Photographer Paola de Grenet is the Edge of Humanity Magazine contributor of this social documentary photography. From her project ‘Life as a Transsexual‘. To see Paola’s body of work click on any image. Barcelona is a liberal city with a vast community of gays, travesties and transsexuals. It is a […]
a. if I wanted to provide contact details on every post, I would have. but i don’t want y’all filling up the in-box either.
b. if i wanted to post more ‘visuals’ throughout my posts, like this one:
i would have. but i don’t, unless i want too.
c. i don’t permit you to comment. you do: i delete.
d. just because i post a religious post (which is usually a piss-take if you cared to read it properly) does not mean i am interested in your religious, homophobic and archaic views. (maybe i should put that in the disclaimer …. )
e. saying my article is what you have been looking for, for like forever, and you’re so grateful that i have addressed it … on the disclaimer post, or the ‘Nights in White Satin’ post … leaves me wondering where in the world you are actually from.
f. rss feed: can you find it or not … i also, do not, care.
Have a great day 🙂
Know Your Baldwin …
I love the Response Process … Solid!
Janelle Monáe, Samuel L. Jackson, Chris Rock, Lupita Nyong’o and these other celebrities want you to know that they’re not your negro — and that you should know your James Baldwin.
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Mic is a website that gives you news to help you rethink the world. Check out http://www.mic.com to get our latest videos and articles, from breaking news to science, tech, and culture.
I don’t particularly like the song itself … but the video … now that brought Me all sorts of joy 😉
It’s the responding … from approx 2.20 onwards.
It’s doing all the shit you want too … just cos you got a rage burning inside yah!
Hold Up ~ Beyonce, 2016
I love this Poem!
An amazing Poet! For more go to “The Freedom Of – Drunk Conversations and My Boring Life”.
Comments are turned off here. To comment please go to the original post. Cheers.
i met god and She was black,
as black as the lies on Her lips
the music. the lullaby.
the song She sings at us.
i met god and She was blacker
than the thoughts,
the ones that make my knuckles bleed,
the ones that feed the demons
behind my muscles.
i met god in the middle of
an empty parking lot.
i was sitting in my car
and She fucked me.
She tasted like the sea
like the salt-black pool
that sits in my stomach
and bleeds out my pores.
She smelled like me.
i met god and Her
movements were selfish.
She was brief, She was gone
i was left naked, cold
with no answers told,
i met god and She fucked me black.
i met god and She fucked me.
“i met god”
While I was doing my ‘distraction’ cleaning … *Done, so I don’t overly stress on the possibilities that tomorrows shizz may bring – Yes; I decided to go to my psychologist appointment – and Yes; I have informed the partner that if the airport twat talks to much I will be *shushing* her 😉 …. I let YouTube play through, and somehow ended up at Christmas songs … I know right!
But as the songs below were playing through, I had a couple dozen thoughts – As I Do.
- I wonder if they asked any Africans to input into these?
- There were a couple (literally) black faces in the 1984 ensemble. Why? I know there were plenty beautiful black singers around in 1984.
- I’m not sure whether Africa (the starving part anyway) really gave a fuck about Christmas time.
- Was this part of the point of these songs? The irony? Singing to the rich white folks so they’d feel sympathetic and open up their Christmas wallets?
- USA for Africa certainly had few more black / brown faces in their ensemble.
- Were they aware when they made the 1984 version, that Africa was stripped of their resources by greedy white colonial fuckers?
- Were they aware of that when they made the 2014 version?
- Maybe they should’ve have written that colonial history into a verse or 2.
- Maybe they did and it got taken out? ? ?
Band Aid~ Do They Know It’s Christmas, 1984
Band Aid ~ Do They Know It’s Christmas, 2014
Yeah, so that was my day of pondering …
After this mornings panic fuck, it took most of the day to recover … thanks to the cunts next door who are still renovating, the vibrating of the house meant that the ‘calming’ process was made harder … but I shouldn’t blame them I suppose … but who cares right? They’ll never know … so I’ll blame them 😉
So its 1230 and I’m fucked. And now I’ve got some more decisions to make .. and because I can’t quite get a coherent thought together, I’m gonna bullet point this bitch – so I can get it all out and hopefully make some sense of it all …
And We can call it a poem – just so it seems a little flasher than what it really is …
- I didn’t take a sedative today.
- I lived through the panic.
- I survived the phone call.
- I didn’t suffocate whilst dripping snot and tears.
- I’m on 1/4 antihistamine now.
- I’m itchy as a mofo.
- I know it’ll pass.
- I’ve got an appointment with the psychologist on Wednesday.
- Turns out the partner is supposed to take some twat to the airport.
- It’ll work out he reckons.
- I don’t do ‘it’ll work out’ as an outcome.
- Wednesday is payday.
- Paydays are fucked days.
- The day before payday is a fucked day.
- Oh, its not My payday.
- I feel vulnerable.
- I feel like a child.
- I feel like I’m at the whim of someone elses emotions.
- And I don’t like it.
- Do I cancel the appointment.
- Post pone the appointment maybe.
- Is that weak.
- Or smart.
- Cos I know how that day is gonna pan out.
- And it won’t be pretty.
- For Me.
- Unless of course I take a sedative.
- And then I aint gonna remember much of the day anyway.
- If I go, I need to get blood taken as well.
- I wanted it to be a calm day.
- Had made time to have coffee with my daughter.
- She’s a newly trained barista.
- Then my appointment.
- Then home.
- Whilst ignoring the partners mood.
- I can do that.
- But new shit thrown in there.
- The airport twat would come home with us first.
- Which means I’d hear her talking for 40 minutes.
- Not sure that I can do that.
- Well I can.
- But it wouldn’t be pretty.
- For her. Or the partner.
- I don’t care about that really.
- So maybe thats the option.
- Roll with the cluster fuck.
- Drop a sedative or 2 if need be.
- Make sure I have a humungous coffee.
- Oh, and ear muffs.
use to think
to look outside
was a character-
held by mamas,
but it aint.
has led me
of this character-
being pretty common;
it is actu-
not held by manys.
cos manys are
The day started off pretty good … ‘normal’, for Me.
I got my shizz ready to go to the shop … yes, it’s still a struggle, but I’m trying …
I get outside and half way down the road and my phone rings. The phone call I’ve been waiting for from the ACC cunts is coming through. Now? Of course Now … Why? Because I’m Me, that’s Why.
Decision time: To take the call whilst trying to walk to the shop; trying to maintain my shizz – the lights, the noises … trying to calm my freaking farm … Choosing to take the call that I’ve been waiting waiting waiting for … OR
Wait … till god knows when, for them to ring back.
Decision made to take the phone call.
Arrgh. And she spirals down from there.
Nearly at the shop and trying to listen to this woman belt on about the next ‘assessment’ process, whilst she keeps calling me ‘sweetie’ and ‘love’ … both condescending ‘you poor mentally injured soul’ terms of reference that peeps love to pull out so they seem all sympathetic and understanding and shit … and the inevitable happens …
Do I sit down on the curb side and breathe deep or fluster fuck myself all the way home and deep breath. Option 2 taken and I barely made it in the door.
ACC twat rounded off her conversation and all I gleaned from it was:
‘The next available appointment is around the end of August’ and ‘No amount of money is ever going to compensate what you have been through’ … which is code for; ‘We are going to pay you sweet fuck all because to Us, you really are nothing but a number who we are not really wanting to pay out anything for – so brace yo’self … for sweet fuck all’.
Oh My Fuck.
So, inside my door, the inevitable melt down happened. Tears and snot and trying to catch my breath and getting my hands over my ears …
And the partner goes:
Not a question so much as a statement; intended to get the tears to stop, because they make him most uncomfortable … oh and he has a cold sore which is way way more intense than anything I’m experiencing Pfft …
So as the meltdown continues and I’m trying to wrap my funky little head round myself … it occurs to Me …
I am the strongest person I know.
And like everything else, I’ll deal with this bitch just as heartily as I do everything else. It may not be an elegant process or outcome … but it’ll be a Me outcome.
Oossh and double Oossh, Me.
Sometimes I look around me
and then think to my little quirky self …
“Just be normal for fucks sakes!
For once in your life,
Try and be fucking normal.”
And then Forest Gumps Mama springs to mind:
“Stupid is as stupid does”.
And I realise that that quote has absolutely
nothing to do with any train of thought
about being normal.
And I realise,
at this point, that
I am well
there aint no normal coming out of the closet any time
in the near, or not so near,
*she rocked though … ol Forests Mama*