i said what i said
What do you mean killing isn't an act of devotion
they call it committing murder because it's a commitment. it's a more serious commitment than marriage
my love language is touch but i have a heavy accent
hyenas are so ugly i love them
⚡find my art on instagram, twitter, twitch, inprnt: @jakeromanoart)
Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.
Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.
Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.
You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.
As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.
Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.
This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.
A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.
every night to fall asleep my mom exclusively watches ghosthunter type youtube videos that are titled like CREEPY NIGHT IN HAUNTED CASTLE FOOTAGE OWNER DIED AFTER THIS and she wears a cpap so she has to blast the audio so she can hear it over the machine so at night all i hear from her room is like people screaming and crying and clanging noises and shaky cam footage people tripping and running and whenever i look in she's just like honk shoo honk shoo mimimimi
james dean, sal mineo & natalie wood // anne hathaway, audra mcdonald & raúl esparza // ben whishaw, matthew goode & hailey atwell
"dont smoke around your pets" okay well i dont even smoke im asthmatic. my dog smokes bc she needs to fucking chill sometimes and Yeah i light them for her Obviously bc she cant use a lighter. i dont get anyrhing out of this arrangment and i resent the implication. in fact shes giving ME secondhand smoke. so my question is why are you so hateful and jugemental and acting like an asshole to me making presumptions and shit about my life.
ohhhh ok your having a hard time with some vague feelings? oh and its like this stickman covered in blood. thats nice dear
