a-shoebox-named-meap

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

Megan Thee Stallion to release highly anticipated cover of The Rime Of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

The three sleepy geeblets

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

i drew this back in july and never posted it here ahh. sai kept crashing while i was drawing it so i went to work and said ill finish the rest of it later and then i ……… never did ….. kno. like a Liar

the wip for the second half of this is still in my folder … i remember i was like ONE panel from finishing all of it and then it CRASHED … also i switched to using clip studio from then and i cant emulate the sai brush i used to draw this so even if i finish it itll look kinda weird. since i dont hav the same brush… anyways

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

TIL the reason you don’t find much Lyme’s Disease in California is not because we don’t have Ticks, or Lyme Disease Vectors; but rather: because the Western Fence Lizard (if you live anywhere in California this is your regular Garden Variety Lizard) has adapted a passive immune response that makes their blood lethal to Lyme Disease Bacteria. Any Tick that feeds on one gets its gut cleansed of Lyme Disease as a side effect.

Fucking neat.

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

Speef is real to me. I'm sorry for that.

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

how it feels to drive a prius on the interstate surrounded on all sides by huge trucks

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

We out here, stridulating off key

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

“Must have reliable transportation” = “this is how we legally discriminate against poor people who take the bus”

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

tonight i swore a blood oath to the minimum wage workers at my local subway

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

whoever made that post that's like "depressed people aren't listening to sad music they're listening to wild ones by flo rida at 7 in the morning" has ruined my life. sitting in my car outside work right now feeling like shit emotionally but at least hollaback girl is playing on the radio

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

violence and death and dying and blood and guts and gore and violence and viscera and fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

anyway. onto better things

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

remember kids. if a highway ends in an even number, it goes east-west. if it ends in an odd number, it goes north-south. if it ends in a 0 or 5, it's cross-country in its designated direction. if its a connector or bypass, it'll be 3 digits. if the first number of the three digits is even, it'll reconnect with the main highway (the last two digits). if the first digit is odd, it does not reconnect with the main highway and will most likely narrow into a regional or local road. this is my final message from this world. goodbye i love you.

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

and now you're just somebiden that I used to joe