sabo-tabby; ink and watercolor
last seventeen day’s listening:
taylor swift - the tortured poets department: the anthology
fantômas - book 1 sketches
worse off - over, thinking
suicide machines - battle hymns
juliana hatfield/emma swift - split 7”
7 seconds - live at cindy’s 1980
your heart breaks - sailor system
your heart breaks - the wrack line
maäsk - eclipse of man
juliana hatfield - how to walk away
various - new folks
the chicks - wide open spaces
atom and his package - redefining music
worse off - you win some, you lose… a lot
various - dr. demento’s delights
worriers - warm blanket
cast iron hike - the salmon drive
faith - live at cbgbs, december 26, 1981
eater - all of eater
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Soon everyone was worse off.
"Why the West Rules – For Now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future" - Ian Morris
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I don’t know if there really is any science behind workout routines separated by sex, but even if there is benefit to doing exercise “for women” i don’t give a shit. and i will intentionally seek out guides made For Men. because by and large, this is how the different video thumbnails shake out
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Love a self-inflicted time loop. The main character isn’t trapped. They can stop whenever they want. But how can they when things aren’t perfect yet? They can do better than this. They need to try again. They can get it right this time. They just need to try again. They can stop anytime they want. Just one more time. They can fix this. They just need to try again. There are still things to fix. They just need to try again.
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i remember ages ago i did a poll on here that was a basic "if you had guarenteed income would you still choose to have a job?" and i was so shocked at how many people said yes. like i couldnt fathom how people would choose to go out every day just because they like having something to do and genuinely say they feel fulfilled by it.
...anyways it turns out if you, like me, consider the mere thought of work to be torture both physically and mentally, no matter how well it pays, you may in fact be experiencing "symptoms" of a "disorder", and should, perhaps, "talk" to your "doctor" ,
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"Bring back cunty F1" "Bring back F1 drivers who don't care about PR and just say what they think" "Bring back F1 where the drivers are actually allowed to be rivals"
You fools. You insolent buffoons. You can't handle the Ferrari drivers taking shots at each other in separate interviews. You can't handle Max saying what everyone else is thinking. You can't even handle Lando Norris existing. And you think you would survive watching Multi-21 happen in real time? Or, God forbid, classic F1? I'm laughing.
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a giraffe; ink and watercolor
last ten day’s listening:
hammered hulls - hammered hulls
youth of today - can’t close my eyes
orchid - totality
cock sparrer - bloody minded… the best of
worse off - over, thinking
beach boys - pet sounds
taylor swift - tortured poets department (the anthology)
juliana hatfield and frank smith - sittin’ in a tree
the weakerthans - fallow
skud - demo
a tribe called quest - the anthology
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DC x DP Idea
After several years, Danny and Damian meet each other again at a gala. But there was no heartfelt reunion since the moment they led eyes on each other it was all-out war. Damian takes out a sword from somewhere and Danny just starts throwing hands.
The fighting is intense, and blood is being spilled (what are those glowing green specks?). They are screaming at each other in Arabic as it's easier to slip back to your mother tongue when in rage right? This makes the fight more personal.
Most people don't understand what they're saying but those who do look at the boys then Bruce. Bruce then back to the boys again. Like B, we know you're stupid but you fucked this person twice.... did you NOT see the red flags the SECOND TIME!?!?
The fight ends with Damian on the ground with the sword grazing his neck. He looks up to Danyal with the fear of god in his eyes, knowing that with one swift movement, he'll be dead on the dance floor. But Danny's eyes were cold and tired, they were dead. No spark, no sense of life in those chilling blue depths.
Calmly, Danny spoke to Damian. His voice was crystal clear, cool like a mountain stream.
"Just because you jumped into the fire behind me doesn't mean you felt the pain I did. Your hand was held above the flames while I was being burnt in the fucking fire."
Damian begins to cry because he knows that Danny is right. No matter what he went through, it would never compare to what happened to his big brother. Even more so, when he feels long lanky arms wrap around him, a cool hand rubbing his back soothingly, and whispers of sweet nothingness entering his ears.
He cries because no matter what he does he will never be like his big brother.
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happy pride month from our silliest goofy goober pretty boy bicon tim robin drake
dont like how it turned out but need to move on to other things
so have an unfinished ref sheet of timmers
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