eatpeesweetpea

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REVIEW: my ass in this skirt

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"Seasoned fans of my ass might be misled into overlooking this project entirely..."

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The skirt in question is a periwinkle gathered skirt of a mid-thigh length with white and rose floral patterning. It is comfy and suited to the purpose of barely covering my ass, which is why I chose it for today. If you are stuck inside serving the remainder of a term in COVID jail (as you might recall from my first review), you can at least take the opportunity to air your shit out in the privacy of your home. The skirt however, cute as it is, is not the subject of review - only vital context for the real subject.

Twenty-one years and still going strong, my ass has made its fair share of releases of varying quality. Although somewhat reclusive in its typical transmasc-influenced stylings of baggy jeans and flared shorts, on occasion my ass might be seen making a foray into the odd skirt, closer to the public eye. This is not unexplored territory necessarily. The twist in my ass' latest project comes with an unexpected shift in perspective and presentation.

Initially, there were no signs of any major deviation from previous explorations of the skirt genre. If you can imagine a typical opener from any of my ass' previous works, then that suffices as a description. Inoffensive, but dull. Seasoned fans of my ass might be misled into overlooking this project entirely, but in fact this turns out to be an inspired setup for subversion.

Having donned the skirt shortly after my typical noon rising, it was approaching evening before anything interesting developed. I had slumped over onto the floor the way one understandably does after prolonged toil, propping a Sysiphean stance against unrelenting dysthymia and loneliness and eventually resigning oneself to the company of the carpet. Face mushed down into the nap, ass up. I lay there for a while, treating myself to the catharsis of uninhibited despair. Then I got hungry. I strained from the elbows, unfurled my neck, and before fully committing to the act of rising shot a glance to the mirror.

I caught a glimpse of my ass: two soft, apricot spheres just barely poking out from the ruffle of my skirt. I froze, then leaned slightly forward. The fabric grazed aside my hips, gently riding up the small of my back. I stretched one oblique, compressing the other, arched my head up and over to the side of one tucked knee. I got it. Whenever asked for my stance on the false dichotomy of "Tits or ass?" I always placed myself as a tits guy, but in that moment I would have entertained a solid counterargument.

As my ass settled into its big reveal, I admired the gravity of my cheeks melding into each thigh, and the streamlined curves falling down into my knees. I noticed the new nylon underwear I was wearing, seamless, poking through the intersection of ass and leg, a pop of colorful hearts complementing the colors of my skirt. Expanding awareness to take in my full form, pitbull butch with a chill tee over femme flower drapes, I felt both androgynous and sexy. I'd fuck me.

My sudden self-recognition contradicted with the strop I had been letting myself throw. I often reflect that there is so much to romanticize about the absurdity of this life. All the miniscule details that can inspire disproportionate joy if only I would notice them - all the details I invariably forget whenever I am in a bad mood. Then, the irony was too obvious to be obscured by my incessant negativity. For all my woes, dishes to be done, too tired to do them, stupid reactive sadness, constant dissatisfaction with my work and myself under the subtle veneer of existential dread - nice ass tho.

I saw myself smiling back at me and found a shred of encouragement there. Some internal motivation. I sat up onto this fine ass.

10/10

[eatpeesweetpea]

REVIEW: stupid wasp

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"[He] immediately [flew] back in..."

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I just watched this stupid fucking wasp get stuck inside my window, miraculously find his way out, then immediately fly back in and start raging. What an idiot.

Highly relatable and thoughtful meditation on futility and awareness.

9/10

[eatpeesweetpea]

REVIEW: My 2nd case of COVID-19

TW: mild self destructive behavior, mentions of ED, the state of California

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"[COVID-19] is the Vipassana retreat of viruses..."

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Following north of two years after its debut, my immune system has encountered its sophomore case of COVID-19. Because I am up to date on my vaccines and boosters as of the time of writing, this is an impressive context for COVID-19's return.

It began as a slight and deceptive, "something's stuck in my throat" sort of feeling at the end of a five day road trip through the California. (Let this serve as foreshadowing to how I will review the state of California.) I had choked on a ramen noodle earlier in the day, so I thought nothing of it. The accompanying "off" body feeling that gradually intensified into the evening made the final leg of the drive somewhat uncomfortable. But overall, an underwhelming opener.

COVID-19 really picked up the following morning. Since my girlfriend is a furnace, she can attest that I sleep slight: one blanket, one pillow, soldier, grumpy. No cuddles. I woke up roughly two hours earlier than usual attempting to sell my music in order to exit the freeway on a motorcycle. In my delirium, I whined and snuggled up. I was shivering under two blankets in a sweater, and clammy. My yucky throat feeling had evolved into an icky dry cough that sometimes produced a satisfying wad of phlegm. I was too lazy to get up and get socks to thaw my icy toes.

Post 600 mg ibuprofen, I had reclaimed some vitality and managed to drag my sorry ass home. I dilly dallied unproductively around my room for most of the day, feeling somewhat paranoid about brain fog, long COVID, some weird swelling above my hips, etc. Come nighttime and my fever had crept back up to a surprising 102.9° F. I slumped at the dining room table and spooned hot chicken soup into my hanging mouth. There is something very fascinating and rewarding about these sorry, altered states of consciousness, and I pondered that for a few minutes before redosing. I went to bed shortly after and passed out.

I mostly slept through the night, only beginning to stir prematurely towards morning. I half-awoke very unpleasantly drenched in sweat and flipped the blankets around a couple times to evenly distribute the spoilage. Once I fully woke up, I recorded my temp at a cool 97.2° F. In fact, the rest of the day went swimmingly. I completed some chores, did some painting, and cooked for myself with minimal medication and nursing only a somewhat irritating cough. My throat was more itchy than sore. As for the body feel, I think I could have successfully ran a quarter-marathon given a sufficiently motivated bear or pack of wolves.

Overall, I have mixed feelings on COVID-19. Within the context of its contemporaries, COVID-19 did no more harm than a moderate flu, and I much prefer its dry, manageable cough to the agony of strep throat. The body load and fatigue of COVID-19 was notably brutal on its first day, but backed off much more quickly than any other condition of its caliber. The true scale-tippers here are the social effects of COVID-19; this is the only sickness where you are expected to inform all of your previous company of the potential that you got them sick. Not fun. This is also the only common illness where you can't get away with re-entering society right about when you feel better. The strict code of courtesy around COVID-19 is good and ethical, but knocks it down a couple points by the standards of my review.

That's not to say there are only negatives. On the other side of the coin, I have appreciated the impetus to refocus on art and personal reflection. I've made my maiden voyage through more albums in the last two days than the last two months. I made my first Tumblr post. As someone who is typically noncommittal about disordered eating, I considered the mild reduction in appetite a plus. And further on the topic of self-destructive glee, anybody who claims they don't want to see just how high they can get their temperature before they get scared is full of shit. Number go up funny dopamine -- so I appreciated the astounding effort on fever here.

If you are looking for a new sickness to contract and have a light ten days ahead, keep COVID-19 on your radar. It is the Vipassana retreat of viruses: painful, isolating, meditative, and occasionally gross. Tolerable. Just don't feel tempted to share the love.

6/10