#jesu joy of mans desiring

[vinylarchavist]

Switched-On Bach (MS 7194)

Clarifying the Cover Art

A standing figure holding headphones in their right hand indicates a less common or alternate cover for Switched-On Bach (MS 7194). The standard 1968 cover, designed by John Berg with photography by Horn/Griner, typically features a person in 18th-century attire (resembling Bach) seated at a Moog synthesizer, with patch cables and a keyboard prominently displayed. However, some pressings, particularly international or later U.S. editions, used alternate artwork due to Columbia’s practice of varying covers for promotional or regional releases.

Album Details

Title: Switched-On Bach

Artist: Wendy Carlos (credited as Walter Carlos)

Label: Columbia Masterworks

Catalog Number: MS 7194 (Stereo; mono version is M 7194)

Release Year: October 1968

Format: 12" Vinyl LP, Stereo

Genre: Electronic, Baroque Music, Moogsploitation

Producers: Trans-Electronic Music Productions, Inc. (Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind)

Performers: Wendy Carlos (Moog synthesizer), Benjamin Folkman (additional keyboards)

Country: USA (distributed globally by Columbia)

Alternate Cover: Certain pressings of Switched-On Bach feature a figure standing with headphones, emphasizing the modern, technological aspect of the Moog synthesizer. This cover may have been used for specific markets (e.g., UK, Canada, or export pressings) or later reissues. For example, a Discogs listing (r139241) notes slight artwork variations across pressings, and Rate Your Music mentions different covers for Switched-On Bach. The standing figure with headphones aligns with the album’s futuristic theme, contrasting the baroque music within.

Track Listing

Assuming MS 7194 is Switched-On Bach, the tracklist includes 12 Bach compositions reinterpreted on the Moog synthesizer:

Sinfonia to Cantata No. 29 (3:20)

Air on a G String (2:27)

Two-Part Invention in F Major (0:45)

Two-Part Invention in B-Flat Major (1:30)

Two-Part Invention in D Minor (0:48)

Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring (2:56)

Prelude and Fugue No. 7 in E-Flat Major (7:07)

Prelude and Fugue No. 2 in C Minor (2:43)

Chorale Prelude “Wachet Auf” (3:37)

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major: First Movement (6:35)

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major: Second Movement (2:50)

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major: Third Movement (5:05)

Unique Sound

Switched-On Bach is celebrated for its groundbreaking sound, blending Baroque precision with electronic innovation. Key aspects include:

Moog Synthesizer Innovation: Wendy Carlos used a custom-built Moog modular synthesizer, a monophonic instrument requiring each note to be programmed individually. This labor-intensive process (described as “unfathomable” by reviewers) produced a range of timbres—harpsichord-like plucks, organ-like sustains, and ethereal tones—unheard in 1968. Overdubbing created polyphonic textures, mimicking an orchestra.

Baroque-Electronic Fusion: Bach’s mathematical compositions (e.g., fugues and inventions) were ideal for the Moog’s precise, clean sound. Tracks like “Brandenburg Concerto No. 3” retain Baroque structure while introducing futuristic timbres, creating a “timely and timeless” sound that feels both classical and avant-garde.

Technical Mastery: Carlos’s meticulous multitrack recording and tuning (aided by Benjamin Folkman) resulted in a polished, vibrant sound. Reviewers praised its “crisp, precise, and rapid” execution, with instruments “singing better than human voices” in some passages.

Cultural Novelty: The album’s electronic timbres were novel in 1968, sparking a “Moogsploitation” trend with imitators like Switched-On Bacharach. Its kitschy yet sophisticated sound appealed to classical fans, audiophiles, and experimental music enthusiasts.

Stereo Mix: The MS 7194 stereo pressing enhances the Moog’s dynamic range, with distinct separation of voices, making it ideal for vinyl collectors seeking analog warmth. The headphones on the cover you described underscore the album’s hi-fi appeal.

Cover Art and Packaging

Your described cover—a standing figure holding headphones in their right hand—suggests a variant emphasizing the Moog’s technological allure. Standard MS 7194 pressings feature a seated figure at a synthesizer, but alternate covers were used for some editions. The jacket includes liner notes by Carlos, Folkman, and Robert Moog, explaining the synthesizer’s technology and Bach’s suitability for electronic adaptation. The back cover lists tracks and credits, with photography by Horn/Griner. The cardboard jacket is prone to ring wear or seam splits, similar to your other 1960s LPs (Vera Lynn, Doctor Dolittle).

Vinyl Collector Details

Catalog Number MS 7194: The “MS” prefix denotes stereo, preferred for its dynamic sound over the mono M 7194. Original 1968 pressings have Columbia’s red “360 Sound Stereo” label with the “walking eye” logo. Check runout etchings (e.g., “XSM 137225-1A” or “XSM 137226”) to confirm first pressings, often marked with “P” (Pitman) or “S” (Santa Maria).

Condition and Value: On Discogs (r139241), VG+ to NM copies sell for $10–$30, with sealed or mint copies at $40–$100 (2025 prices). Promotional copies with “Demonstration” stamps or white labels can reach $150+. The album’s popularity ensures availability, but alternate covers (like yours) may increase value if rare.

Rarities: Promotional copies, signed LPs (rare, as Carlos was reclusive), or international pressings with unique artwork are highly collectible. Your headphones cover may indicate a Canadian or UK pressing, noted in some Discogs listings.

Availability: Available on Discogs, eBay, and Amazon (ASIN varies by reissue). Thrift stores or record fairs may have copies, but check for scratches or surface noise, as 1960s vinyl was heavily played.

Reissues: Later releases include CBS Masterworks CDs (MK 7194) and 180-gram vinyl by Friday Music or Music On Vinyl. The original MS 7194 is prized for its analog sound and historical value.

Reception and Legacy

Switched-On Bach was a cultural phenomenon, peaking at #10 on the Billboard 200 and selling over a million copies, a feat for a classical album. It won a Grammy for Best Classical Performance (Instrumental Soloist, 1969) and sparked a Moog synthesizer craze. Critics lauded its “incredible production” and “timeless timbres,” though some classical purists criticized its electronic approach. Its 2000s revival, noted on Rate Your Music (#267 for 1968) and UNCUT’s “500 Greatest Albums of the 1960s,” highlights its enduring appeal. Carlos’s identity as a trans artist adds social significance, especially post-1979.

Connection to Your Interests

Your queries about The Great Doctor Dolittle Songs (Pickwick/33, 1968), Blue Öyster Cult (Columbia KC 31063, 1972), and The World of Vera Lynn (London SPA 103, 1968) show a passion for late-1960s vinyl across genres. Switched-On Bach complements these as a 1968 Columbia release, offering an electronic twist that contrasts with the orchestral pop of Vera Lynn, the proto-metal of BÖC, and the budget covers of Doctor Dolittle. Its innovative sound and collectible status align with your focus on era-specific LPs.

Recommendations for Collectors

Why Collect MS 7194: This LP is essential for electronic music fans, classical crossover enthusiasts, and 1960s vinyl collectors. Its unique sound, Grammy win, and potential rare cover make it a standout alongside your other albums.

Where to Find: Search Discogs (r139241), eBay, or Amazon for MS 7194. Check thrift stores or record fairs for deals, but verify the cover matches your description. Your variant may be listed under international pressings.

Care Tips: Store in a polyethylene-lined sleeve to protect the jacket. Clean with a carbon-fiber brush to preserve the stereo mix’s clarity, vital for the Moog’s timbres.

Companion Albums: Pair with Carlos’s The Well-Tempered Synthesizer (1969, Columbia MS 7286) or Switched-On Brandenburgs (1980, CBS Masterworks) for more Moog explorations.

Additional Notes

If your copy is indeed MS 7194, check:

Runout Etchings: Look for “XSM 137225” or “XSM 137226” to confirm a 1968 pressing.

Label: Verify the red Columbia “360 Sound Stereo” label.

Jacket: Inspect for wear, as alternate covers may be rarer and more valuable.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I turned on my car radio for about five hours on a long drive this week and found myself suffering and appalled through the advert-heavy and song-lite nature of it all. Seriously, this is what passes for radio programming these days? The ninety-nine and one-half trillionth T-Swift breakup ballad? Pop-country tunes that manage to all sound the EXACT same as the previous pop-country tune?? Radio rock stations featuring tunes with less balls than a castrati troupe!? Modern hip-hop/rap music that all sounds roughly equivalent to setting up a lawncare sprinkler system in my car only without the water!!? Nine-to-ten agonizing commercials in a row before you get to the commercial-free hour, only to be then reminded between each individual song that it’s the commercial free music hour!!??!?!!?? I flipped from station to station hoping for some form of alleviation, for SOME hope that music is still alive and well on the radio in 2023. Y’know what I found out? The absolute BEST music programming on modern radio is based on tunes created around two to three centuries ago. That’s right folks! The best radio station I came across was a classical one. The classical radio deejay was informative, his voice was soft and pleasant, there were minimal commercials and the musical interludes lasted forty-five minutes at a stretch until the next commercial break. Inspired by this, until the end of 2023, I’ll be posting 3 classical tune sets (Bach, Vivaldi, and Brahms) starting with my personal favorite German musician of all-time, Johann Sebastian Bach.

Generally regarded as one of the greatest composers in the history of Western culture, this man was truly fit for the title ‘Master of Composition’. Starting off as a mega-talented organ player and violinist, Bach had a distinct flair for blending widely varying instruments and regional musical styles, regularly synthesizing multifarious sound techniques to make a noise ain’t nobody on Earth had heard before. Having been employed by local churches early on, Bach began composing his own ‘sacred music’ (see also ‘church music’) and being something of a musical jack-of-all-trades engaged in his own ‘non-secular’ works which did not jive with very simply defined and rigid church traditions. Having a penchant for engineering complex and experimental arrangements, Bach developed a special talent for weaving melodic lines and immensely complex interdependent harmonies together to provide compositional structures that were simply second to NONE in the early 1700’s and even up to this very day. His concertos for orchestras, sonatas, suites, cantatas, keyboard works, choral works and organ works really are the stuff of legend which is why they are hailed up to the current day! I could go on endlessly about his accolades, but instead I’ll just leave you with the following final thought. Some of Bach’s individual works are like observing an incredibly detailed drawing or painting, except with audio. If you concentrate enough on a single piece, you’ll very clearly hear the overlapping elements, the solid lines accompanied by the abstract rudiments floating softly in the background and be moved emotionally by the very physics of the harmonic motions. It’s not just the melodic nature of the man’s tunes, but also the harmony that accompanies them. Smash play and enjoy a variation of Cantata BWV 147: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring and experience for yourself why people like Bach were truly the rock stars of their era. And if you want more, like way more, click just below for The Best of Bach and enjoy!

He also married his own cousin, had 20 children through separate wives, and died after eye surgery in 1750. I like to separate the art from the artist on my blog. Nobody’s perfect, it was different times back then with vastly inferior social and medical standards at play. I don’t judge too harshly. I mean, he was so talented that Duke Wilhelm had him imprisoned after Bach simply tried to leave the Duke’s royal court to find a better gig. He did something that the vast majority of modern musicians just can’t seem to be bothered to do… innovate (to simplify that word for modern musicians, it means creating brand NEW stuff that no one has heard of or tried before, you’re welcome…)! And for that reason, he has more than earned his placed in the annals of human history as one, if not the greatest composer, and my personal favorite classical composer of all time. Image source: https://www.nationalgeographic.co.uk/history-and-civilisation/2019/07/how-bachs-anatomy-may-have-handed-him-greatness

[a-suspicious-lack-of-bagel]

welp! my presentation went So much better than I was expecting but I may have gone on a sidetrack explaining temperament and taken 3 minutes longer than I was supposed to. ah well! I think my lecturer enjoyed it

[culturevulturette]

When I was a kid in high school orchestra, the thing was to rip through this as fast as one could just to show off.

Yes, I appreciate the nuance of the piece a tad more now.

[curiosityschild]

Speaking of christmas eve outfit my brother's girlfriend told me that the person sitting behind her at the service last night told her "that boy is very good at the piano!" that's me I'm the boy who's good at the piano

[philmonjohn]

A Call to the Children of the Global South: The System That Made My Father Disown Me

I didn’t write this living testimony for virality. I wrote it because silence almost killed me. Because truth, even when ignored by algorithms, remembers how to survive. If this resonated with you — even quietly — share it with someone else who’s still trying to name their Fracture. That’s how we outlive the system. - Philmon John, May 2025

THE FRACTURE Several months ago, when I, a South-Asian American man, turned 35, my father disowned me.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t cry. He simply stopped calling me his son.

My father is a Brown, MAGA-aligned conservative Christian pastor, born in Kerala, India, and now living in the United States. His rejection wasn’t provoked by any breach of trust or familial responsibility, but by my coming out as queer and bisexual — and by my deliberate move away from a version of Christianity shaped more by colonial rule than compassion.

I became blasphemy made flesh.

My mother and sister, equally immersed in religious conservatism, followed suit. Most of my extended family — conservative Indian Christians — responded with quiet complicity. I became an exile in my own lineage, cast out from a network that once celebrated me as the Mootha Makkan, the Malayalam term for “eldest son”.

This break didn’t occur in isolation. It was the culmination of years of internal questioning and ideological transformation.

I was raised with warmth and structure, but also under the weight of rigid theology. My parents cycled through different churches in pursuit of doctrinal purity. In that environment, my queerness had no safe harbor. It had to be hidden, managed, controlled — forced into secrecy.

Literal, cherry-popping closets.

Even my childhood discipline was carved straight from scripture — “spare the rod, spoil the child” was not metaphor but mandate. I was hit for defiance, for curiosity, for emotional honesty. Control was synonymous with love. The theology: obedience over empathy. Is it sad I would rather now have had a beating from my father, than his silence?

I would’ve taken the rod — at least it acknowledged me.

Instead, Daddy looks through me.

THE INHERITANCE And I obeyed. For a time, I rose through the ranks of the church. I led worship. I played guitar in the worship band. I wasn’t just a believer — I was a builder of belief, a conductor of chorus, a jester of jubilee and Sunday morning joy — all while masking a private ache I could not yet articulate.

In the last five years, I began methodically deconstructing the ideological scaffolding I had inherited. I examined the mechanisms of theology, patriarchy, and colonial imposition — and the specific burdens placed upon firstborn sons of immigrant families. Who defines our roles? Who benefits from our silence? Why is this happening to me?

These questions consistently pointed toward the dominant global structure: wealthy white patriarchal supremacy. Rooted in European imperialism and sustained by centuries of religious and cultural colonization, this system fractures not only societies but the deeply intimate architecture of family.

What my family experienced is not unlike what the United States of America continues to experience — a slow, painful reckoning with a foundational ideology of white, heteronormative, Christian patriarchal dominance.

My family comes from Kerala, home to one of the oldest Christian communities in the world. But the Christianity I inherited was not indigenous. It was filtered through the moral codes of Portuguese priests and British missionaries and the discipline of Victorian culture. Christ was not presented as a radical Middle Eastern teacher but as a sanitized figure — pale, passive, and Western.

In this theology, Christ is symbolic. Paul is the system. Doctrine exists to reinforce patriarchy, to police desire, to ensure control. When I embraced a theology rooted in love, empathy, and justice — the ethics I believe Jesus actually lived — I was met not with discussion, but dismissal.

To my family, my identity wasn’t authenticity. It was apostasy.

THE RECKONING In 2020, the ground shifted.

I turned the triple decade — 30 — as the COVID-19 pandemic erupted.

Remote work slowed life down, and I had space to think deeply.

That year, the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and countless others triggered a national and personal reckoning.

I turned to K-LOVE, the Christian radio station I grew up with, hoping to hear words of solidarity, truth, or even mourning. Instead, there was silence. No mention of racial justice. No prayers for the dead. Just songs about personal salvation, void of historical context or social responsibility.

As Geraldine Heng argues in The Invention of Race in the European Middle Ages, race was not merely a modern invention void of scientific basis — it was already taking shape in medieval Europe, where Christianity was used to sanctify, encode, and sell racial hierarchies as divine order and social technology.

As Ademọ́la, also known as Ogbeni Demola, once said: “The white man built his heaven on your land and pointed yours to the sky.” That brain-powered perceptive clarity — distilled in a single line — stays with me every day.

With professional routines interrupted and spiritual ties frayed, I immersed myself in scholarship. I entered what I now see as a period of epistemic reconstruction. I read widely — revolutionaries, poets, sociologists, historians, mathematicians, theologians, cultural critics, and the unflinching truth-tellers who name what empire tries to erase.

I first turned to the voices who now live only in memory: Bhagat Singh, James Baldwin, Frantz Fanon, bell hooks, Octavia Butler, Gloria Anzaldúa, and Vine Deloria Jr. Each carried the weight of revolution, tenderness, and truth — from anti-colonial struggle to queer theory to Indigenous reclamation.

I then reached for the veteran thought leaders still shaping the world, starting with Noam Chomsky, Naomi Klein, Shashi Tharoor, Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, Susan Visvanathan, Geraldine Heng, George Gheverghese Joseph, J. Sakai, Vijay Prashad, Vilna Bashi Treitler, Claire Jean Kim, and Arundhati Roy — voices who dismantle the illusions of empire through history, mathematics, linguistics, and racial theory.

In the present, I absorbed insights from a new generation of public intellectuals and cultural critics: Ta-Nehisi Coates, Jared Yates Sexton, Cathy Park Hong, Ibram X. Kendi, Nikole Hannah-Jones, Heather McGhee, Mehdi Hasan, Adrienne Keene, Keri Leigh Merritt, Vincent Bevins, Sarah Kendzior, Ayesha A. Siddiqi, Wajahat Ali, W. Kamau Bell, Mary Trump, & John Oliver. Together, they form a constellation of clarity — thinkers who gave me language for grief, strategy for resistance, and above all, a framework for empathy rooted in history, not abstraction.

I also turned to the thinkers shaping today’s cultural and political discourse. I dreamt of the world blueprinted by Bhaskar Sunkara in his revolutionary The Socialist Manifesto and plunged into Jacobin’s blistering critiques of capitalism. The Atlantic’s longform journalism kept me tethered to a truth-seeking tradition. The Guardian stood out for its global scale and reach, offering progressive, longform storytelling that speaks to both local injustices and systemic inequalities across the world. And Roman Krznaric’s Empathy: Why It Matters, and How to Get It helped crystallize my core belief:

Be a good human. Practice empathy.

That’s the playbook, America. Practice empathy. Do that — and teach accurate, critically reflective history — and we have the chance to truly become the greatest democracy the world has ever seen.

And this empathy must extend to all — especially to trans people. In India, the Hijra community — trans and intersex folk who have existed visibly for thousands of years — embody a sacred third gender long before the West had language for it. But they are not alone. Across the colonized world, the empire erased a sacred third space: the Muxe of Zapotec culture, the Bakla of the Philippines, the Fa’afafine of Samoa, the Two-Spirit nations of Turtle Island, the Māhū of Hawaiʻi, the Sworn Virgins of the Balkans — each of these communities held space outside Western gender binaries, rooted in care, ceremony, and spirit. Some align with what we today call trans or intersex, while others exist entirely outside Western definitions. Colonization reframed them as deviants.

And still, we must remember this: trans people are not new. Our respect for them must be as ancient as their existence.

THE RESISTANCE As I examined the dynamics of coloniality, racial capitalism, and Western empire, I realized just how deeply imperial power had shaped my family, our values, and our spiritual language. The empire didn’t just occupy land — it rewrote moral codes. It restructured the family.

I learned how Irish, Italian, Greek, Hungarian, and Albanian immigrants were initially excluded from whiteness in America. Over time, many adopted and embraced whiteness as strategic economic and social protection — and in doing so, embraced anti-Blackness and patriarchal hierarchies to maintain their newfound status. Today, many European-hyphenated Americans defend systems that once excluded them.

And over time, some Asian-Americans have followed the very same racial template.

At 33 — the age Jesus is believed to have died — I laid my childhood faith to rest. In its place rose something rooted in clarity, not doctrine.

I didn’t walk away from religion into cynicism or nihilism. I stepped into a humanist, justice-centered worldview. A system grounded in reason, evidence, and above all, empathy. A belief in people over dogma. In community over conformity.

I didn’t lose faith. I redefined it.

I left the pasture of institutional faith, not for chaos, but for an ethical wilderness — a space lacking divine command but filled with moral clarity. A place built on personal responsibility and universal dignity.

This is where I stand today.

To those with similar histories: if your roots trace back to Africa, South Asia, Southeast Asia, Central Asia, East Asia, the Middle East, Latin America, the Caribbean, Oceania, or to Indigenous and marginalized communities within the Global North — you are a Child of the Global South. Even in the Global North, your experience carries the weight of displaced geography, the quiet grief of colonial trauma, and a genealogy forged by the system of empire. Your pain is political. Your silence is inherited. You are not invisible. They buried you without a funeral. They mourned not your death, but your deviation from design. However, we are not dead. We are just no longer theirs.

White supremacy endures by fracturing us. It manufactures tensions between communities of color by design — placing Asian businesses in Black communities without infrastructure and opportunities for BIPOC folk to share and benefit from the economic engine. Central to this strategy is the model minority myth, crafted during the Cold War to present Asian-Americans as obedient, self-reliant, and successful — not to celebrate them, but to invalidate Black resistance and justify structural racism. It’s a myth that fosters anti-Blackness in Asian communities and xenophobia in Black ones, while shielding white supremacy from critique. These divisions are not cultural accidents; they’re colonial blueprints.

And these blueprints stretch across oceans and continents and time.

In colonial South Africa, Mohandas Gandhi — still shaped by British racial hierarchies — distanced Indians from Black Africans, calling them “kaffirs” and demanding separate facilities. In Uganda, the British installed South Asians as a merchant middle class between colonizers and native Africans, breeding distrust. When Idi Amin expelled 80,000 Asians in 1972, it was a violent backlash to a racial hierarchy seeded by empire. These fractures — between Black and Asian, colonized and sub-colonized — are the legacy of white patriarchal supremacy.

Divide, distract, and dominate.

We must resist being weaponized against each other.

Every Asian-American must read Minor Feelings by Cathy Park Hong. Every high schooler in America must read and discuss Jared Yates Sexton.

Study the systems. Name them. Disarm them.

Because unless we become and remain united, the status quo — one that serves wealthy cisgender, heterosexual, white Christian men — will remain intact.

This is A Call to the Children of the Global South. And An Invitation to the Children of the Global North: Stop the infighting. Study and interrogate the systems. Reject the design.

To those in media, publishing, and the arts: postcolonial narratives are not cultural sidebars. They are central to national healing. They preserve memory, restore dignity, and confront whitewashed histories.

If you want work that matters — support art that pushes past trauma into structural critique.

Greenlight truth. Platform memory. Choose courage over comfort.

Postcolonial stories should be the norm — not niche art.

Jordan Peele’s Get Out was a cinematic breakthrough — razor-sharp and genre-defying — in its exposure of white supremacy’s quiet machinery: liberal smiles, performative allyship, and the pacification of dissent through assimilation. The Sunken Place is not just a metaphor for silenced Black consciousness — it’s the empire’s preferred position for the marginalized: visible, exploited, but unheard.

A system that offers the illusion of inclusion, weaponizing identity as control.

Ken Levine’s BioShock Infinite exposed white supremacy through a dystopian, fictional but historically grounded lens - depicting the religious justification of Black enslavement, Indigenous erasure, and genocidal nationalism in a floating, evangelical empire.

David Simon’s The Wire exposed the institutional decay of law enforcement, education, and the legal system - revealing how systemic failure, not individual morality, drives urban collapse.

Jesse Armstrong’s Succession traced the architecture of empire through family - showing how media empires weaponize racism, propaganda, and manufactured outrage to generate profit and secure generational wealth.

Ava DuVernay's Origin unearths caste and race as twin blueprints of white supremacy - linking Dalit oppression in India to the subjugation of Black Americans. Adapted from Isabel Wilkerson's Caste, it dismantles the myth of isolated injustice, revealing a global system meticulously engineered to rank human worth - and the radical act of naming the system.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners — a revelatory, critically and commercially successful film about Afro-Asian resistance in 1930s Mississippi — exposes the hunger for speculative narratives grounded in historical truth.

Across the Spider-Verse gave us Pavitr Prabhakar - a Brown superhero who wasn't nerdy or celibate, as Western media typically portrayed the South-Asian man, but cool, smart, athletic, with great hair, in love, and proudly anti-colonial. He called out the British for stealing and keeping Indian artifacts… in a Spider-Man movie. That moment was history reclaimed.

A glitch in the wealthy white patriarchal matrix.

Dev Patel’s Monkey Man is a visceral fable of vengeance and resistance, where the brutality of caste, corruption, and religious nationalism collide. Amid this chaos, the film uplifts the Hijra community who stand not only as victims, but as warriors against systemic violence. Their alliance reframes queerness not as deviance, but as defiance — ultimately confronting the machinery of empire with what it fears most: a system-breaking empathy it cannot contain.

The vitriolic backlash from white male gamers and fandoms isn’t about quality — it’s about losing default status in stories. Everyone else has had to empathize with majority white male protagonists for decades. Diverse representation in media isn’t a threat to art — it’s a threat to white supremacy. It’s not just a mirror held up to the globe — it’s a refusal to let one worldview define it.

Hollywood, gaming studios, and the gatekeepers of entertainment — if you want to reclaim artistic integrity and still make money doing it, we need art that remembers, resists, and reclaims — stories that name the machine and short-circuit its lies. The world is ready. So am I.

Today, efforts like Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation, and the Federalist Society are not merely policy shops — they are ideological engines: built to roll back civil rights, impose authoritarian values, and erase uncomfortable truths. They represent a hyper-concentrated form of white supremacy, rooted in unresolved Civil War grievances and the failures of Reconstruction.

Miraculously, or perhaps, blessed with intellectual curiosity and natural empathy, through all of this, my wife — a compassionate, steadfast partner and a Christian woman — has remained by my side. She has witnessed my transformation with both love and complexity. While our bond is rooted in deep respect and shared values, our spiritual landscapes have diverged. Her faith brings her solace; mine has evolved into something more secular, grounded in justice and humanism. We’ve navigated that tension with care — proof that love can stretch across differing beliefs, even as the echoes of religious conditioning still ripple through our lives.

I am proud of her increasing intellectual curiosity and her willingness to accept me for who I am now, even if I wasn’t ready to accept myself when we met.

But our marriage has defied the splintering that white supremacy specifically creates: hyper-capitalist, hyper-individualistic, fractured families and societies.

As Children of the Global South — descendants of peoples who survived enslavement, colonization, and erasure — we carry within us the urgent need for stories that do not turn away from history, but confront it with unflinching truth.

In the pain of losing my family, I found a deeper purpose: to tell this story — and my own — any way I can. A sudden rush of empathy, pity, and love struck me: My parents’ and sister’s rejection was not theirs alone — it was a lingering Fracture left by colonization and global exploitation, tearing apart families across generations. As Children of the Global South, we still carry those wounds.

Make no mistake: white supremacy leaves wounds — because it is the system. And unless it is dismantled, both the Global South and North — and their collective Children — will remain trapped in a dance choreographed by empire — built to divide, exploit, and erase. Any vision of democracy, in America, will remain a fragile illusion — if not an outright mythology — built on a conceptually false foundation: white supremacy itself.

A cruel, heartbreaking legacy of erasure — passed down through empire — indoctrinating God-fearing Brown fathers to erase their godless, queer Brown sons. Preaching shame as scripture. Teaching silence as survival.

I reject that inheritance.

Empathy as praxis is how we reject that inheritance. In a world engineered to divide, it rebuilds connection, disarms supremacy, and charts a path forward. If humanity is to survive — let alone heal — empathy must become our collective discipline.

And perhaps what cut even deeper for my father — beyond my queerness — was that I no longer validated his role as a pastor. In stepping away from the faith he had built his life upon, I wasn’t just rejecting a belief system. I was, in his eyes, nullifying his life’s work. For a man shaped by empire, ordained by colonial Christianity, and burdened with the role of moral gatekeeper, my departure from his manufactured worldview may have landed as personal failure. But it wasn’t. It was never about wanting to hurt him. I love my father. I love my mother. I love my sister. It was never about them — it was about the system that taught them love was conditional, acceptance required obedience, and dissent unforgivable. That kind of pain is real — but its source is systemic. I still want to be Mootha Makkan — not by obedience, but by truth. By love without condition. Not through erasure, but by living fully in the open. Not in their image, but in mine.

Yet, and yes, I also carry the wound — but I also carry the will to heal it.

THE CALL I believe in empathy. I believe in memory. I believe the Children of the Global South are not broken. We are not rejected. We are awakening.

Children of the Global North: join us. We are not your enemies. We are your present and future collaborators, business & creative partners, lovers, and kin. We are building something new — something ancient yet reawakened, a pursuit of empathy, and a reckoning with history that refuses to forget.

If this story resonated with you, kindly share it, spread the word and please comment. I’d love to hear from you. Your voice, your memory, your Fracture — it matters here.

You are not alone. All are welcome.

Thank you so, so much for your time in reading my story.

You can also email me directly: vinesvenus at protonmail.com I'll be writing more on Medium as well: https://medium.com/@vinesvenus/a-call-to-the-children-of-the-global-south-the-system-that-made-my-father-disown-me-fecad6c0b862

[onehellofashipper]

I can never just listen to one Bach piece, I always have to listen to more after I finish the first one

[thewisemankey]

Well played!

[olderthannetfic]

I was reading a fic and genuinely enjoying myself up until the author decided to make a huge deal, in their AN, about how their protagonist is bi. As in ACTUALLY bi, not that stupid "straight with one exception" trash homophobic fujoshits write. I'm a cis man. I am heterosexual with exactly one exception. I don't know why. I went through years telling myself I was just confused. I heard from my queer friends at the time that only being interested in one other man wasn't a thing, that it was actually me being confused in the other direction, hiding all my crushes and desires from myself.

My family was convinced I was straight. My friends were convinced I was bi for a lot of men, I just wasn't admitting it. My now husband was the only one who told me it was fine. He's gay and he had a crush on one woman, once. Exceptions happen.

So at the risk of siding with the dreaded (presumed cis, presumed het, presumed white) enemy known as women, I... actually like the whole "if it's you, it's okay" thing. I don't assume an evil fetishizer who hates queers is writing it. It never reads that way. It reads as a story, just like any other story. A way to be queer just like any other valid option. Queerness is a spectrum. Not everyone is bi in the same way or gay or lesbian or anything else. The Kinsey Scale exists for a reason.

I spent five years in and out of therapy and church trying to fix myself. Being bi in any way was too much for my family. It was "get rid of the gay or get out" territory of panic. I could have a family or I could have my feelings for him. Choosing him involved giving up everyone I had grown up with. It involved years further of "so you can admit now that you had other male crushes, right?" no matter how many times I said no until I had to cut some queer friends out of my life, too.

And I'm not "ACTUALLY bi", apparently. I'm a trashy homophobic stereotype fujoshi came up with. I'm not actually bi. Real bi men have an equal number of women and men they're into. Bi is code for 50/50 or else you're, you know. Basically fictional. Definitely doing it wrong.

Upon some digging, I found out the writer is a lesbian woman. You would think with all the shit lesbians get she'd know better. I've seen people try to tell lesbians they aren't lesbians because "oh you dated a guy once" or "uh, you had sex with a man, you can't be" and all kind of shit that makes no sense whatsoever. So for her to turn around and go, "there is a single correct way to be a bi man" is just insane. Ma'am. Ma'am. You should know that's not how queerness works! You're queer!

This has annoyed me so much that for the first time in nine years I have pulled up a Microsoft Word document and I am writing fanfic. I am going to write so much It's Okay If It's You, one-exception-only queer fanfic.

Because it's fine to be queer even if it's this way, actually. It's fine to be queer, period! There are not rigid rules to it, that's one of the biggest joys of it!

I feel so old and tired and I'm only 40. Jesus Christ. "ACTUALLY bi". Fuck. The world is broken.

--

[borninwinter81]

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore. 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍

[velvetdolor]

Green light | choi san

genre: pt. ii of my drabble series, i give my first love to you. this is san’s ending. memoir, drabble, very light suggestiveness, fluff. it’s complicated

͙͘͡★ pairing: new boyfriend! san x reader x first love! wooyoung

͙͘͡★ w.c: 955

͙͘͡★ summary: wooyoung may have given him his first love, but san’s never going to give her back to him.

͙͘͡★ or a mini drabble series beginning with an unsent love letter. I crafted two endings for the first drabble and to provide some vague insight for the characters relationships— but one of the endings is based in an alternate universe. you, dearest reader, are free to choose who to love and what universe is entirely yours—and what almost was.

͙͘͡★ previous: i give my first love to you. pt.i drabble

͙͘͡★ next: wooyoung’s ending [the last time]

Sometimes you don’t end up with your soulmate in this universe and that’s okay. There’s power in knowing that the love you held in your palms today was a love you’d chosen from your own volition and not the binding strings of fate—as irresistible as they were.

San was everything Wooyoung wasn’t. Selfish, all consuming, pensive, and irrational at times—but he understood your depth because it reflected his own. It’s never easy choosing someone. To wake up everyday, and conquer the joys and sorrows of everyday life, and choose them. Every. Single. Day.

And despite the fact that unlike Wooyoung, San would argue back and it’d result in an intense screaming match from time to time— a rough closing of a door with San mumbling into the air “Jesus Christ, why is that woman so stubborn?” and you’d huff at his audacity. He would always end up cooking your favorite meal on days like that, albeit clumsily, leaving the kitchen with shoddily patched on band aids because of his (lack of) knife skills, and the tiny clunk on your desk would alert you of his arrival. San didn’t have smoothness in his words and he’d stutter each time an overwhelming emotion tried to leave him verbally unless it were rage, but he never held you harshly.

He’d tie your shoes for you since you were bad at it, pick you up from work after his twelve hour shift, once you’d clock out at 3AM without complaint, or restock your shelf of pads every time he knew your period was coming. You didn’t know how he’d always get it right until you’d accidentally saw a period tracking app on his phone, finding your exact dates. When you asked him about it he only shrugged, saying that it’d help the both of you if you were happy.

He hated when you wore short skirts, often skirting behind you in public searching for any straggling eyes so that he could bulge his own at them in silent intimidation. He was cranky in the mornings and hated when you woke him up, and hated it even more when you’d walk away after forgetting to kiss him which would then result in him wrapping a strong around your hips to pull you into him on his own.

San was intense. He held a strength in his eyes that you’d never seen on anyone else’s before and he was everything Wooyoung wasn’t. He didn’t have that soft glamour to him, didn’t drape his love onto you softly in the morning sun, wasn’t the most approachable man you’ve met by far, and was a far, far gleam from Wooyoung’s gentleness— Wooyoung who was all pearl-like shimmer, trailing hands, stroking at the halo of your bed of hair to ask and make sure that you’re taking him alright before he could finally cave to his own desires.

San was a midnight hand, clutching into you without pause, and knew that you could handle the storms he’d gather because they were yours too. He too was a knife of a boy, somehow dulling himself against your own sharpness—but there was no changing that there were times you’d be aware that you were two weapons in one room. He knew where to hurt you but he also knew where not to hurt you.

San never hurt you where he knew it’d hurt too much, and he knew one of those places were Wooyoung’s. Which is why despite his typically crass and possessive nature, he cradled you without asking why you’d said Wooyoung’s name three times in your sleep.

He knew you dreamt of joy and that it scared you.

He understood because he was scared too. Scared to be happy with you, despite how sharp your edges were—scared to hurt you with his own but that somehow could never stop him from wanting to hold you closer, even if that meant piercing through you both in the process. He knew he was selfish and that he’d never be selfless enough to let you go and wander off back to someone he knew was your soulmate. If he had one, she’d be left to the back burner because he chose you.

He loved you bloody, but he was a bruised hand waiting to fight for you—all you had to do was say that one word, that one phrase.

To tell him you loved him and maybe he’d be brave enough to give you the entirety of his world even if it weren’t much. He’d give you his hours, his life, his unwavering loyalty, and stand before you to point his knife of a body outwards to protect you with his entirety.

He wasn’t rich or ambitious, and didn’t come from a good family but he’d give you everything he had, and all he had was his frightened heart.

Wooyoung may have kept you in another universe,

But not this one.

In this universe, San is cooking curry and accidentally pricking his fingers in the process—scurrying to carry the hot bowl to you when he forgot to wear mittens on his way there. He’s tracking your period so he could know when it comes to grab chocolate and overnight pads, but also so that if you’re ever ready to build a home with him—the one you both never had growing up, he’d know when to get started because he knew when you’re ovulating. (LOL)

You just needed to give him the green light.

San thinks to himself the night you’d finally walked the cautious last stretch and told him you loved him

“Wooyoung, you may have given your first love to me—but I’m keeping her and never giving her back to you.”

Sorry man. Not in this universe.

͙͘͡★

siren’s note: so i couldn’t handle the grief and ambiguity that i’d concocted with i give my first love to you, so i made it a little three part drabble series.

this is san’s ending, which is happening in this universe. but i may or may not be releasing a wooyoung ending too…

however, it’s based on an alternate universe— so i’m leaving it up to the readers to decide which universe they’re in/is canon to them. there’s no wrong answer, just the bitter and the sweet.

i’m literally insane because i wrote several chapters for different series at a creative high and somehow made this too. i’m fried bruh

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp Complete guidebook questions and answers about the Alicein household.

The guidebook has many questions and it will take a while to translate them, so, here's just a fewand I chose the ones that are about the Alicein family.

To avoid spoilers, I'm not translating them in order and I wrote the ones I consider spoilers towards the end of the post, mentioning what chapter you should know before reading them.

In regard to the majority of questions, you should be familiar with volumes 3-4.

Let me know if the way I'm writing these translations is okay because I don't want people to get spoiled.

Q1: Will Misono grow taller?

A: He will.

Q2: How old was Misono when he made the contract with Lily?

A: He was 9 years old.

Q3: What was the name given to Lily by Mikage?

A: When Mikage passed away, the name was lost.

Q4: Did Mikado-san ever thought of inheriting the vampire of lust?

A: He probably did when he was a child, but it seems like he lost the desire for it around the time he got married.

Q5: What did Mikado feel about Mikuni while he was cast out of his home? It feels a bit sad to think that his love was only directed towards Misono…

A: It’s not that he didn’t have love for Mikuni, but I think, deep down, he was somewhat afraid of Mikuni, who had the eyes of a child that could see right through people.

Q6: I personally think Mikado-san is quite a terrible person, but what did the members of the Alicein family think of him?

A: They see him as a weak-minded person. However, since they also know that he has been a hard worker since childhood, they can’t bring themselves to speak too badly of him.

Q7: Did Mikado-san know that Mikuni was part of C3? Also, how many years was Mikuni in C3?

A: Yes, he knew and had even requested protection for Mikuni. Mikuni was in C3 for about three years.

Q8 is at the end of the post.

Q9: What was the name that Mikuni's mother gave Doubt Doubt?

A: When she died, that name was lost forever.

Q10: Does Mikuni's mother's family know about the Alicein family incident and Misono?

A: They’ve been informed to some extent.

Q11: Did Mitsuki-chan and Dodo go to school?

A: Dodo went up to high school and Mitsuki went all the way to college.

Q12 is at the end of the post.

Q13: What kind of business does the Alicein family publicly run? A: They are involved in the trade industry.

Q14: How many servants are there in the Alicein family’s mansion? A: Currently, there are about 20 people.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 125 and 127!

Q8: I thought everything had a reason and that I understood it all, but as someone without a musical ear, the only thing that kept bothering me was, what song Mikuni's mother's music box was playing.

A: "Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring" by Bach. It's a piece often played around Christmas, featuring a series of triplets.

(Note, in Japanese it says "3"を連符の続く. The number 3 is emphasized most likely because Jeje is the third Servamp.)

Q12: It seems that Mikuni's mother was betrothed, but are marriages between magicians common?

A: Yes, they are quite common.

[arcenciel-par-une-larme]

Why do you worship a god who seems to hate you so much? Why do you worship a god who wants to prevent you from doing things that bring you pleasure, who cuts you off from other gods, and who says you're wrong the way you are and that you have to change for him? Jesus sounds abusive. None of my gods would ever do something like that to me. The main goddess I worship is Hel and she's really nice to me, she gives me hugs, and encourages me to engage in my desires and follow my ambitions. There are better gods for you to worship, you don't have to hate yourself or harm yourself.

Why do you worship a god who seems to hate you so much?

And how do you know He hates me, exactly?

Why do you worship a god who wants to prevent you from doing things that bring you pleasure

Such as?

In reality, so far in my life, the main factor who has insisted on barring me from things that bring me real pleasure and joy has been man, and not God. It is they, with their ever-changing standards, double-mindedness, and hypocrisy, which create more obstacles to my happiness than God or nature ever have.

Or does it so happen that, by "pleasure", you mean drunkenness, lasciviousness, arrogance, vanity, ambition, fornication, and the seeking of power? If so, I urge you to reconsider.

who cuts you off from other gods

Religion is comprised fundamentally of truth claims, and it is not merely some sort of "expansion pack" for life with a set of moral rules and aesthetics. If the Christian God is real, then the truth claims of Allah, Shiva, Zeus, and Amaterasu (to name but a few) are necessarily false, and to refrain from their worship is not something to be imposed upon me but rather a rational course of action.

and who says you're wrong the way you are and that you have to change for him?

This is an oversimplification on the Christian theology of sin (funny how, ever so conveniently, any mention of the Imago Dei and the purpose of man in Christianity is completely absent from your sermonette!), most importantly in that it views the Christian life as a practice of behavioural modification and rule-following, and misconstrues Christian ethics as being based upon deontology. In reality, the Christian faith is based upon virtue ethics, and this means (long story short) not that we "change [our behaviour] in order to be accepted by God", but rather that our adoption by God and the indwelling of the Holy Ghost enables us to be transformed fundamentally from the heart (Rom. 12:1-2), and any changes in behaviours, attitudes, thought patterns etc. are the natural result of this transformation.

By the way, it might be interesting for you to know that the concept of man being in some way wrong before the divine is part and parcel of practically every religion which exists, even those (like Buddhism) which do not posit any kind of personal deity. As far as I know, the only religious system which does not fit this description is the thoroughly postmodern American invention of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, which I (pardon me) consider a pathetic excuse for a religion, which cannot adequately aspire to greatness or virtue, much less humility.

Jesus sounds abusive. None of my gods would ever do something like that to me.

Citation needed, times two.

The main goddess I worship is Hel and she's really nice to me, she gives me hugs, and encourages me to engage in my desires and follow my ambitions.

As in, the sister of Fenrir and Jörmungandr? The most implacable goddess of the Norse pantheon? The living embodiment of Memento Mori? Well...forgive me for having some scepticism about what a soft and huggly pal she is -- your spiritual forefathers would most probably contradict you on this your claim. Methinks also that she would probably...NOT be very "inclusive" of belief systems like mine -- do ask her and her ancient worshippers how they feel about a God who created mankind in His own image, who became incarnate as a poor baby in a backwater district of an empire, as the lowliest of the low, who was subject to the most dishonourable death imaginable for the sake of poor ordinary people like you and me, who defeated death himself, who will one day raise all the dead, and who wants poor ordinary people like you and me to turn to Him so we can become His sons and daughters, and so He can one day reward poor ordinary people like you and me (not great warriors and heroes worthy of Valhalla, for the most part!) with the privilege of living with Him forever without sin in a Kingdom where we will inherit and govern the Earth.

But if what you say about her is true, things are no better for your argument. If you insist that (in effect) all she does for you is affirm you in everything that you do and to indulge and every desire and ambition that enters your heart, then either you are a sinless person with no evil or selfish desires whatsoever (teach us, o master!) or she is an untrustworthy and deceptive patron who sees evil in your heart and still knowingly encourages you to entertain it.

There are better gods for you to worship, you don't have to hate yourself or harm yourself.

It is no question of trying out different gods to see which is better -- "better" in what sense, for that matter? Gods are not clothes that you order from Temu and can swap or abandon as per necessity. YHVH, Yeshua His Christ, and the Holy Ghost, is my God because the Christian religion is true, not because He "serves me best" in some way or another. C. S. Lewis has put it way better than I ever could (this is from Mere Christianity, and I guarantee that you would find it a riveting book):

Of course, I quite agree that the Christian religion is, in the long run, a thing of unspeakable comfort. But it does not begin in comfort; it begins in the dismay I have been describing, and it is no use at all trying to go on to that comfort without first going through that dismay. In religion, as in war and everything else, comfort is the one thing you cannot get by looking for it. If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end: if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth— only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin with and, in the end, despair. Most of us have got over the prewar wishful thinking about international politics. It is time we did the same about religion.

Yes, I know that the Christian life is not easy; but I can assure you that it is good, and that the God of Abraham and Isaac and David and Peter and Paul and Mary and Chrysostom and Irenaeus and Hildegard and Cecelia and Benedict and Bernard and Bach and Wilberforce and Newton and Watts has not only convicted me and cleansed me of sin and unrighteousness, but also used my obedience to Him to bring me forth to places where I would never have imagined myself. I have seen Christ's love in practice in my life, even though I in my frailty sometimes forget His goodness, and project the evils of men upon His face. But there is no better proof of that love than that He really did vouchsafe to become incarnate, to live in strife, to die on Calvary, even for me (and for you BTW!), even when I was living in sin and wickedness (Rom. 5:8), and rise again on the third day, and intercede for me before the throne of Almighty God -- with apologies to Mrs. Hel, she surely cannot outbid that; neither can Allah, nor Shiva, nor Amaterasu, nor Zeus, nor Hestia, nor Baldur, nor Quetzalcoatl.

God bless you,

A.

[ieatchromebooks]

i cannot put into words how fucking embarrassing it is that most of my comfort characters are also characters i think are hot. now what do you MEAN i wanna rearrange zappa guilty gear’s guts?? why can’t i just look at him and smile and giggle without thinking abt bending him over. he’s cute yeah don’t get me wrong but jesus man. i can count the amount of times i’ve drawn him with his pants on with one hand. the autism is strong but so is the libido.

i don’t know WHAT higher power thought this would be funny. like yeah sure i guess i do think avery pokemon is hot! sure man! cool! he’s not just blorbo to me or whatever he’s a slutty boytoy malewife! yep mhm! do you not understand how annoying this is. i went to the doctor and i got a note that says “you are NOT NORMAL!” like in dream’s mask music video. i understand porn addicts and gooners but at what cost. i never wanted this to be the case i think i’d rather turn into dust.

no, brain, i wouldn’t like to desire this character carnally today thank you. yes i do get joy from thinking abt tying up a funny guy to a bed (consensually) and whimpering, forgive my crudeness, but i would muuuuch rather be like. normal about it, y’know? like to just giggle and kick my feet. not to giggle, kick my feet, and immediately open up a blank canvas on ibis. not saying it gets hard to focus or anything i’m able to control what i focus on pretty alright but damn is it distracting. i would like it to be comfort only sometimes. even if it is kinda funny to be so down bad about a fictional british guy with a funny voice and a funny joyous charismatic personality. it’s so fucking pathetic !!!! and not in the sexy way !!!!!!!!

tl;dr i want to fistfight god for making me so horrendously down bad for some of the blorbos from my games

[shenzi-hemlock]

hey girl(?)! I love your posting of religious content and that you are unashamed to be religious even amid such a secular society. I was wondering where you stand morally speaking on homosexuality/gender politics? I know it's a complex issue within the scope of religion but I would love to hear your thoughts on it as someone who is religious but doesn't necessarily have an easy time processing how religion should interact with societal issues in general?

Sorry for not answering this one right away, I’ve been mulling over some topics and readying myself to explain them. Ok, here we go!

Thank you! I try first and foremost to be a Christian and let everything else follow. For some people, that puts them off and they would rather not be around me. It happens and it’s fine. I can’t force them to be a Christian or to like me.

So to have that lead into the main topic here, where do Christians stand on homosexuality/gender politics?? Well it’s very clearly detailed in the Bible. Homosexuality is a sin, period. There are a lot of people that will claim that the Greek word for “homosexuality” isn’t talking about two adult men but is warning against an adult man sleeping with a young boy. This particular translation has been debunked on more than one occasion and it does mean “homosexuality” as in two males having sexual relations with each other. The Bible does not endorse pedophilia but verses talking about two men laying together or men giving themselves up to unnatural and sinful desires are very loud and clear that homosexuality is a sin which goes against God’s design. God instituted marriage (and this all sexual acts) to be within the covenant of one man and one woman. No more, no less, no different.

As for gender politics, I’ll put here what I put in my other post, we are fearfully and wonderfully made. God, the creator of the universe and its planets, the God who composed physics and taught His galaxies to dance, the God who cultivated the tallest tree and tiniest flower, He knit you in your mother’s womb. He knows everything about you. Every fear, every joy, every lie, every truth. And He loves you. God does not make mistakes.

So just based off this, I can very firmly conclude that we are not to mutilate ourselves in order to feel better in our skin. We already are in the best body we will ever have. Specifically, transgender is a mental illness and it needs to be treated as such. Depression, anxiety, bipolar, schizophrenia, all of these are treated as a mental illness. Could you imagine how worse off all these folks would be if instead of getting actual medical and psychological care, they were instead told there was nothing wrong with them and to not only continue living a delusion but actively encouraged to feed into it?

Suicide rates in the transgender community are extremely high. That is a direct consequence of encouraging that mental illness instead of directing them to the proper clinics/physicians to get the help they need.

So we’ve got both of those out of the way. Next, I should touch on what you said about being religious and how that interacts with societal issues.

I am a Christian because I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. None come to the Father except through Him. I am not a Christian because my parents expect it or because it’s just how I was raised. I have a personal relationship with Christ in which He called me by name and saved me. Jesus shapes the way I look at not only myself but every other person on this planet. He informs my every decision and directs me to follow His Word. If you agree with this, then that leads to my next point.

Jesus is our priority in life and everything else comes after Him. And when I say everything, I mean truly, absolutely, *everything*. Jesus comes before my parents, before my siblings, before my husband, before my friends, before everyone else and everything else. That is how I view societal issues. Jesus comes first. Because God is a God of love, that will inform and direct me in how I interact with the world at large. Sometimes, love is tough and wants the best for you. Sometimes people don’t like what is best for them. Sometimes, a lot of times, they want what is easy.

Putting Jesus first is hard. It’s an everyday challenge. But when I put Him first, that allows me to look at issues like homosexuality and transgenderism through the lens of Christ. It is a sin to lust after someone of the same sex just as lust is a sin for people of the opposite sex. It is a sin to try and permanently change or destroy your body and say that God was wrong. You do not live a life led by Christ and decide to mutilate yourself.

But there is always hope. Christ is King. He has won. No matter what you have done, no matter how evil you think you are, no matter how lost you feel, no matter how much you have put Him down, Christ still wants to have you home. And so do I.