whatawonderfulvoid

[whatawonderfulvoid]

BUREAUCRACY NEVER ACCOUNTED FOR THE FENCE SITTERS LIKE US (a poem)

The lobby we’ve been sent to is old and from the pages of a comic book I’ve never read. It is empty in here except for two infinitely long queues of people.

On the left (mine and yours), the sign asks to FALL IN LOVE. These people are loudly violent. They wrestle, fuck and play Jenga. This line believes that there is a winner in the person who can suffer the worst loss.

On the right (yours as well as mine), the placard suggests that we should BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. They all sing on this side. Sailors’ songs. Church camp ditties. All in 4-part harmony. All dead certain of their cheeriness. An acrobat is playing pattycake with a quarterback.

Hand in hand, we choose neither side. We cut down the middle of the thought experiment. You say something I cannot hear properly because now we are in a jungle.

I hang upside down from a branch untouched by moss. While you take a turn on the vines up ahead. Below me, the LOVE line squirms. Under and over each root in their path. They have made an artform out of writhing in shit and mud and treasure hunter’s shame.

In the distance, you are talking shop with a jaguar. A scene backlit by camera flashes. The RELATIONSHIP line is full of tourists. They are dawdling. Seeing the sights like it’s all bought and paid for. Some are polite enough to pass around a rare and deadly spider. Everyone gets the chance to be bitten.

I join you in a quiet sunlit canopy and you hand me a mango. We sink our teeth and dribble sweet juice from our chins to our snow-covered boots. An icy wind whistles and whips through the mountains. You pass me back the binoculars and point out a particular snow bank to the East.

The RELATIONSHIP crowd are roped together now, moving single file and slowly. Their route seems safe enough. But they struggle hard and struggle long. No slips can be afforded. If one goes down, then all must fall – more prey for the shimmering cliff face.

On the other side of the ravine, those in LOVE have made themselves an avalanche. They scream and holler. Thermals are stripped and waved in praise of their violently vomited snowdeath. Disciples of hypothermia – they throw echoes like punches at the mountain’s churning gut.

I wonder about how to follow. How we might keep deserving them. You just return to climbing our own peak. I wait a moment before digging my hand into your former foothold. As the clouds part around us, We startle a flock of pigeons roosting on a billboard.

The evening is clear. The city glows unabashedly. We are ninety storeys up. But neither of us know the building’s name. Or the street it’s on. Or the city it towers over. Below us, there is noise. There is movement. People. There is always people. But from this high, there is no way of telling who will FALL IN LOVE, who will BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. Who walks in between as we did. As we still do.

For the billionth time since our first meeting, we smirk gently at each other. Together, we clutch the ledge. We lean out over the night’s fresh confusion. And we spit chewing gum at people.

[whatawonderfulvoid]

The most romantic anti-romance poem I’ve ever written..?

[whatawonderfulvoid]

What We Do On Our Anti-Date (a 21 word poem)

Wait ‘til midnight

Write a play

Give lame advice

Pick new names

Fuck the moon

Confess to solitude

Swear to live

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For those wondering, when I say “Fuck the moon”, I do literally mean getting all kinds of intimate with that sweet sweet space rock🌕😎😋 (I apologise for nothing)

[whatawonderfulvoid]

[whatawonderfulvoid]

A poetical monologue inspired by the painting ‘Dance Me To The End Of Love’ by Jack Vettriano. 

Transcript: Life has a bad habit of asking us who our partner is. Apparently, no one can know themselves until they’ve found someone to dance with. Who are you? Me? I dance with him. Who’s that? Well, she dances with her. But we all know that she’ll eventually partner with him. Course, a few people WILL dance on their own. But they’re still expected to wear the suit or the gown. There’s no exceptions. Everyone knows the ballroom is an illusion. Everyone can see the all-consuming smoke. Everyone grows wary of the problematic sun. But we all dance, I guess. We all get dressed up as one or the other. We gamble. We place our bets. Taking chances on a partner or partners or anti-partner rebellion. That’s living, right? That’s how you find yourself. An endless dance party that no one dares to question. All of us pretending it’s the best thing ever. Is that ok? I’m asking you now, Stranger. We all start as strangers, don’t we? To ourselves and the world. We start as strangers, but when does that stop? When we start dancing? That’s what we’re told. Is that ok? Is it ok with you stranger? I don’t know if I feel ok. I see you, like me, not quite ready to dance. I see you, like me, ill-fitted for suit or gown. The gown is too far from the suit. But the suit is not enough like the gown. And I see you, like me, watching these dancers SEEM happy. Moving through their shared dream space. Fading away without a care. It seems scary to me. Is that the dream you want to see, stranger? I mean, where is the line between 'seeming’ and 'dreaming’? I guess it doesn’t matter much, if you’re too busy dancing. Hey, stranger. I have a problem. I think I want to dance with you. But if you’re as strange a stranger as I think you are, as I feel I might be; then the dance is not for us. Is there another way that we could move together? I only ask for dancing because it’s all I’ve ever seen. Until I saw you. And I knew that I was trapped like you. So little we can do. What they taught us as dancing, we learned as shame. I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you. And you’ll hurt me. Stranger. They’ve made dangers of us. Why…? I don’t know you, stranger. Imagine that. I don’t know if what I see in you, you’ve noticed in me. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the dance IS for you. Maybe I’ve just dreamt that you’re someone to wake up to. But if you’re real and if I’m real, I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to kill you, kill me, kill us both with dancing. Right now, I’m just happy I see you. I’m happy there’s someone who might see me too. Right now, I guess I’ll just say: “Hey, Stranger. I love you.”

[whatawonderfulvoid]

1 Life Lesson For Every Year That Failed To Beat Me

You know what I’m looking forward to next year? Having the time to record/edit things properly 😬 

 So yeah, as I say in the video, I recently turned 25 (not that recently, so no birthday wishes required or desired thank you). And I actually felt something more significant with 25 than I had with milestones like 18 or 21. Partly because, for a long time, I always thought of it as the age when your brain is fully grown. And I think that scared me. Like it felt like a deadline to get my shit together mental health wise. Or be forever cursed with an unhinged mind. Of course, I now know that’s not really how it works. But even if it was, I’m still pretty happy with where I’m at with my grey matter. 

How does that relate to whatever this is? Haven’t the foggiest, to be honest. I wanted to post something on my b'day, but wasn’t really feeling it at the time. Then later I had this idea, thought people might appreciate it. Although, now having made it, I’m pretty sure this was really for my benefit; self-validation and what-have-you. But if anyone else can take something away from it, then dopamine😎 

Apologies if the subtitles are a bit janky. First time doing them like this. And as previously alluded to, I’ve been so slammed with work lately that I rushed the production far more than I’m really ok with.😒 If you don’t relate or agree with any of these ‘lessons’, I’m not judging or attacking you. These are just things that help me make sense of life. 

Please let me know in comments which lessons you resonate with.😋

[whatawonderfulvoid]

‘the quirkyalone in us’ - a poem

“Quirkyalone” - someone who prefers to be single; is open to relationships but chooses not to actively date just for the sake of being in a couple. This piece is loosely inspired by the film 'Only Lovers Left Alive’. I’ve always really clicked with the idea that immortality allows for a functioning relationship where both partners live separately from each other for long periods of time. [Image: 'Cosmic Energy’ by Remedios Varo] I hope the image isn’t too distracting. Remedios Varo is my absolute favourite painter. And her paintings are just too good to cover up.

[whatawonderfulvoid]

IT HAPPENED TO ME: I Waited Until My Wedding Night to Lose My Virginity and I Wish I Hadn’t [x]

This is a long read but it’s interesting. Really sad though.

[whatawonderfulvoid]

‘dudebabe’ - a queerplatonic term of endearment

‘Queerplatonic pride’ print now available at my Redbubble store

Inspired by this post

…maybe buy one for your dudebabe? 😉

[whatawonderfulvoid]

Happy Arospec Awareness Week!

‘I’m Not Flirting. You Just Can’t Handle The Banter.’ - Print available at my Redbubble store.

[whatawonderfulvoid]

Quoiromantic flag design print now available on Redbubble

Leading up to ASAW 2020; please buy and/or share my Quoiromantic flag design print from my Redbubble store!

[whatawonderfulvoid]

On “Monogamy”

The other day, in the midst of some anti-monogamy critique (that was described to a baby anarchist as “pushing the envelope”), someone asked me what I meant by “monogamy”. I ended up spelling it out in a lot of detail.

TLDR:  

Monogamy is the framework that constructs people-as-property (with all its implications) as well as the structuring of society around “couples”. 

The one-and-only one aspect of romantic/sexual relationships most commonly labelled “monogamy” is the most superficial manifestation of that “institution”.

Polyamorous or otherwise “non-monogamous” practices that continue to treat people-as-property (just with slightly different access rules) and which centre “couples” are participating in / enacting Monogamy’s institutions just like nominally “monogamous” relationships/practices do. 

Monogamy is inherently coercive but alternatives aren’t necessarily less coercive.

Keep reading

[whatawonderfulvoid]

I’m exhausted by romance. Burned out. End of my tether. No combination of caffeine and/or refreshing all-natural face-mask can make up for the fucking marathon that is romance in media and society. 

how are you people not tired of romance?

[whatawonderfulvoid]

This this THIS

Also, I’d love to hear your linguistic reasons, if you’re keen to share.

This isn't specifically quoiro and sorry for the long post but can we just talk about how cool the ever-changing collection of identities and labels we have is???

There are so many arguments about the list of labels and "microlabels" growing bigger, but the words we use for sexualities, romantic orientations, gender, etc. ultimately functions in two different ways: they are there for understanding, and they are there for connecting.

When it comes to understanding, this can mean other people but most importantly applies to ourselves. Our internal sense of self is so abstract and beyond words that it can be difficult to understand and accept the parts of us that aren't identical to other people. But when you look at a word and can automatically go "that's me, more accurately put into words than I knew how to do so before" it can be amazing and so fulfilling. And yes, it can go the other way and some people will be way more comfortable to stay away from labels altogether. But in a society where a lot of things (like gender or attraction) is assumed to be innately and universally understood, being able to have words that can be used to explain yourself a bit better can be invaluable.

In this sense, connection could refer to one's connection to their own feelings and self,; however, it can also refer to the connections we build through finding others who might use similar labels. There are people all over the world who have wildly different identities, experiences, thoughts and feelings, something which is easy to forget when you're surrounded by people who are cis and straight. This is where our growth in labels combines with the rise of the internet to form communities and bonds through words.

You may not get very far with just shouting your experiences and feelings into the void but if you have specific words/labels/identities, you have a way to connect with people who feel the same and may have slightly different levels of knowledge in their experiences. When you feel alone or broken, being able to know there are others that feel the same can mean everything.

(There are also linguistic reasons why I think this is all insanely cool but I'm not gonna get into that unless people want me to.)

So tl;dr, even if you don't see the point of an increasing list of identities and labels, there will be people somewhere in the world to whom they will mean everything.

[whatawonderfulvoid]

[ID: The John Mulaney meme. The first panel shows John Mulaney yelling “No!” at “saying “I don’t think they’re anything more than friends””. The second panel shows John Mulaney yelling “Yeah!” at “saying “I think they’re friends” to avoid implying that different types of relationships for a hierarchy with friendship at the bottom”. End ID]

[whatawonderfulvoid]

This is interesting. Feels like a discussion topic that should be explored through breaking down and branching out into further questions implied by the original thought.

A few that come to mind:

What would a ‘romance aesthetic’ need to look like/feel like in order not to seem repulsive?

Are there examples of alternative ‘romance aesthetic’ variations that can be observed in the wider world?

What affect can romance repulsion have on a person’s interaction with the rest of society?   

Aro/Ace Question of the week: Am I really, truly, Romance-Repulsed? Or am I simply Repulsed by This Culture’s ~Romance AESTHETIC~?

Is there any difference?

And would it matter at all if there were?

[whatawonderfulvoid]