thaxted asked:


1.  After Pitfall, she is really sad about Stacker being dead. 

2.  Like, I don’t give a shit how much sex she is having with Raleigh Becket.  I do not care how good he is at head.  I do not care who else makes it through Pitfall.  Once the adrenaline wears off, once she’s had a shower and a meal to eat and enough time by herself to look in a bathroom mirror, possibly even when she looks in a bathroom mirror and sees her face for the first time in a world where the man who saved her life on the worst day of her life — she is going to remember that the emotional linchpin of her life for the past dozen+ years is dead.  And it’s going to be ugly.   


anonymous asked:

Do you like white guys or Asian guys?

Usually something like this would go to the trash because when I keep answering dumb personal questions, the integrity of my photo and art blog goes down, but this is a good opportunity to talk about something I care about.

What are you asking me?  If I’m a self-loathing white supremacist or a narcissistic racist?  

I’m attracted to rugged, self-respecting progressive thinkers with angular jaws, thick eyebrows, athletic bodies and 5 o’clock shadows. Our world consists of 7 continents, hundreds of countries and thousands of attractive men from each one who fit that description and thousands of attractive men who don’t fit that description. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous but why anyone would have racial hang ups or preferences and intentionally choose to limit their options is something I will never understand, and your question is loaded and beyond ignorant (and calling it a “preference” is just a sugar-coated way to justify something that is racist/fetishizing at its root…)

That being said, something I am wary of since a previous relationship is yellow fever. I won’t let anyone who fetishizes Asian culture colonize my body.

CURRENT(off the top of my head):

Rude Awakening

VEIN ( - i remembered that one)

Futile Justice



Yellow Stitches

Shipwreck AD

Class Struggle




Hammer Bros.

The Carrier

The Bonus Army

Word For Word

Think Again


LOOK THESE BANDS UP, especially Hammer Bros. 

If I find the time I’ll be making another post WITH links.

They’re who I came up listening to, they’re why I am who I am today.

MVHC is much more than a scene that people talk shit about from time to time, it’s where I grew up and where I found my place in the world. I was doing shitty microsoft paint flyers(I’ll dig one up) for shows at Anchors Up in 2009. If I never did that I would have never combined my passion with drawing into hardcore. So shout out to hardcore, for putting me up with the most solid group of friends and the most solid direction in life.

Hardcore for life, go flyer your mall and get somebody else into this shit.

So many good "new" bands in 2012.
















This is in no particular order, and I know there are more that I’m missing.

When I was 25, I started a snarky blog about relationships with one of my best friends about all the reasons you’d never want to date someone (and a few reasons you would). It became wildly popular and we were approached to write a book, which we then parlayed into an extremely non-lucrative TV deal, which went nowhere but lead us to a career in television writing. It was basically the catalyst for my whole professional life, which I’ve miraculously been able to keep going for a few years now. Looking back on those early blog entries, which usually ranged from pithy paragraphs to long meandering essays about different subsets of people who are as a whole, terrible to date (fake sensitive guys, aging manic pixie dream girls, etc), it’s easy to tell that we had a real “take” on dating but not a ton of experience. My partner had just met someone she really liked (they are now very happily married!), and I had just come out of a two year relationship that I hadn’t fully processed yet. Both of us were kind of soured on dating for different reasons, but mine were more bitter and hers were more along the lines of “eh, who needs to date when you’ve got a sweet weirdo to come home to?” In hindsight, her perspective was a lot healthier, especially because she’d spend a good deal of time dating not-so-sweet weirdos, so she was sure she’d found the right person.

Now, five years later, I’m coming out of another relationship and I’m revisiting some of that early writing. It’s a little bit embarrassing but kind of in a great way. It screams “look how much I know about life and love, readers,” while not saying very much. Sure, the idea that a guy who owns an acoustic guitar and a leather wristband might not actually BE all that sensitive is kind of funny (if not revolutionary), but it doesn’t say much about the actual inner workings of our brains or hearts or why someone can make us want to die in the best way and then the worst way and why we feel things as hard as we do for them and then not at all. That old writing was prime Urban Outfitters knick-knack section material, which is why it made sense when they agreed to carry our book (for 12.99, then 8.99, then 4.99, and then seriously-just-take-it-we’ve-gotta-make-room-for-a-book-of-cat-pictures). 

A time like this will make you really look at yourself and take stock of your life and your personal needs and goals, and let me go on record as saying that this time in my or anyone’s life fucking BORES ME TO TEARS. I know I am impatient with my own feelings and emotions, but I feel all of them and I’m just. So. OVER. Them. ALREADY! It feels like I’m pinning a bunch of moths to a cork board and observing them and taking notes and the moths are like “hey, we’re still alive dude” and I’m plugging my ears like “shut up dead moths! You belong on the cork board now!” And then I leave the secret panic-room-style lab in my house and a panel slides to the side and it just looks like a normal wall. Fuck I want that in my house.

Basically, I feel like I don’t have time for this, whereas years ago it’s ALL I had time for, because it’s all I wrote/thought about. For a brief period, it’s all anyone wanted to talk to me about, professionally or otherwise, because my writing partner and I were “those blog people who talk about dating,” so we talked and talked and were charming in meetings and told the story about how we dated for 5 weeks but she remembers it as 4 days and hahaha-isn’t-that-cute-maybe-we’ll-hire-you-to-do-something-for/with-us.

The realization that needs to be made, at least for me, is that EVERYONE has time for this part of life. Sure, it’s boring and long winded and you end up saying the same things over and over and over and thinking you’ve reached a new plateau with your dumb feelings and then you’ll pass a billboard you had an inside joke about and you’ll pull your phone out all lizard brain-y and muscle memory-y to take a picture of and send to them but then you’ll stop yourself because this person is not a part of your life anymore. They are, but not in the way they were because things change and that’s life and we’re all beautiful unique flowers blooming at different times (SEE? Already sick of my own thought process and starting to rip on myself. Ugh). It all boils down to this: I’m glad that five years ago I could write a sort of popular piece called “The Three Post Breakup Phases” and really mean everything I said in it. I really meant that I thought there were three, and I really thought I was very funny in describing them. But with the benefit of hindsight I know that there are as many phases as their are planes of existence (INFINITE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!). We are never done growing and becoming the people we’re going to be until we die, and then we decompose and our bone dust goes up into the sky and becomes part of the rain that will make a tree grow and blablablablablablabla life is endless and beautiful and meaningless in the best possible way. 

The other day I went to a farm and watched a rooster walk around making the “it’s morning” noise that roosters make ALL day. I genuinely thought they only did it in the morning, but no, all day with this guy. “Hey! It’s morning, y’all!” Over and over. For hours. I was there all day and this guy went off on the 20s, more or less. At first I thought, “how simple, that guy’s brain is pretty A to B. I’d like to have a brain like that, just programmed to be a living alarm clock.” And then I spent the rest of the day talking to wonderful people about all kinds of things and meeting goats and I realized, “nahh, this is just a trick my cool ugly brain is playing on me,” and I sat in a giant wooden tree stump chair carved into the shape of a hand and just thought about LIFE, MAN.

GOOD Magazine | Dealbreaker: My Wife Is Gay

“She lives in Chicago and thinks she’s a lesbian,” my friend told me before introducing me to Daria. “She’s perfect for you.” I have never actively pursued queer women who live half a continent away. But let’s just say this wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in this situation. (full story)

Follow this link for more pieces in GOOD Magazine’s Dealbreaker series.