in class i’m used to sitting in the back and making all these smartass comments under my breath
now i’m in the front though so when our attractive instructor drops something and says ‘ah, fuck me!’ and i say ‘maybe later’ he hEARS ME AND LAUGHS GODFUCKING FUCK
the saga continues today in physics when our instructor asks ‘and how fast does light travel?’ and i whisper ‘hella’ and the kid next to me fucking loses it
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.
Reblogging for the comment
How old are you?
How long have you been ten?
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN
Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”
OH MY LORD HELP
I am so fucking angry and ashamed of the Australian government today. Not only have they revoked our same sex marriage rights they will go ahead and annul the 15 beautiful couples who married last week. Absolutely disgusting.
Same sex marriage is a human right.
If you’re a boy writer, it’s a simple rule: you’ve gotta get used to the fact that you suck at writing women and that the worst women writer can write a better man than the best male writer can write a good woman. And it’s just the minimum. Because the thing about the sort of heteronormative masculine privilege, whether it’s in Santo Domingo, or the United States, is you grow up your entire life being told that women aren’t human beings, and that women have no independent subjectivity. And because you grow up with this, it’s this huge surprise when you go to college and realize that, “Oh, women aren’t people who does my shit and fucks me.”
And I think that this a huge challenge for boys, because they want to pretend they can write girls. Every time I’m teaching boys to write, I read their women to them, and I’m like, “Yo, you think this is good writing?” These motherfuckers attack each other over cliche lines but they won’t attack each other over these toxic representations of women that they have inherited… their sexist shorthand, they think that is observation. They think that their sexist distortions are insight. And if you’re in a writing program and you say to a guy that their characters are sexist, this guy, it’s like you said they fucking love Hitler. They will fight tooth and nail because they want to preserve this really vicious sexism in the art because that is what they have been taught.
And I think the first step is to admit that you, because of your privilege, have a very distorted sense of women’s subjectivity. And without an enormous amount of assistance, you’re not even going to get a D. I think with male writers the most that you can hope for is a D with an occasional C thrown in. Where the average women writer, when she writes men, she gets a B right off the bat, because they spent their whole life being taught that men have a subjectivity. In fact, part of the whole feminism revolution was saying, “Me too, motherfuckers.” So women come with it built in because of the society.
It’s the same way when people write about race. If you didn’t grow up being a subaltern person in the United States, you might need help writing about race. Motherfuckers are like ‘I got a black boy friend,’ and their shit sounds like Klan Fiction 101.
The most toxic formulas in our cultures are not pass down in political practice, they’re pass down in mundane narratives. It’s our fiction where the toxic virus of sexism, racism, homophobia, where it passes from one generation to the next, and the average artist will kill you before they remove those poisons. And if you want to be a good artist, it means writing, really, about the world. And when you write cliches, whether they are sexist, racist, homophobic, classist, that is a fucking cliche. And motherfuckers will kill you for their cliches about x, but they want their cliches about their race, class, queerness. They want it in there because they feel lost without it. So for me, this has always been the great challenge.
As a writer, if you’re really trying to write something new, you must figure out, with the help of a community, how can you shed these fucking received formulas. They are received. You didn’t come up with them. And why we need fellow artists is because they help us stay on track. They tell you, “You know what? You’re a bit of a fucking homophobe.” You can’t write about the world with these simplistic distortions. They are cliches. People know art, always, because they are uncomfortable. Art discomforts. The trangressiveness of art has to deal with confronting people with the real. And sexism is a way to avoid the real, avoiding the reality of women. Homophobia is to avoid the real, the reality of queerness. All these things are the way we hide from encountering the real. But art, art is just about that.
so this guy right here is one class-a asshole
he stated, as above, that he had created this artwork
after he gained 100s of RTs and favs, it appeared on my timeline and i recognised it as the work of Vince Low, who created a series of pieces in this style, paying homage to celebrities, mainly actors, with dyslexia
I read through the replies to his tweet, including “wow”s and “i’m so jealous of your art skill”s, and only spotted one other person who realised this was in fact not this guy’s art, though he completely dismissed this person’s comment saying “that guy stole my picture”……
so, me already being sick of this art theft shit, as i see it every day on the web, piped up
and you can read above (excuse the bad quality) that he completely dismissed me, saying i was “jealous”
what angers me most is that he’s getting praise from 100s of people, and they will keep praising him because they won’t see the tweets where me and the one other person pull him up on it
ALSO, I GAVE THE FUCKER PROOF THAT IT WAS NOT HIS WORK. DOWNRIGHT, PROOF FROM AN ONLINE NEWSPAPER ARTICLE THAT THE WORK WAS BY VINCE LOW, AND THE LITTLE DICKHOLE STILL DENIED IT
some may say i’m overreacting, and that i shouldn’t use such foul language, but i am completely sick of this bullshit. i’ve had this happen to me in the past, and it made me less inclined to create art to share on this site.
when you create something you’re proud of, that you put a lot of work into, and someone credits it as their own and people believe them and continue to praise them, even after they’ve been shown proof that they’re lying.. it is one of the most crushing things to ever experience, i know.
so if you experience something like this, it may not make a difference, but you need to at least try to expose the assholes and voice the truth
and please signal boost!!!
we need to try and stop this bullshit, because it is a serious issue.
it gets less better.