senior woman

We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are often brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction.
—  “all about love: New Visions” by bell hooks

Queer history is hard to come by popularly. We don’t have the same traditions that pass on history, we don’t get our heritage from our families. I’ve heard people on tumblr and other venues speak on this before. 

Here is a generation of older people speaking on what it’s meant to be queer in the past. 

Queer life was so different. Community was different. We came from such a scary place. Times have changed. I cried for their past pain, our present privilege.  

For a moment, Minako turned away from the sight of her little ballet boy– now turned Eros seducing the room with each turn and sweep of his come-hither fingers. For the first time, and only briefly, she watched the gloved hands fall from Viktor’s face as he watched, rapt and unblinking. It was the impassive stare of a carnivore. 

She recognised it. She had seen it the day she had stepped forward to claim the title of principal dancer from her senior. The older woman had moved towards her to kiss her cheek, her hands gripping her shoulders a little too tight, her stare a little too cutting.

‘Fuck you if you think you could ever cast dirt on my legacy,’ it said. ‘Fuck you if you think you can best me.’ And there- there it is. The same cold terror that flickered in that hard gaze all those years ago, that had lanced through her own heart when she saw her own younger, prettier, sexier model enter through the dancing hall door years later – and that now stood sentinel in those cold blue eyes.

‘Oh God,’ it whispered. ‘What if you can.’


Desire, jealousy, pride, love. I like to think Viktor’s a little more complicated than meets the eye.

everyone has needs, whether those be romantic, sexual, emotional, spiritual, whatever else. that’s a given. the question/real issue is will you be honest and unashamed about what you need? will you allow your self to be vulnerable in saying those needs & desires out loud to yaself and/or ya friend(s), beau(s), partner(s), bae(s), family, etc.? or will you find yourself manipulating others into giving you what you need without asking or communicating that, out of fear of rejection, seeming weak or fragile, or out of a need to maintain “power” in whatever relationship…

I want every senior woman to get a tumblr, reading their thoughts and stories would be so interesting and valuable and really bring us in to perspective of how things have changed and how they haven’t.

While at a show at our local flea market, a senior woman brought her “Therapy Dog” poorly-behaved chihuahua inside. She fussed at the LE at the door, who basically went “not worth our jobs” and let her in.

After screeching upon seeing us (we were checking out stones at a table), she told me I had to leave because her dog didn’t like mine.

Me: “That’s nice. Maybe if your dog had the hundreds of hours of training it takes to make a real service dog, he wouldn’t have that problem.”

  • Mom: If you eat that hot pocket now, you're going to spoil your dinner.
  • Me: I'm 18, I'll do what I want.