Touching Grass Isn't Enough Some Of Y'all Need To Drive Out To The Countryside And Look At The Stars

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I fell asleep in my friends' arms. It was eleven at night, we were tired, curled up in a small pile on my tiny bed. I had my head buried in my roommate's side, and one of my closest friend's hand on my shoulder, steadying me. It was quiet and nothingness and peace and their heartbeats in my ears, my hands in their hair.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

We pack four people to that little bed, you know. Laps used as footrests, collarbones as pillows, little lights like moonlight in rustic yellow bathed on their faces. The TV plays an anime. The words are repeated by my dear friend on my shoulder, curled close. My legs are asleep; my roommate may be, too.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

The cat curls on top of our criss cross mess of legs and arms and heads on chests to absorb the warmth of us all. She purrs in contented peace. When my roommate and I are left alone in the quiet, she cries, and watches the door for our friends' return.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I will never kiss them but the top of their heads. I will never touch but the warmth of their arms. I will never take more than what's freely given, and in return I put my glasses on the bedside table fashioned from a guitar amp, and when I lean into their sides, I pick up my vulnerability and place it in their capable, tender hands.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I sing for them. I cry for them. I work and I run and I withstand the worst of the world for them, because some days I get to cradle their forehead on my shoulder and some days I get to see their shining eyes.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Maybe to you. But look beyond explanation. I love them. With my heart in my unsteady hands, with my nose pressed to the side of their head, with the buzzing in my feet and the warmth all around Iike the sunset pushing into the window.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Is it enough to say I love them? With no strings attached? With reckless abandon and utter devotion and freedom and kindness and fear?

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I cannot explain it any clearer. I love my friends. There is no more to say.

if you told vin diesel fast and the furious you were gay he'd be like "Some people like driving stick…some people like driving automatic…what matters is you cross the finish line.." and then he'd rev up a dodge challenger and drive through a building and kill 16 people

You've gotta love Jews more than you hate Nazis.

You've gotta love trans folks more than you hate TERFs.

You've gotta love your unhoused neighbors more than you hate the billionaires.

You've gotta love immigrants more than you hate ICE.

You've gotta love queer kids more than you hate christian fundamentalists.

You've gotta love fat people more than you hate the diet industry.

You've gotta love disabled people more than you hate the insurance companies.

You've gotta love your fellow humans more than you hate the worst that humanity has to offer. You don't have to like every person you're fighting for, and you sure as hell don't have to give up your righteous anger, but hate is ultimately corrosive.

You've gotta love.

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling!!

(now available as a sort-of-wallpaper and print~)

Polycule but it’s just two people in a romantic relationship with each other and their third who’s pretty obviously aroace but also somehow so deeply intertwined in their lives that it’d just be wrong to not count them as involved. Is this anything.

stop trying to make your draft perfect on the first try. your characters don’t care. your plot doesn’t care. even the imaginary readers in your head don’t care because they don’t exist yet. just write the terrible version. write the cringey dialogue and the scenes that go nowhere and the metaphors so bad they make you cringe into next week. because guess what? you can’t edit a blank page, but you can edit a hot mess. embrace it.

Punk 101: Burning CDs

People seemed to like my post about how I started burning CDs again, and @olyve-oyle requested that I make a ‘how to’ for people who like to have physical copies of their music, so, here you go!

Disclaimer: There are tons of ways to get music illegally. I’m not going to explain those here for legal reasons, but there are plenty of resources out there that describe how to get music off of youtube, spotify, and tidal. However, Im always going to suggest that you buy your music, if able.

Supplies:

CD-Rs (not CD-ROMs, CD-ROMs are read only disks and you cant save new data to them once they have been created)

CD-RW Drive on your computer (you can also buy one that connects to your computer or laptop since a lot of computers dont have one anymore) RW stands for Read/Write, its what lets you burn a CD

An application like itunes (free accounts are perfectly fine) Windows Media Player also works, but I personally use itunes

Optional but Suggested: Cases

Optional: Craft supplies to decorate cases

Step 1: Obtain Music

There are a couple legal ways to do this. 1. Buy a CD (I typically get mine from thrift stores or my Dad’s old collection to make my own playlists) 2. Buy specific songs you want online. These can all be uploaded to you computer or itunes account

Step 2: Create Your Playlist

Any playlist will work, but it’s important to know how long your CD-Rs burn for. Most typically burn for 90 minutes, so keep your playlist under that. Heres the one I used for this *Note I just threw random stuff together*:

Step 3: Burn To CD-R

Admittedly I only know how to do this on itunes, so heres images showing how, and the settings that I use when burning

Step 4: Decorate

I like to use craft paper and sharpies. Just don’t draw on the bottom of the disk

Step 5: Listen To Your New CD

Punk 101 Masterlist

I would literally die for a collab between hozier and chappell roan