makswhale

tiff you just summoned such specific memories for me

thinking about this having watched both the general (1926) and the good the bad and the ugly (1966) in successive days

is there any civil war media with cultural impact thats about how awesome it was to be a good guy on the right side of history during the war or did the white south annihilate that as an option in its whiny bid for a cultural rehabilitation of its “culture”. media about literally the president aside

I may be small, but I still have rules! I dislike bad timekeeping! I love a strict routine! I dislike things left in my way! I hate being told what to do! And that's just a few! Best4bunny.com featuring a photo of a bunny on a blanket

need to find a way to politely tell my 2018-era tumblr dork coworker to please stop playing sea shanties in the extremely hip cafe because it’s destroying the vibes

bumper sticker that says “keep honking! i’m listening to the beach boys ‘sloop john b’ on repeat”

a sumptuous bowl of fish, egg omelet, fish cake, green bean, lemon, etc

japantown corner market chirashi lunch >>>>>

cover of the wretched of the earth by frantz fanon

kind of nothing i can really add that someone hasn’t said smarter than i have. On Violence really is worth reading in The Current Historical Moment. found the section about case studies really fascinating as well as when he rips psychiatrists a new one about race science

if you get a barista who cares they’ll try to give a cap more foam than a fw. some shops also keep a traditional cap size (6oz) and let the flat white be 8 oz. also, you’d be surprised how many people ask for dry cappucinos! but most places dont do any of this and figure ppl wont notice or care

flat whites are from australian coffee culture where you can basically get a shot+water (long black) or a shot+milk (flat white). porting the term over to us coffee culture renders the term meaningless, it is a small latte. caps & fws are supposed to differ in milk texture but ur right, not always

helen standing next to a sign on a pole that says “wife” in cursive and “WIFE” in block print. she is my wife so it’s appropriate.

wife wife @garfooble.bsky.social

the day i learned that the sf jazz scene actually has a HISTORY of being second-rate new orleans i watched my dreams of pushing for more small combo swing in my scene curdle like old milk or perhaps a moldy fig

i feel about sf trad jazz the way i feel about sf bbq: people keep telling me no, this one’s actually good, but i still don’t like it. but like bbq and texas i assume when i hear trad jazz in new orleans one day i’ll love it

i thought it was 1) on purpose 2) funny

coming out to bsky as puerto rican with this post

thank u benito for becoming the world’s most famous boricua, it was rough for a while there while it was lin

i was recently on samuel delany’s website looking through his comment section, where he is an active participant. someone asked him how to write a great sex scene (he writes some of the best) and he said something like “describe carefully things you have done.” anyway just thinking about that here

i too am on this and the lumps hurt in a weird way to the touch and i stupidly got them basically right where my pants sit. no regrets

jazz musicians invented AND perfected “locking in”

YouTube video by Lionel Hampton - Topic Airmail Special (Parts 1 & 2)

the thing about jazz and swing in particular is that it rocks harder than almost anything when it’s good. the last 1:15 of this go so hard it makes me want to break something youtu.be/nkW0udiErI4?...

an 80s cover of Armistead Maupin’s Further Tales of the City, depicting the Bay Bridge from Yerba Buena Island. my dog is laying in the sun in the background

At five-nine, Michael was dwarfed by the man who had asked him to dance. To complicate matters further, this lumbering hunk clearly expected him to follow—a concept that hadn’t crossed Michael’s mind since the 1968 Senior Prom at Orlando High. And then, of course, Betsy Ann Phifer had done the following. There was a secret to this, he remembered. Ned had learned it at Trinity Place’s Thursday evening hoe-downs: Extend your right arm slightly and straddle his right leg—tastefully, of course—so you can pick up the motion of his body. Check. So far, so good. It felt a little funny doing things backward like this, but it felt sort of wonderful, too. Michael laid his head on the great brown doormat of his partner’s chest and fell into the music. Ed Bruce was still on stage. The song was “Everything’s a Waltz.” The man stepped on Michael’s foot. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s O.K.,” said Michael. “I’m kind of new at this.” “Who isn’t?” grinned Michael. Not so long ago, he realized, men had slow danced in San Francisco. He recalled the tail end of that era, circa 1973. The very sight of it had revolted him: grown men cheek to cheek, sweaty palm to sweaty palm, while Streisand agonized over “People” at the Rendezvous. Then came disco, a decade of simulated humping, faceless bodies writhing in a mystic tribal rite that had simultaneously delighted and intimidated Michael

What that epoch had lacked some people were now finding in country music. The word was romance. “Where are you from?” asked Michael. “Arizona,” replied the man. “Any place I know?” “I doubt it. A place called Salome. Five hundred people.” So he was a real cowboy. That explained the hands. They felt like elephant hide. Bill could just go fuck himself. “Salome,” repeated Michael, copying the man’s pronunciation (Sa-loam). “As in Oscar Wilde?” “Who?” Michael’s heart beat faster. He’s never heard of Oscar Wilde. Dear God, was this the real thing? “Nobody important,” he explained. “It doesn’t really matter. It really didn’t. He felt so profoundly comfortable in this man’s arms. Even his gracelessness was endearing. It wasn’t the man, he reminded himself, but the circumstances. Two prevailing cultures—one very straight, one very gay—had successively denied him this simple pleasure. He felt like crying for joy. “Did you…uh…ride in the rodeo?” he asked. “‘Fraid not. I’m just a construction worker.” Just a construction worker! Jesus God, had he died and gone to heaven? Why hadn’t someone told him there was a place he could go to slow dance with a construction worker? “What do you do for…this…in Salome?” Michael asked. The man pulled away from him just enough for his smile to show. “I go to Phoenix.” He leaned down and kissed Michael clumsily on the edge of his mouth. “You’re a nice guy,” he said. “You too,” said Michael. They danced for another minute in silence. Then the man spoke huskily into Michael’s ear. “Look…would you like to make love tonight?” Make love. Not have sex. Not get it on. Michael’s voice caught in his throat. “I’m actually…here with a friend. He’s just…off right now.” “Oh.” The disappointment in his voice warmed Michael to the marrow. “I could give you my phone number. Maybe if you’re ever in San Francisco…” “That’s OK.” “Never go there, huh?” “Not yet.” “I think you’d like it. I could show you around.” “I don’t travel much.”

(cont from last page) Michael decided against suggesting a trip to Salome. “Look,” he said, “would you believe me if I told you this is better than all the sex I’ve had this year?” The man grinned. “Yeah?” “Infinitely,” said Michael. “I’m stepping all over your…” “I don’t care. I love it.” The man’s chest rumbled as he laughed. “You’re doing just great, said Michael. “Just keep holding me, O.K.?” “Sure.” So Michael settled in, lost in a sweet stranger’s arms until Bill came back with the poppers.

i think my guy may have jumped the shark with one of the main plots in this one. dunno if i’ll pick up the next one tbh! but i really loved this very sweet excerpt about slow dancing, as a slow dance enjoyer

Terrorist Assemblages by Jasbir K Puar

after picking up and putting down this one for over a year i’ve finished it. dense and challenging in a good way. unfortunately even more relevant now than she laments it being in her afterword from 2017

cool 1980 copy of More Tales of the City. Colorful, with two victorians on the cover. The one on the right has windows full of silhouettes of people: looking out the window, smoking, fucking, screwing in a lightbulb

found this cool copy at the iliad in burbank. his treatment of anna madrigal is so sensitive and kind that it really makes me mad that many cis people write trans people so badly. the weird mystery in this is soooo 70s i found it really charming. what will happen to the gays in the 80s? 🤔

the standard paperback cover of Tales of the City: some victorians and the golden gate bridge with the title in a speech bubble

couldnt find the next neveryon so moved on to different “tales.” heard so much about this! thought it was corny for a bit but i love a soap opera so i settled in. very sweet and empathetic, too. marina safeway mentioned. this guy can really write a character you can picture exactly

ok 2026 book log (blog for short)

first book of the year. reads like horny earthsea (tho i dont read a lot of sword & sorcery so i could be “getting boss baby vibes”). delany has many agendas and hes not interested in hiding them, love that about him. great women characters, unusual for him!

should i start keeping a book log like some people do on here

they’ve started making an announcement on the plane about it!! it’s nuts. it’s a post-2020 thing but i’m not smart enough to connect why

that is the much more common experience!

my mom has bipolar disorder and when i was growing up an also mentally ill kid she was adamant that it was ok to take a sick day when your brain’s just not there. i went into adulthood knowing i could exercise that and it’s one of the things i am most thankful to her for!!!