Who Up Experiencing Emotions They Can Talk To No One About

who up experiencing emotions they can talk to no one about

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.

@unwanted-dandelion-seeds

(about this guy)

a kiln god is a small clay sculptural creature that stays on/in/near a kiln while it’s firing, to watch over the pottery inside and protect it

mine are all vaguely humanoid and holding pottery, but they can be anything

a lot of people leave their kiln gods unglazed, and only ever make one or two. because I work with a shared kiln, my kiln gods have to be inside the kiln so they don’t get bumped or broken, so it makes more sense to glaze them and keep making more

(^this one I kept, she lives on my pottery desk)

people have lots of little traditions around kilns and pottery. there are so many variables to successfully finishing a piece of pottery, and many of the steps are out of our control. it’s nice to have a kiln god watching over our work

if you take a pottery class, your teacher might mention the kiln gods. for some potters/studios they’re more of a concept than anything physical

what can I say, humans just love to make little guys

i used to feel sad and upset about biphobia from queer people. that was before i discovered spite! and lost the fucks i used to give. now when i see someone talk shit about bisexuality, and a number of shitheads do especially love to shit on bi women with boyfriends, i’m just like

yeah? you don’t think i’m queer enough? and how exactly are you gonna stop me 🤔 are you gonna come to my house and perform a medical miracle by somehow removing the bisexuality from my body? are you gonna stalk me around town to make sure i don’t attend any pride events? or are you just gonna talk shit online because mocking others gives you a momentary false sense of security in your own identity 🤷‍♀️

there’s literally nothing you can do to prevent me from being queer in a way you disapprove of 😌 get well soon