I am not sick I am not sick I am not sick

apparently it’s absolutely hot outside, and I have to rethink my jumper-based outfit.

oh shit oh shit oh shit

so I probably have a crush on some dude. and I’m the worst at this, worse even than I am at other things. and I’m going to need to Drink Alcohol sometime soon, and tell my housemate, which’ll make it A Thing. and I absolutely have the Worst Hayfever or, at least, Some Mad Cold. and I doubt that he’s into me. and he probably has a girlfriend anyway. and it’s not like I’ve seen him Wearing a Morrissey Shirt but, y’know. and My Mother is going to read this. and: LIFE.

I’m actually kind of into The Outdoors, but I don’t really like sleeping in it for too long, so I make this ~thing~ that I’m not.

come, help me photocopy my zine
in the library.
down beside the microfilm,
replicate with me.

come, let me use your copy card?
only for this last bit.
with automatic page detect
we make a perfect fit.

come, although the toner’s low,
come, let’s take a chance
on inexact perfection and our
A4-duplex romance.

so I recently read some of a tumblr _thing_ which climaxed (for me, at least) with a young lady of the alt lit community rationalizing her decision to post nude photographs of herself (or, of her breasts, but I won’t get into Ways of Seeing here) with the claim that breasts aren’t sexual.

she argued that their perceived sexuality is purely the construction of institutionalised heteronormative gender oppression, and implied that considering them sexual is wrong.

as a straight female, I find breasts both sexual and awesome. sure, they can be used to exploit women, but only because they are so great: the problem is exploitation, not breasts. breasts are part of being a woman, part of female sexuality, and denying that—to me—denies the potential power of the female. I like the idea of gender equality, but am more convinced by equally-balanced power: I don’t want to be a man.

so I was offended by what came across as a direct—though naive—attempt to disenfranchise female sexuality in the name of feminism.

and I’ll delete this post in a bit, because I’m terrified of tumblr _things_ and of being attacked by defensive people. and because I haven’t directly engaged with the argument, so would probably be taken out of context. also: typing on my iPhone.

but it’s inspired me to develop an idea about feminist values that don’t deny female sexuality. and to start work with a talented friend on a photo series exploring it. specifically for the internet. idek, we’ll see where it takes us.

bawling my face off along to ‘Stay Free’, by the Clash, because: feelings.

this is one of the good signs.

I’m about to get so coherent.

cfww:

Portrait of A. Werlemann

bar, you are the worst. what even, tonight. CRYTOWN.

the Cribs - you were always the one

LET’S ALL RELIVE OUR YOUTH, AND ALSO DANCE. BE HERE IN 1HR.

I can’t remember to think of all the words. whatever. everything is getting so right. tomorrow, and forever. that’s what’s right.
let’s go for a swim.
let’s go to the river.
let’s be in the sun.
let’s take photographs and write down the things we say.
let’s lose them or forget them and return to them and wonder what the point was.
I’ve spent the past year piling books. there’s reading to be done.
let’s be something beautiful.