Such A Profound Sense Of Delight When I Realize That A Piece Of Media Is Matching My Freak To The Very

such a profound sense of delight when I realize that a piece of media is matching my freak to the very letter. there are creators out there who are my exact kind of sicko and we are reaching out to each other as if across the cosmos.

Awhirl with events,                   packed with jobs one too many, the day slowly sinks                    as the night shadows fall. There are two in the room:                           I                            and Lenin— a photograph             on the whiteness of wall. The stubble slides upward                         above his lip as his mouth             jerks open in speech.                                 The  tense creases of brow               hold thought                           in their grip, immense brow              matched by thought immense. A forest of flags,                raised-up hands thick as grass... Thousands are marching                       beneath him...                                    Transported, alight with joy,                 I rise from my place, eager to see him,                hail him,                        report to him! “Comrade Lenin,                I report to you — (not a dictate of office,                      the heart’s prompting alone) This hellish work                 that we’re out to do will be done            and  is already being done. We  feed and we clothe                       and give light to the needy, the quotas          for coal                  and for iron                             fulfill, but there is            any amount                      of bleeding muck     and  rubbish                 around  us still. Without you,            there’s many                       have got out of hand, all the sparring              and  squabbling                                  does one in. There’s scum            in plenty                     hounding our land, outside the borders                   and  also                           within. Try to      count ’em               and                  tab ’em —                           it’s no go, there’s all kinds,                 and  they’re                             thick as nettles: kulaks,       red tapists,                 and,                     down the row, drunkards,          sectarians,                    lickspittles. They strut around                  proudly                         as peacocks, badges and fountain pens                         studding their chests. We’ll lick the lot of ’em—                          but                             to lick ’em is no easy job              at the very best. On snow-covered lands                      and on stubbly fields, in smoky plants               and on factory sites, with you in our hearts,                      Comrade  Lenin,                                     we  build, we  think,           we breathe,                   we  live,                           and we fight!” Awhirl with events,                   packed with jobs one too many, the day slowly sinks                     as the night shadows fall. There are two in the room:                           I                           and Lenin — a photograph             on the whiteness of wall.

Vladimir Mayakovsky, 1929

the anesthetic apparently hasn't fully worn off yet

HELLLLLL YEAH!!!!!!!

it is my hope and dream that everyone on tumblr can go outside and visit a gay bar or go to a queer event and see that our community is very beautiful and very diverse and that half the internet discourse isn’t real