nothinghands

longing to return to a world in which Americans say, "oh, where's that?" when I say where I'm from

A wooden box about the same size as the nearby trash can, labeled with FLAG DISPOSAL in a sensible typeface across the front and a helpful picture of the American flag above the slot on top. Something about the quality of the wood reminds you of the furniture in a school library in the 90's.

There's a lot I don't understand about Chicago

a below the belt blow by reality, tbh, to drop that shit into my life at the same time as I am sloshing hip-deep through the paradigm shift that parts work is having on my psyche

Is anyone available for screeching about Severence? people capable of discussing in measured tones need not apply

aaaahhhhhhhh

Her questions, in order, were:
-- Do people really live in those big houses that look all the same?
-- Do the parties really look like that? With everyone using the red cups?
-- What is prom? What is the difference between junior prom and senior prom? Why don't the other grades have a prom?

Stylish older Serbian woman at a party in Vienna: So, I just have to ask...
Me, bracing myself for something either about my gender/sexuality or propoganda about Ukrainian nationalism: Yes?
Serbian woman: Is America really like it is in the movies?

a white 30-something person in a big scarf having an incredibly good hair day under some magenta lights

anyway, whole trip worth how good this ramen place's bathroom's bisexual lighting made my skin look

lol right as we got to the Slovakian border the Ukrainian bus driver specifically announced how much vodka, salo, and cigarettes we are allowed to bring in per person and that the Slovak guards inspect the luggage thoroughly by hand -- highly relevant yet totally unactionable information!

no, your glasses are not too much -- maybe those people just aren't enough 🤷‍♂️💅

Being in the shower when the air raid alert siren goes off has the same vibes as being on the toilet when the captain turns on the fasten your seat belt sign

finally getting to relax for my holiday break back in my favorite war zone

this is the start of your hero's journey to travel to the only blacksmith in the world who can repair your father's prized heirloom sword (i.e., this knife), which is the only thing you have left of your family ever since the fire

this looks like your nemesis samurai sliced it with their katana

Oops, backed my well-meaning ass into some drama by helping the people I met at the feminist anti-gentrification manifestation cook for their housing rights fundraiser in our anarchist community space, but it turns out they're *whispers* communists! Barcelona continues being a caricature of itself

Why, you may ask, is this idiot building their ill-advised pipe dreams on a foundation of quicksand if they've got a hang-up about stability? Because this idiot knows it's all quicksand in the end baybee ✌️😎✌️

The squat I was tentatively starting to feel at home in suddenly got their eviction scheduled -- which ofc hits me right in the "every home I've ever had turns to dust" zone. I guess I will just have to keep popping up new hopes and dreams faster than the hammer of life can whack-a-mole them away?

as long as art exists I will never have a moment of peace, and unfortunately for me art includes paneled wooden doors

and I'm expected to just, like, walk down the street, one foot in front of the other, and breathe steadily in and out like THAT's normal, instead of falling to my knees and howling at the unbearable existence of it all? is that it? is that what you're telling me??

ugghh how am I supposed to just calmly move through this world when people have made so many exquisite things to think and feel about?

My Catalan friend, confused: So there are no hooligans or ultras clubs in USA?
Me: No, none of my friends who like sports have ever mentioned anything like that.
Catalan friend, surprised: Then it really is like the movies! Just fathers and sons making stronger their family ties

you weren't kidding about that lighting being extra

By far the most unbearable thing about therapy is that whenever my therapist or I say the word "loss," my brain jumps in with deeply miscalculated impishness to add, ".jpg"

A book by two presumably grown-ass adults, titled "Great British Walkies: 100 brilliant dog walks through beautiful countryside"

there is something so ominously infantile about how upper middle class British people talk

A National Trust sign with a drawing of an ornate clock and the text, "Ink drawing by Charles Wade of a Dutch wall clock, one of many time pieces in the collection. Charles didn't actually wear a wristwatch and his love of clocks was not based on their telling the right time. It was owing to this misunderstanding that Virginia Woolf missed her train home." Not pictured: the part of the sign that quotes Woolf saying that Charles was, "rather a fraud, as he pretended to have no watch, and so I lost my train."

At the historic estate of inspirationally eccentric rich guy Charles Wade, who apparently pissed off Virginia Woolf by making her miss her train because, despite having a clock collection, "his love of clocks was not based on their telling the right time." attaboy, chuck

With the glasses and the bob (and the dimples? get out!) you look like a character design from one of those made for children but beloved by adults style cartoons 😍

Okay I understand that we are the mirror as well as the face in it, we are pain and what cures pain both, but I sure wish we were instead, like, a kitten as well as the pillow it's sitting on

Please put on my gravestone that at least I never had a number in my handle for anything in my life

and not my mouth

and really putting my fist where my mouth is