You are allowed to grieve the years you lost to mental illness. You’re allowed to be mad that it happened to you. You’re allowed to pine after the person you might have been had it been different. But don’t let that get in the way of your growing into your new self and following a wholly new path for your life.
I BET THAT IF TWO KIDS LIVED IN THOSE TWO HOUSES THAT THEY WOULD COME OUT ON THEIR ALMOST CONJOINING ROOFS OUTSIDE THEIR BEDROOM WINDOWS AND TALK AND BE BEST FRIENDS AND FALL IN LOVE.
I will not write fluff to that. I won’t. No.
LUCY I FOUND IT
But what if instead of two kids, it was, say, a kid and an old woman? And at first they just ignore each other and keep their blinds down and curtains shut, but then the kid climbs out onto the roof one spring morning to get a frisbee and she’s got the window open bc it’s so nice out and she tells him to cut that out, it’s not a jungle gym and maybe the kid shows off a bit and nearly falls, and the old woman catches his arm…. anyway, so sometimes they leave the windows open and the kid’ll show off his comic books or asks what rhymes with ‘beautiful’ (and it’s totally for homework shut up), and the old woman tells him about all the protests and marches she took part in, and asks him the name of that one cute pop star (it’s absolutely for her crossword now shush). And the old woman gives the kid relationship advice, and doesn’t tell when he tries a bit too much of his parents’ liquor cabinet one time, and the kid comes over and shows her how to use the smartphone her daughter bought for her, and doesn’t tell when she sneaks a cigarrette out of said daughter’s bag. And when the weather’s too bad to open the windows, they tape silly pictures or notes to the glass for the other to see (the kid makes sure to make his extra big so she doesn’t have to admit her eyeight isn’t what it used to be), and when it is nice the kid will sneak over and leave seashells on her windowsill, because the old woman said once she misses the sea, but she can’t travel like she used to. And one day he peeks in her window and sees her on the floor, and calls 911 and basically saves her life because she had a stroke and nobody would’ve known in time otherwise. And when she finally gets back from the hospital, just for a while because her daughter’s talking about a retirement home where she’ll have plenty of medical care and lots of friends her age, the kid comes through the window and then pulls another kid through the window who he introduces as his boyfriend, and says he wanted her to meet him. And she sniffs and interrogates the boyfriend in proper elderly relative fashion, and then declares him worthy of her boy— barely. And when she finally does have to go to that retirement home, the kid still comes to visit her, and always leaves seashells on the windowsill.
I’m not crying or anything
I am omg
oh goddamn this is beautiful
"I let you become my happiness; and that’s where I went wrong."
if you ever get the chance please kiss me just fucking do it just go straight for the smooch and take it
i hate my light being on in my room at night it makes me cringe and it makes me sad for the things that i want that i dont have it makes me want change and to get off my lazy ass to do something different but then i sit and get more sad because i cannot do any of those things
draw something on my hand that i won’t wanna wash off for a few days, let me kiss you on the neck when i put on red lips and convince all your friends that i’m ‘not just something else, this one is special’
terms for penis you should not use in fics:
- love stick
- ding dong
- 100% all-beef thermometer
- bologna pony
- stinky pickle
- magic wand
- divine rod
- love muscle
- power drill
- captain winky
- yogurt slinger
- DNA rifle
1. Tony Ray-Jones. Beachy Head Tripper Boat, 1967
2. Tony Ray-Jones. Beauty contestants, Southport, Merseyside, 1967
3. Tony Ray-Jones. Brighton Beach, West Sussex, 1966
4. Tony Ray-Jones. Eastbourne Carnival, 1967
5. Tony Ray-Jones. Glyndebourne, 1967
6. Martin Parr. Tom Greenwood cleaning, 1976. © Martin Parr/ Magnum
7. Tony Ray-Jones. Blackpool, 1968
8. Tony Ray-Jones.Dickens Festival, Broadstairs, c. 1967. © National Media Museum
Dancing in the Dragon Jaws.
Dancing in the Dragons Jaws is Los Angeles-based photographer Thomas Alleman’s profound and nuanced body of work taken of San Francisco’s broader gay community during the mid-1980s. Working as a newspaper photographer for The Sentinel at the time, he was given the time and liberty that all sociopolitical relevant issues—including those of the present day—deserve. After shelving this work for over a decade, Alleman went back in 2009 to uncover and scan images that he’d previously overlooked.
Intermixed with images of galas, glitter, and glam are also images that show the severity of the struggle facing San Francisco’s gay community in the mid-80s. Alleman recalls, “We reported and photographed a blizzard of protests and demonstrations, vigils and marches and sit-ins, as the community struggled for social and political recognition of the crisis. But not every drumbeat was martial, of course. Often it was syncopated and disco-y, and I watched countless partiers dance to it with a shimmy and a bounce, and with life-affirming joy. While many of the pictures demonstrate a community in lamentation, many others are about anger and resolve, and most are about love and life. And disco and drag.”
Because of this range in depiction, because of the patience shown for the fight, because of the far-reaching concern shown for one another—whether dressed in a suit or in drag—Alleman shows us a human issue, not just an LGBT one. Therein lies this collection’s heart. Furthermore, Alleman reminds us of “that moment in our social history—so long ago, and so very recent—when the first wave of the AIDS epidemic crashed onto one of our country’s most vibrant neighborhoods. And, while that tribe convulsed with well-earned fear, heartbreak and anger, some still found the courage and the will to celebrate the dream of life they’d come to San Francisco for, and they danced in the dragon’s jaws.”