I’m very happy for this woman… she bleeds happiness through every photo and I think this picture is amazing. Congrats Amber!!
Photo by gay Latino artist Manuel A. Acevedo“…Brown Boys are not suppose to love
we are simply born to fuck each other up
and now that we are getting ready to this again
I want you to hold me
and pretend we are regaining everything taken away from us
our dignity, our pride, our love for one another
do me with Justice…” (Acts Of Resistance)-Yosimar Reyes
From US Weekly, the dynamic and fabulous mommy and daughter duo, Jada and Willow, getting their surf on in Hawaii. I LOVE THIS.
Speaking of your arm, what are all of these tattoos you have? Is that the logo for the band Eyehategod?
Zak: Yeah, and I have Mandy’s preexisting medical conditions tattooed on my right forearm. I think there are around 12 of them. They’re for when we have to talk to EMTs or if we have to fill out medical paperwork. You would have them, too. They’re hard to keep track of, and I’ve got a lot on my mind.
True fucking love, you guys. This boy has his lady’s medical conditions fucking TATTOOED on his forearm so they’re always at the ready. When you love a person who is sick, like really sick, never-going-to-get-better-sick-everyday sick, these are the kinds of things you have to do because the minute it takes you to find the list of afflictions could be the difference between living and dying.
This kind of devotion is beyond beautiful. It’s just gorgeous.
From VICE’s interview which you can read here.
Photos and article by Kimberly Kane.
Action League NOW!
I miss this show and KABLAM!
Meltman was my favorite.
Meltman was the best!
[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: There are six manatees in shallow water. Two of them are resting their heads on one with only its back visible, which is also being hugged by another manatee on its side. One manatee is just in the bottom of the frame, and another is off to the side, only its fin visible. TEXT: “Family isn’t about blood. It is about who you love, and who loves you.”]
‘10 Honest Thoughts On Being Loved By A Skinny Boy’ - Rachel Wiley.
(I had to transcribe this poem, because it became an immediate favorite the second that I heard it. I am over 70 pounds heavier than my boyfriend, and I have thought, felt and said all of these things before. But he is perfect, and we are perfect together.)
10 HONEST THOUGHTS ON BEING LOVED BY A SKINNY BOY
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
this makes me cry
this is so me it’s not even funny
Urdustan is now out, available for $9.00 in PRINT only. It is a collection of short stories about South Asians—punks, vampires, deafies, etc. There are seven stories in total. Please visit Urdustan for a summary and a short review by Jean-Marc, a musician based in Brussels, Belgium (the world’s very FIRST review of Urdustan).
Seven stories, four nations, one people.
Whether it’s a slaughterhouse in the East End of London or a run-down hotel in the holy city of Al-Madinah, a tiny township in Northern Michigan or a fishing village on the Bay of Bengal in India, people yearn for the same thing in common–life–to experience life and to feel alive.
Urdustan tells the stories of North Indians and Pakistanis; Muslims and Hindus; Desi Americans and British Asians. All come from the same land yet each leads a different life and tells a different story; each shares the desire to experience love and friendship, the insatiable urge to connect to others on a human level.
Urdustan reveals multiple personalities of the South Asian diaspora that are often ignored. The stories are richly interwoven with different characters from many walks of life–Hasidic Jews, African Americans, punks, deaf teens, gay males, and even supernatural creatures such as vampires and angels. Romance, horror, racism, homophobia, audism, love, death, spirituality, fantasy, friendship all play important factors in the storytelling of Urdustan. Each story is a small reflection of the greatly diverse world we live in and call our home.
# REPPIN D.I.Y SELF-PUBLISHED DESI / DEAF / MUSLIM / PUNK AUTHORS
I and I rise
That’s it. Game over. You will never have a wedding ring cooler than that of redditor laporkenstein. Not only did he fashion the band himself, in the formidable fires of… well… his garage — he forged the damn thing out of a chunk of meteorite. (A Gibeon meteorite, to be exact.)
I offered to do something similar… since I had my own jewelry making kiln… but she wanted “real” jewelry. I have made absolutely nothing since that day.
and now I love foster’s home for imaginary friends even more
MORE, I SAY!