so ace.
I had to watch this several times before I noticed that they were switching off leading and following. Sooooo smooth…
gorgeous!
(Source: youtube.com, via dancequeer)
OH.
(Source: goodbyeforeverfatty, via kitschyliving)
i am wonky
I have serious balance issues (just ask my therapist, ARF ARF). The older I get, the more it would appear that my inner spirit level is all wonked- up to fuck. On pretty much an hourly basis I will stumble, usually when getting up from a seated position, or walking up stairs, and usually to the side. I don’t fall over or hurt myself; it’s just a bit embarrassing. Most of the time.
On the dancefloor, it’s becoming an issue. I’m pretty much at one with the idea that I may never reach the dizzy heights of International Lindy Stardom; I’m not young and I’m not particularly nimble and grace has never been one of my virtues. But I’d like to be a serviceable follow one day. At the moment, I’m afraid that I’m actually verging on dangerous. Yesterday evening at the end of an extremely encouraging dance with a lovely, lovely lead, I tripped over his feet or my own, and we nearly hit the deck. It was a horrid end to what felt otherwise like my smoothest, least stumbly, least beginner- ish dance ever.
Is there a way for me to get less stumbly? Will I just balance out as I dance more? What should I be doing?
Listen, if your revolution doesn’t implicitly and explicitly include a rejection of misogyny and other intersectional marginalizations, then you’re not staging a revolution: You’re staging a change in management.
—Melissa McEwan (via Shakesville)
(Source: womenoccupy)
the white dick club
somebody posted a link to an awesome piece of writing about the white dick club and making #occupy spaces safe for women/ people of colour/ LGTB occupiers. would anybody be able to furnish me with a link to it? thankyou in advance.
Amazing.
HEY, OK CUPID: FUCK YOU!
So at some point or other I must have given okcupid a fake birth date, because today I got an email from them with the subject line ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ And then the first two lines of the email are ‘Happy Birthday! Still single?’.
Which is a) like, Jesus, that’s one hell of a non- sequiter; what are you, my mother? and b) FUCK YOU, OK CUPID! It’s my birthday! (it’s not). I could be very sensitive about the fact that I’m still single (I’m not*), and you could be bringing up a very sensitive subject on my birthday, when i was planning on going out with my homegirls and drinking Long Island Ice Mocktails and dancing to Tone Loc in a lascivious manner (I wasn’t) and you could have ruined my fucking birthday by completely single- shaming me and I could be crying a little bit and deciding that maybe we’ll just get an Indian and watch Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two whilst wearing comedy hats at sad angles because really a birthday is just another single day closer to my SINGLE LONELY DEATH.
* Well, feasibly, I guess.
La llorona era Hopey was my first ever girlcrush. In fact, I still have a terrible weakness for girls who look like La Llorona- era Hopey.
Love & Rockets #6 back cover
Can anyone tell me why, having bought this very lovely dress ten days ago, i’ve yet to wear it other than to a party? and why I’m sitting at my computer, wearing ill- fitting jeans and ill- fitting t- shirts and mooching about how much I hate my boring clothes and feeling an old, washed- out sadness about my body when I could just wear this lovely frock, which swishes around my hips and shows off my bodacious rack and clings to the curve of my belly and generally makes it quite difficult to feel anything but cheerful about the amount of space I take up in the world?
Is it because I’m a div? Thought it might be.
update: i am now wearing the dress. :)
YOGAAAAAAAAA!!!
that is the growl that i make in my head when i do warrior pose. (truth: i never do warrior pose. my knees get gnarly and opstreperous at the mere suggestion).
i’m going to a new yoga class today. it is anusara yoga, of which i know little but that a) it might work my edges with regards to yoga spirituality (not that i mind the odd namaste and maybe a bit of low and embarrassed humming- rather- than- chanting, but this looks fairly full- on. we’ll see), and b) anus. anus yoga. hunh hunh hunh. hunhhunhhunhhunh. anus yoga.
i’m supposed to be on an urban retreat. no, i am on an urban retreat, but my retreat precepts were supposed to include no home internet. well, i lasted four days. FLAGS AND TRUMPETS.
