country boys wear the tightest pair of blue jeans you’ve ever seen and unbutton their flannel to the nipple like.. who at this rodeo needs to know you’re a slut. the clown?
Big fuckin apologies for anyone who knew me before I sat down and did any sort of inner work and healing.
I’m certain I ruined countless friendships by expecting people to tiptoe around things I never communicated…
Past me was literally like “I’m going to get really mad at you and be passive aggressive and vague about shit.”
And honestly, that was really disgusting of me to do to a lot of people.
There are people I want to reach out to and make amends that I can’t anymore because of that.
There is a part of me that wants to shove off the accountability of my actions and blame it on how I was being treated by those around me or the environment I was in. But, no, I literally made the choice to be shitty and ugly to people, and I am paying for it.
It isn’t something I can change.
Would it give me closure to hear that people forgive me and want to be friends again? Yeah, it would. I can’t really expect that from people I’ve hurt tho, no matter how much I want the friendship back, ultimately it’s up to them.
Going through super old tumblr posts and interactions when I was still super active online was a nice little trip of remembrance. Heartwarming, for sure. But also very painful to see how I spoke to people.
My most free market opinion is that all regulations on food trucks and cottage food industries besides standard safety and labor stuff are unjustifiable. Big Restaurant uses the law to wipe out all small businesses that fill in the gaps in their market and they hate that immigrants sharing a truck can easily outcompete them every single time. One Taco Truck Per Corner and I am not kidding
This is me with zoning regulations & food vendors. Every single townhouse in an American city should have a babushka selling out of her front door pierogis that she makes in small batches on Wednesday mornings with three tables of seating surrounded by orthodox lawn gnomes that gets lines around the block, or a retired librarian running a weekend cafe out of his living room that serves everything swimming in cardamom with midcentury art coffee table books at every seat that anyone who collects vinyl in the area knows is the hot first date spot.
Every day you visit a block of residential homes and not a single one is selling donuts you have strayed further from God's light.
I just wanna buy ribs from the old black man in my street that smokes weed and listens to avant garde jazz
This is literally the American Dream
Eating 2$ street tacos on a plastic table in the parking lot of a liquor store is the only thing that makes Los Angeles even vaguely hospitable to human life.




This art of the Dreemurr siblings was from the intro of a cancelled Underswap project.
THEY/THEM for Chara (or They/It, for the one person that knows Chara’s pronouns)
spamton's clock
her robotic, glacial voice; the blood; the gasps from the crowd; the way her mic hits the ground on beat with the song; its performance at its peak
iconic
she gave unhinged women our rights
i watch this video exactly once a month and it gives me full body asmr
This was fighting for gay rights
We will forever stan
never forget her commentary on this performance:
“The methodology behind what I’ve done is that, when they wanted me to
be sexy, or they wanted me to be pop, I always fuckin’ put some absurd
spin on it that made me feel like I was still in control. So
you know what? If I’m gonna be sexy on the VMAs, and sing about the
paparazzi, I’m going to do it while I’m bleeding to death and reminding
you of what fame did to Marilyn Monroe, the original Norma Jean, and
what it did to Anna Nicole Smith, and what it did to…
Yeah. You know who.”


#MikuAllWeeku Day 1: The Thing (1982)























