#Wai Wai

[folkfashion]

Wai-Wai men, Guyana, by Jessica Pook

[mishkakagehishka]

I'm excited to see what the fuck "if it wasn't for the baby" is tho

[theofficialuriel]

summary of act 1

[allthatispeculiar]

[pauls-mescal]

Andrew Garfield talks to Elmo about grief and the passing of his mother

[robyn-i-guess]

liking someone platonically is so embarrassing like. yeah i admire you. yeah i think about you all the time. yeah i look forward to every time i see you even if it's only for a minute. yeah it's all platonic and yeah i couldn't explain this because it'd sound romantic. fucking hell

[lakanakana]

war never changes

[puppyeared]

filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^

[jessepinwheel]

I love it when people use "shrimp" to mean "beyond the human range". like "shrimp colors" but applied to other things. "shrimp emotions" "shrimp sounds" "shrimp morality", as if shrimp are living some kind of transcendent existence that humans can never comprehend

[arynneva]

wait do people read first person stories and think they're the ones in the story???

Saw people talking about not liking first person, which is fair, but their reasoning was like "I would not do that" and I don't understand that mindset.

First person stories are still about a character. A character making their own decisions. First person isn't about you???? At least I thought it wasn't. What am I missing? I've always seen first person as just a more in-depth look into a character's mind and stricter POV. Not as a reader stand-in.

[epoxyconfetti]

[shamebats]

We're genuinely so brave for the way we somehow manage to navigate cis society never knowing wtf is going on in their heads at any given time

[fairycosmos]

recognising your parent's mannerisms in yourself and physically feeling psychic damage occur

[bookwyrminspiration]

I can behave normally around books

[great-and-small]

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.