round-up: 3/06
Happy Monday!
Here’s what I have for you today:
What I’m reading & watching
Quotations
Tweets
Housekeeping:
What I’m watching:
Poker Face
American Crime Story (OJ’s season)
Daisy Jones & The Six
The first three episodes of Daisy Jones & The Six were very fun although, by episode 3, it was all feeling a bit too heterosexual for my taste. Imagine my relief when the third episode finally introduced a lesbian! God bless.
What I’m reading:
& to read:
Quotations:
Body positivity didn’t rely on a vocabulary of self-improvement. In this regard, its effects are less psychically damaging than the diet culture of yore. The movement leaned into a language of care, giving rise to the self-care industrial complex that, once again, centered the flesh. The implication is that we always need to be paying for something, even in the celebration or maintenance of our bodies. We are stuck in a capitalist ouroboros with no good solution.
The pursuit of vanity trumps all shame.
There's a lot to unpack in the assumption that my being a top misses the point. Foremost, that the feature in fucking me lies in my having penetrable genitals, and that those bits should be on offer. The current zeitgeist seems to omit the possibility of me having a huge, sensitive, flesh and blood dick. Lots of trans men do. I don't happen to, but also nobody ever asks. The fact that I have my natal bits – and even that I enjoy getting fucked – does not mean my purpose is cis men's pleasure.
[…]
It seems to me that trans men are allowed to be one variety of gay product whose marketed look is androgynous, youthful twink and whose marketed use is the perfect bottom. It's often a revelation to cis gay men that a 40-year-old, hairy, masculine top in leather (essentially the canonical leather man) would be trans.
Are our flowers merely flowers?
-Noah Eli Gordon, The Source
Why, if you are so clever, do you lie here like a sack and have nothing to show for it?
-Noah Eli Gordon, The Source
Timber
was my sacrum, timber were my metatarsals,
timber was my lungs’ pink flesh, timber was my skull.
I was a blueprint, blue on blue, mapless
but for those warm bones and my red heart barking.
-Ama Codjoe
Tonight, I am alone in my tenderness.
There is nothing in my hand except a certain
grasping.
-Ama Codjoe
In the beginning, there was blood or the threat
of blood.
-Ama Codjoe
We were so desperate then, the two of us, undone
by longing.
-Ama Codjoe
The end of the world has ended, and desire is still
all I crave.
-Ama Codjoe
Time turned like a mood ring.
My mood changed like a thunderstruck sky.
-Ama Codjoe
Let me refuse simile.
I do not wish to write it.
-Ama Codjoe
Has life ever seemed this worthless, and one’s own skin so worth saving at the same time?
-Laura Mullen, Murmur
Tweets:
