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I know coordinates tattoos are all trendy and whatnot, but how many people can say “these are the coordinates of Bigfoot”?
#believe

I know coordinates tattoos are all trendy and whatnot, but how many people can say “these are the coordinates of Bigfoot”?
#believe

It’s hard not to feel humorless, as a woman and a feminist, to recognize misogyny in so many forms, some great and some small, and know you’re not imagining things. It’s hard to be told to lighten up because if you lighten up any more, you’re going to float the fuck away. The problem is not that one of these things is happening; it’s that they are all happening, concurrently and constantly.

These are just songs. They are just jokes. It’s just a hug. They’re just breasts. Smile, you’re beautiful. Can’t a man pay you a compliment? In truth, this is all a symptom of a much more virulent cultural sickness - one where women exist to satisfy the whims of men, one where a woman’s worth is consistently diminished or entirely ignored.
Roxane Gay, from “Blurred Lines, Indeed,” Bad Feminist, 2014 (via myshoesuntied)
It is not memory we want, but forgiveness.
We rub our hands against the dusk.
Out of which sunsets blossom.
Out of which your footsteps weigh, but lightly,
on my soul, you, from whom relation
darts wildly about like a bat in the rafters,
gathering the last scraps of daylight held in
abandoned mirrors, you, hoisting the heaviness
of each failed dream, for it is you I touch as we shift
the burden of our desires from one shoulder to another,
as we watch the swallow’s flight decipher the landscape,
as the scarecrows of feeling are trying on our words,
for who can say, now, how many stars are missing?
Richard Jackson, closing lines to “Possibility,” from Heartwall (University of Massachuetts Press, 2000)

(Source: apoetreflects)

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My lyme doc thought of me in Georgia last week - has been thinking of me quite a bit, apparently. Seems he’s starting to develop an intolerance to one of his favorite things – coffee. So before I had even sat down in his office yesterday he began asking me about the details of my food reactions (hoping his reactions would deviate so much from what I described that he could rule out coffee intolerance and suspect random tummy upset coincidence, I’m sure). It was funny because the tables felt oddly turned, he pointed to parts of his stomach and described to me exactly where the burning started and what it felt like (being stabbed by a butcher knife, then dulling out to a burning ache) and what followed (“like everything I eat after that just gets STUCK! No bowel movements at all for a few days and a bunch of incredibly uncomfortable water retention”). I just sadly nodded. Sorry, but it sounds like RIP to coffee for you, doc. He said that he of course had sympathy for my situation / not being able to eat food before, but realizing the pain side of it on top of the deprivation really fully opened his eyes to the hell I must be going through. 

This motivated him to really start digging. He said because of all the bullshit surrounding pharmaceuticals he often overlooks them as his habit is to go to herbal or alternative (IE gentler) therapies first things first, but in that habit he sometimes forgets that there are a few good drugs out there. He hadn’t thought of exploring much what I’d tried before I came to him with the stomach complications because some were so basic he assumed my having been to at least 2 gastroenterologists before him that that ground had surely been covered. But. I shook my head at mention of Carafate. Never even heard of it. Apparently it’s an older ulcer medication that works by coating the stomach in a protective barrier before meals. ??? Uh, yes, PLEASE let me try that! 

So that’s hopeful. But even without that potential magic pill I’ve recently encountered others. The mega high dose probiotics I’ve been on for 4 months plus the addition of MSM seems to have very dramatically shifted things. I added the MSM in about a month ago and increased dosage too much too soon and couldn’t handle the detox, so I had to back off completely for a few days to give my body a break. I don’t think I realized the gradual relief the MSM was building until I completely quit it for 3 days – holy shitballs the burning pain in my stomach those 3 days. I realized OH MY GOD this is the pain I’ve gotten accustomed to having 24/7 for the last 3 years. The minute I added the MSM back in the pain completely disappeared. Realizing that it was making such a huge difference I was emboldened to test some foodstuffs. Coconut, seaweed, berries, avocados, banana, dates, cashews… I still react to almost anything other than meat (can have berries and seaweed in smallish doses now, tho!) BUT! BUT!!!!!!!! My reactions have been whittled down to a nub now. Instead of horrifying pain and morbid bloating and suicidal depression for 1-2 weeks after eating a food, I have mild burning and mild bloating with 0 mental symptoms for 8-24 hours. So OF COURSE I’ve been hurting myself here and there. Because you can not even begin to imagine what a banana tastes like after 3 years of meat only. People throw around the term MOUTHGASAM but I don’t think those fools really know. YOU KNOW? (I may have cried while eating that banana)

Anywho. I’m excited. Still have got a ways to go before full reintroductions likely, but it’s so so so so so so so encouraging to finally see some real progress. 

It’s so eerie realizing that there truly is an innate wisdom of our own bodies that we possess, too. Back at the beginning of the year dad and I were hanging out at the ‘foot and he suddenly got very serious and asked “Okay, so really… do you truly feel like you’ll be able to eat other foods ever again?” This is weird because dad is more of a focus-on-good-only / never-get-serious / lalalalala-if-we-just-don’t-talk-about-gnarly-potentials-maybe-they-don’t-exist kinda guy. He loves to hear about improvements with my health but when I vent about pain etc he gets very visibly uncomfortable and unresponsive and tends to find something to do in another room or hand the phone off to mom. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to watch your child suffer, but it’s always kinda irked me that I feel like I can’t REALLY talk to him about what I’m going through. So when he so suddenly got so serious back at the beginning of this year I was a little stunned and blubbered for a minute. But basically I told him that most of the time the answer to that question depends on when you ask me. If you ask me while I’m reacting to a food / in the midst of that burning pain and depression my answer would be NO, THIS IS MY FATE. EVERYTHING BLOWS. But if you ask me on a good day my true optimistic nature would likely prevail – I’ll eventually claw my way out of this black hole with teeth. I told him that deep down, the very realistic part of me had some sort of strange feeling that by the end of this year things would start to turn around. That’s even why I have certain big trips loosely planned for the beginning of next year. Well, here it is the year starting its wind down and…looks like my strange innate suspicions may have been onto something. Just like sometimes when I test a food before I even eat it my tummy will do flips when I just LOOK at it. Our bodies KNOW and are constantly trying to communicate to us. There’s just so many messages and so many hopes that can muddle all that intuition, though. 

Here’s to progress. 

\o/

Chekhov said, ‘People must not be humiliated, that is the main thing.’ I think about that all the time. I think about how shame is the most powerful force and you could write a story about anything horrific or depraved that someone did because of shame and it would feel true. Yes, you would think, someone could possibly do that most craven thing, because of shame. My urge to write and the focus of my job are both motivated by a need to reject unwarranted shame absolutely and explicitly.
Merritt Tierce (via mttbll)
Renounce repeating the success of the years before. Seek
A success of a type undreamed of. Write a poetic fishing manual. Try an Art of Love.
Kenneth Koch, from “The Art of Poetry” (via uutpoetry)
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Last night I had a dream that I was at a party in a gymnasium with Pancakes and Jack Nicholson and I could fly and eat chocolate covered pretzels and peanut butter m&m’s. I’m not usually a big snooze person, but you can bet your booty that button was pressed at least 3 times this morning.