it’s funny to pretend that twin peaks is an overthought cautionary tale about the dangers of kink shaming

rahhb:

There’s no graffiti like Broadway graffiti

its funny bc if you read the books you know it is

rahhb:

There’s no graffiti like Broadway graffiti

its funny bc if you read the books you know it is

(via live-laugh-kawaii)

although as she complimented them she was putting clothespins on them and then fucking with them and then whipping them so yeah my labia feelings are good even if my actual labia are a bit sore

she also complimented my labia and you can never have too many labia compliments

also feeling validated bc got topped/dommed by my irl friend and i had a really good time and i think she did too and it’s just nice and cool to go to work and be like, yeah i did a good job doing a thing that i like to do

you know you can feel okay about your shoot when your (lady) photographer politely & non-creepily asks you out afterwards

like i would probably say that i’m “lower class” or “working class” anyway, but this pretense that having that kind of money makes you somehow “middle class” (which i feel like comes w implications of being within some kind of income “average” even though that’s historically not the case, i think) should put me at some kind of poverty level

and i don’t know. i mean, i have a roof over my head and some kind of health care through school, but i’m also paycheck to paycheck and in what some might call crushing debt. 

moneyed queers fucking w my perception of my own social position when i should really be thinking more about where i’m gonna get my next dollar

floored by the amt of wealthy queers (wealthy as in, don’t need a job, traveling across the country & internationally on a regular basis, ownin yr own condo) who refer to themselves as “middle class”

nowthisisgothic:

  • stills from “Cardinal Newman” by Nervous Gender, 1981

(via nemesissy)

Most street-smart lesbians who frequented the gay bars knew about undercover agents and tried to take precautions against entrapment, but there was not much that could be done. Perhaps the tyranny of the ‘appropriate’ butch and femme dress in working-class bars can be explained in part by patrons’ fears: A Columbus, Ohio, woman recalls walking into a lesbian bar in the 1950s and finding that no one would speak to her. After some hours the waitress told her it was because of the way she was dressed - no one could tell what her sexual identity was, butch or femme, and they were afraid that if she did not know enough to dress right it was because she was a policewoman.
Lillian Faderman, Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America
(via straightallies)

(via overreaching)

fuckyeahstellapeach:

phone pix pt 7

1) robyn bathroom selfie

2) new ear cuff

3) golden gate at dusk

4) pride crystals

5) lil nutmeat davey

6) june sky

7) sun setting on the golden coast

8) pride altar

hey this is stella they are magic

My observation of the cases of Trude, Ruth and Rita, together with the knowledge I have gained in the last few years, have led me to recognize the existence of an anxiety, or rather anxiety-situation, which is specific for girls and the equivalent of the castration anxiety felt by boys. This anxiety-situation culminates in the girl’s idea that her mother will destroy her body, abolish its contents and take the children out of it, and so on.

the psychoanalysis of children (1932)

jesus christ i did not expect that reading melanie klein would get this like shirley jackson-level brutal, i read this half an hour ago and am still crawling out of my skin, also way to beat deleuze and guattari to the BwO punch by like 40 years, also also this was written in 1932 and is of course fucked up in lots of essentialist ways and yeah i’m definitely tired of reading the word ‘oedipal’ but klein’s work at least takes it in far more interesting directions than penis envy, aka ‘i’m so in love with my dick i can’t possibly imagine that women aren’t seething with jealousy that they don’t have one,’ like god, DESTROY HER BODY ABOLISH ITS CONTENTS, that resonates on a level i don’t even know how to articulate, like: “”#tw ed”“” “recovery”“, you know how it is, plus the sheer scope of it reduces castration anxiety to this minor kind of pathetic concern, like i see your worry about losing your penis and i raise you MY ENTIRE BODY, melanie contra freud i love her so much

(via battlestardidactica)

(via nemesissy)

as in,

me: “what were you doing at the age of 20”

her: “oh, i was doing The Work by that time”

the head mistress of my dungeon came to hang out at my house w some other dommes last night and we were talking about her career and i thought it was interesting that she referred to being a domme/sex worker as “the work”

bay area queer
white dfab fag & rehabb'd redneck.  TW for kink, mental illness, and baloney