsessed with you.
If you look out your window and down the street about 200 yards, you may see a big white van parked on the street. I am inside the van with a telescope and computer. Just trying to catch a glimpse of kelsey dammmnnn morris.
haha. end of story.”
September 6, 2005
“LACEY LACEY LACEY
I’m in love with you.
There’s just no other way around it.
hehe”
September 10, 2005
“Pretty girl.
I could walk twenty feet and knock on your door and ask you how you’ve been…
But I think I’ll just sit here and type it.
Tell me how you’ve been, child.
taylor”
September 11, 2005
I have the same name as your boyfriend.
Therefore I am better than everyone and you should like me more.
taylor”
September 18, 2005
“Kelsey’s awesome.
And got best smile.
And should have gotten best everything else.
Hahah
iloveyou”
October 12, 2005
“Everybody watch Kelsey’s scrolling pictures of her friends until you get to the one of shelby.
Her boobs look AMAZING.
hahahahahahaha”
November 6, 2005
“If you were a guy I’d probably date you.
Just a friendly reminder.
<3”
December 28, 2005
“WOW I LOVE YOUR PICTURES
(i haven’t been on here in a while and technology alone fascinates me)
Hey I love you and now I know exactly where your house is, and also that Grant plays guitar? Yes, he does.
Why?
Because he’s Grant Motherfucking Wood. That’s why.
We’re hanging out New Years and I’m driving the Hummer and it will be amazing.
-T-
PS: Hi, Kelsey’s mom!”
(SHE DROVE A HUMMER?? GIRLIE...)
December 29, 2005
“Lil’ Kels.
hahahahhaha
I looove love love your new pictures. You are pretty.
You’re right.. you better watch out.
Because I do what I want.
-T-”
January 8, 2006
“My name is Taylor, I am not clingy, I do not want a boyfriend.
I do not show signs of wanting a boyfriend.
I do not make hints leading on to the fact that I may want a boyfriend.
So how, tell me, on EARTH is it possible for someone to confuse this issue and IGNORE me because:
they don’t want a girlfriend.
(%(*..)%((IOJENTI..OWI$...)WO
-T-”
April 23, 2006
[3 sophomore year prom pictures with Kelsey Morris]
“(this is you quite obviously staring at my boobs)”
April 24, 2006
“Lyrics we live by:
And it hurts to want everything
and nothing at the same time
I want what’s your and i
want what’s mine
I want YOU, but I’m not
giving in this time.
haha
i love you
you’re really pretty.
-T-”
April 30, 2006
“Kelsey.
I love you and I’m sorry about all the “distance”.
Distance = stupid and unnecessary.
Dude. The truth is, i miss you. Starbucks tomorrow?”
Bonus:
“I read your complaining comment about how your not on abigails top 8. well, how could you be? I’M THERE. TAKING YOUR SPOT HAHAHAHAHA. (evil laugh, you know the drill). Well, anyway, listen my queer fellow. I thinketh we shall hangeth out sometime soon, eh? yes, i do believe i am growing fond of this idea. drive over in your sex van and come pick me up. farewell knave."
Click here for all non-Gaylor MySpace posts from that era
Realistically I could never get rid of tumblr because it gives me the illusion of a community of strange young women all around my same age, all slowly figuring out how to live too
The way she’s once again including herself in the lgbtq community. She’s literally a friend of dorothy (x)
Soooo, I’m sure a lot of us have heard You’re Losing Me by now, if not here is a link…
So, like a lot of us here on gaylor tumblr, I have been quite invested in deciding 🎃 anon’s messages. Well, after I heard You’re Losing Me, I had a weird feeling, so I went back to look at the massages. The tagline in the song in Stop, You’re losing me / Stop, You’re losing me / Stop, You’re losing me.
She repeats it three times.
Stop stop stop.
A call back to 🎃 anon’s first message?
Here it is if you want to read over it
I thought of the connection between Stop stop stop, but also the other words that are repeated three times throughout the 11 messages e.g blow, blow, blow (7th message) and human, human, human (10th message).
Can I (the fandom as a whole) ask you (Taylor) a question (what the fuck is going on)?
Taylor singing Dress to Karlie
Lover's second surprise song
"This is the rainiest rain show that ever rain showed, ever, ever, ever. Oh my god. We have every single person on the stage—is this going to work? It’ll be fine. I hope it works. It’ll be great.—all of my fellow, like, dancers and everybody else on the stage is just sort of like, ‘Oh my god,’ no one ever expects you’re going to basically perform like in a shower. It’s really very exciting. Yeah. Are you having a nice time too? So you know, you’re standing in the pouring rain with people, and you just kind of feel like this romantic sense of camaraderie. I was thinking about what song to play with you tonight and I was thinking, there’s this song from Midnights that I love so much, and I haven’t played it on this tour, or ever, so I figured, that could be fun to play with you. And I just—oh my gosh, this is insane—I kind of just feel like telling you, I don’t know, I have just never been this happy in my life, in all aspects of my life, ever before. And I just want to thank you for being a part of that. Like, you know, I don’t know, it’s not just the tour, it’s like. I don’t know, I just sort of feel like my life finally feels like it makes sense. And so I thought I’d play this song, which brings me a lot of happy memories."
— Taylor before playing Question...? (guitar) in Foxborough, MA on May 20th
Holy shit. The implications of her playing a song about her Invisible love (they just see right through me vs. they see right through me, i see right through me) right after playing a song about the time she made out with a woman in public & yet people still discourse about her being straight. She’s crazy for that.
Just very interesting that she decides to play question and invisible…. the implications indeed
Submission:
Dear 🎃 ,
I was walking the beach tonight and almost tripped over an old wine bottle. I picked it up and examined it, noticing it had been worn down in the waves. “How far had it traveled?” And then it caught my eye - a piece of parchment tucked inside. My heart started pounding with excitement at the discovery! I gingerly removed the cork you’d carefully encased in wax protecting your message. Slowly, patiently, I coaxed the parchment from the bottle. My hands shook as I read your letter. As I scanned each word you wrote, I could feel the empathy and grief filling me from within until it all burst from my eyes. The salt from my tears mixing with the salt of the ocean. I rushed home over the dune with the bottle and message in hand. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears as I tried to slow my thoughts. Clamoring toward my study, I heard my wife calling out from the kitchen, “Is everything ok, dear?!” I flung open my writing desk, pulling out a leaf of parchment. My pen flew across the page - flowing, sloping, swooping - Trying to expel the words I thought you needed. I trusted the pen. I hope it was true. I am returning this message to your bottle with my wax and seal. I hope this finds you in return, but I have a feeling that it will. Sometimes we women just know things...
(Enclosed Message)
Imagine This. A group of people have known your truth for as far back as you started sharing it. They have always been here, and they always will. They often quietly send good energy your way with intentions for peace and protection. For them, you aren’t an anti-hero. Or a selfish asshole…. Or any other negative internal self-talk track that might exist. Imagine you are just seen, supported, and ENOUGH. When you breathe in, imagine taking in all the love and support you need to move forward on whatever path you choose. As you exhale, imagine you breathe out all of the fears of faceless former fans in public outrage. Imagine believing that the universe always takes care of you, and when plans fall apart, it opens opportunities for your growth.
May you, Karlie, and your family find strength together as you prepare to turn the page on this chapter.
Warmly,
A lucky beachcomber
🎃 Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye for now. 🎃
something i have noticed about pumpkin anon...taylor was just seen in purple, black, and orange. those are halloween colors...the orange nails especially stick out to me. she's had the same nail color since the start of tour...why change it now to such a specific color? is it a nod to pumpkin anon?
😯
🎃 Imagine this. It is 3 am and Halloween is over. Costumes have been taken off and packed away in boxes, perhaps to be taken out again next year if they haven't been outgrown. Empty candy bowls sit on entryway tables. Toilet paper hangs strung across wilted lawns and barren tree branches. Sheep have removed their wolf’s clothing with relief. Masqueraders with masks removed, mermaids who have traded tails for sweatpants. A woman walks down the center of an empty suburban street, shaking from the cold. She peers around with wilde, curious eyes as if she's seeing the world for the first time. She is drenched in salt water, as if she had just crawled from the ocean. She wears an odd combination of tattered clothing - remnants of a fantastical gown and a comfortable sweatshirt - that doesn't quite make sense. There is something very odd about her. Nevertheless, she simply walks down the street. Finally, she reaches a house that looks like all the others. But it is not like the others. Because it is hers. There are figures in the window, anxiously awaiting her return home. With a warm smile cracking the shell-shocked exterior of her face, she ascends the porch stairs. There is a Jack-O-Lantern perched by the front door. There is a tealight candle at its center, the dancing glow casting shadows from deep within the carved, jagged-toothed smile. And as she watches, the flame🕯️ finally🕯️flickers🌬️OUT 🎃
From 5 holes in the fence I bring you the sequel 13 holes in the bench
Dear 🎃 - can you give us a hint if Karlie is still part of Taylor's story?
I think their messages about two princesses 👸 👸 makes that pretty clear.
🎃 Imagine this. You wander through the woods. Deep in this Enchanted Forest, your delicate fairy wings are crippled and weak. You haven’t come this way in a long time. You’re not sure you’ll be able to find it. You trip over overgrown roots and foliage that looks suspiciously like clawing hands in the dying light. A howl sounds in the distance, pushing you closer to your destination. Watchful eyes in the birch bark feel more leering than protective. Your ripped and muddied gown is caked in dandelion fuzz. You limp over uneven ground, smiling at the pain of the shark bite with each excruciating step - replaying the satisfying splash as you finally chose her over the world. As you grabbed the enemy and dove into the infested waters. You squint to make sense of your surroundings through the fog, cherry red eyes glowing in the bushes. Just before you nearly give up, you see it ahead. The wooden door standing sovereign in the middle of the forest. Deeply cut claw marks mar its surface. Glittering flecks of what could be light filter through the crack beneath it. The best and worst part of it all - the lock lies broken, scorched, down on the ground. To put it plainly, your limits are now your own courage. Nothing more, and nothing less. All your life you have been afraid. Afraid of ghosts, shadows and raindrops on tin roofs. It is a fear that has paralyzed you. And yet, now, in the face of something actually worthy of your fear, you find peace and courage. You step forward. You place your hand on the doorknob, the metal cold against your fiery skin. Insecurity and hope pound in your ears in tune with your heart beat. Never in your wildest dreams did you actually believe you would arrive here. “Human, human, human.” The darkest parts of your mind chant. It burns like hot coals. But the longer you stand there, hand on the doorknob, the softer the voice becomes. Not softer in volume - if anything, the voice is louder now - but softer in tone. Who doesn’t love a good key change? “Human, human, human.” It no longer sounds like the weakness it used to. It no longer sounds like a flaw. Your heart beats red and hot and furious in your chest. Isn’t that a magnificent thing! A knock sounds on the door from the other side. You smile at the signal as your feet squash the forest carpet of clovers and daisies. With the deepest exhale of your life so far, you slowly twist the handle. 🎃
🎃 Imagine this. You are sitting on a beach, cold and windswept. The sea is dark and angry before you. The sun sets in muted colors. You finish scrawling on the parchment. Your pen dries up as you reach the end of a story in 11 parts. None of it makes sense anyway. You're sick of having to dilute everything so far beyond recognition. But a story told through metaphor is still a story told. Even the great poet Sappho is survived by stilted fragments and mistranslated lyrics. Maybe that is the beautiful curse people like us must all share. Perhaps loving someone the world doesn't approve of forces you to be clever. You scan your writing once over, brow furrowed. All you can do is hope that it is enough. Of course it’s not. It never could be. You know this. And yet you keep trying, trying, trying. Your image is ten times bigger than you are. You have spent your life living in your own shadow. Stealing your own thunder. Trying and failing, relentlessly, to fill your own shoes. You roll the parchment, slipping it into an empty wine bottle. You may have told the story inside out and backwards, and it may well sink to the bottom of the sea or fall on deaf ears. It may wash up on a sunny beach in Florida, or a rocky shore in the northwest. Either way, someone somewhere will know about that recipe card. And the warm safety you cherish within your fence. And the heist that stole more from you than you ever planned on stealing from the museum. And most importantly, they will know about the human heart. The flawed, scarred, angry, grateful, nonsensical heart. The one that hides deep inside glittering ballgowns. The one that questions everything, but mostly it questions if the world it has grimaced through so many smiles for would love it for what it truly is. You drop the message in a bottle into the riptide. You fight every urge to fish it out before it drifts too far. You watch it until the waves have swept it far, far away. And now it is just a matter of time. The dripping of candle wax. The ticking of a clock. 🎃
Is HEEL maybe in there to refer to Matty?
Here are several messages in my inbox with different 🎃 theories. Some were sent after only a message or two. We are up to 8 messages now:
W MAGAZINE coming strong with 1989 album era hints... 🙏
she saw the Twitter giving rep/lover songs to dianna and said "i'm gonna start claiming 1989 too"... 😏
Like by Karlie kloss 🙃
Something gonna happen soon 👀
🎃 Imagine this. You’re a selfish asshole. So much of your fear is your own. You wince at your cowardice like it is a gaping wound. You so often find yourself unable to meet your own eyes. You scramble into shadows like a black cat. Scared, even, of being scared. This is a moment where things shift. Your ship is docked too far out to sea. You’d swim to it, but the waters are infested with sharks. Your life raft is long deflated. Your team is cornered on the dock, surrounded by bad guys and bystanders. Each time they step forward, your crew is shuffled back, crashing waves and gnashing jaws behind you. You glare at the enemy protectively, blocking your beloved crew from view. The enemy twists a fluffy dandelion in their fingers, already a few florets taking off in the breeze. You whimper as you watch them go, and with a sneer of amusement the enemy offers you a deal. “If you jump into the water, we won’t lay a finger on anyone else. We won’t even take the rubies.” You step forward without hesitation, accepting the deal. The enemy just laughs. “Not YOU. Her.” Your lover steps out in front of you, ready to face the music. Ready to pay for your crimes. She was always the one who was ready. You were the one who was scared. The one who overstayed your welcome in this coastal town. The one who got everyone into this mess. And now the enemy who has chased you ‘round the seas finally has you cornered. And all they want is one final sacrifice. One final act of courage from the woman who has already displayed more than enough integrity. You kiss her goodbye. And step forward. “TAKE ME INSTEAD.” You assert. Not an offer. A demand. Lightning crackles in the sky, reflecting your emotions exactly. Your lover grabs your hand, yanking you back. Refusing to let you go. Not even to save herself. Not even to save the precious little gemstones nestled deep in her pocket. Just you. You tug against her grasp, mind made up. You are a selfish asshole, except for maybe just this once. To insure the safety of those you love, you would dive off the dock willingly. Ten times over and over. You would relish in the crunch of your bones between great white teeth. You have always craved destruction. Scrawled devil horns on photos of yourself. This is different. It has to be. The enemy accepts your deal, glee filling their eyes as if this is what they wanted all along. Perhaps it is. You are a coward, but you are not a fool. You make mistakes, but never the same one twice. You are not a hero. You never have been, and you never will be. You're a selfish asshole. But there are some people in this world worth breaking character for. And so in one swift motion, you replace the solid boards beneath your feet with rushing deep blue water. 🎃
🎃 Imagine this. You are walking through your yard. It's one of your favorite places, all sprawling garden rows and vibrant green grass. There are herbs for cooking and spell casting. There are daisies - so many daisies - in every shade of your rainbow. Up ahead you spot a small cropping of weeds, and set your foot on each stepping stone of the path that leads right to them. The house is a little farther now, but you are still within the confines of your tall and impenetrable fence. Nothing comes through that fence. Not now and not ever. Within it you are safe. Your lover and your fresh baked buns are safe. (The buns, of course, are in the oven turning golden as you speak. It's an old family recipe, jotted lovingly on a recipe card.) You reach the weeds and pluck a dandelion. Caught up in a moment of buoyant childlike whimsy, you make a wish and blow, blow, blow. Hundreds of featherly florets scatter. You laugh. You watch as they ride the breeze, one floret in particular. It drifts and dances like all the others, but as the wind changes direction it swoops over the fence. You lose sight of it, and send a silent apology to whoever ends up with a cropping of dandelions in their yard. Did you know that dandelions don't need to be purposefully planted all at once? All it takes is for one small seed to catch on the breeze, and by then it has spread irreversibly. You'd never know where the initial seed came from, because it has started so small and floated so far. You swallow, staring at the fence. It was you who blew the dandelion in the first place. It was you who ventured too closely to the edge of the garden. It was chance and weather that landed it where it did. You breathe in, and deep and out, expelling the growing anxiety from your body. You turn back to the house. You have those homemade buns to tend to, after all. But as you reach the door you can't help but cast a furtive glance over your shoulder, to the spot where that dandelion floret disappeared. You can never blame someone for the dandelions that sprout in your grass. It’s untraceable and irrelevant. They all come from the same place anyway: a private moment performed too near the property line. Of course the recipient would pluck the weeds so unwittingly planted. Of course they, too, would blow, blow, blow and spread the florets far and wide. Once you blow a dandelion, you never get it back. It isn’t yours anymore. 🎃
Original 🎃 message
Second 🎃 message
Third 🎃 message
Fourth 🎃 message
Fifth 🎃 message
Sixth 🎃 message