Age Of Innocence By Toskovat’

a good way to inspire yourself to do more is to see yourself as the wacky sitcom B plot character in your friends lives, "wouldnt it be funny to tell the friends in my phone about it." has gotten me to do anything from going to a festival (excelent) to wild camping (it went badly) (coastguard called) to trying to get the train to stonehenge (stonehenge costs money so i ended up just getting lunch in sailsbury, it was okay.) i bought a bicycle today and 20% of my reasoning was "itd be funny to surprise my roommate by coming home with a whole bike." . life is for living. and baby i live for the bit.

Hate trans male stereotypes with all my heart, but very much love the distinct subset of us who are big into Fight Club. Because hell yeah. The Narrator is Literally Me Bro. In my head Fight Club is a story about dysphoria, the repressed masculinity and anger that comes with it, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. It's accidental trans cinema. Also I like men.

victor frankenstein's post-partum depression was disastrous

Neil Banging Out the Tunes (2023)

Air-dry clay over foil and wire armature, EVA foam, acrylic paint, paint marker

Centipede blues

Wednesday

    That night something crawled between my ribs and whispered to my heart until the blood in my veins was sullied with secrets.

Now when I scrape my knees the wounds never clot; they flow and seek and hunger.

To whom do I owe the bitter symbols etched upon my skin?

To whom do I owe the soil caked beneath my fingernails?

To whom do I owe the salt always layered on my teeth?

    The wind howls and it howls and I can’t help but wonder if it’s finally come for me.

Would things be so bad if it did?

    Point anywhere on the map and that’s where I am, I’m only solid here.

I could disappear like a magic trick if I truly and fully believed, but as with most things, even minute levels of doubt ground me to reality.

    If I decided to never sleep again I would spend my nights thinking of the sea and of colors and of all the music that will only be born long after I am buried.

Thinking of snake skins and the smell of Autumn and the feel of bone-deep hunger.

How easy it would be; to wake up one day for nothing to ever be the same again.

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in my sickly victorian boy thing era. ive sported a deathly pallor for three days now and must be taken to see a doctor tomorrow.

Had a dream last night that i was a knight and this bigger scarier knight had me on the ground and right before he swung his sword at my neck he said smth like "i mourn the loss of life for the tree who will become your coffin" which shouldnt have turned me on like it did but alas