Denis Forkas Kostromitin - Mythological sketches. 2012
This is too important for me not to mention.
The book states: "Give 10 licks at a time, more if the child resists. Be careful about using it in front of others — even at church; nosy neighbors might call social workers."
This is literally a how-to manual on how to abuse and beat your children.
OH MY GOD. Okay stop scrolling and look at me. My mother actually used this book. I am a victim of this piece of literary evil, and let me tell you, it has left me with some seriously deep scars. It got to the point that my brother and I couldn’t even laugh. Laughter was considered “foolishness” and we would literally be struck ten times for it if she heard it. Let me reiterate that.
We could not enjoy ourselves or even be happy without being beaten.
One of the “Christian” cult families introduced this to her and yes, it is basically condoning serious child abuse. I actually personally believe in corporal punishment and let me tell you, THIS IS NOT CORPORAL PUNISHMENT. It is heavy abuse and it’s evil, evil, evil. I’m going to go sign that petition, and so help me, if you know of someone using this book, call Child Protective services immediately. The children of that cult family are now actually being rehabilitated because they grew up like robots. It’s a sick fucking book, okay? Sick. Let’s get this thing banned before it ruins anymore lives.
I am the way I am today because of this hideous thing. I cry every time someone even gently reprimands me. I’m afraid of cutting up in public because I think someone is going to hit me. Worst of all: It taught me to tolerate abuse, that I deserved abuse, and that if someone abused me, I was clearly in the wrong. I can’t possibly begin to tell you how dangerous it has been for me. Thanks to people around me who were raised right, I am only now starting to learn to stand up for myself and that, no, I am not an idiot who deserves verbal, physical, emotional, or mental abuse. I am not just a child who will forever be subject to her power-hungry mother.
Most of all… Children are not animals. And really, who the fuck even treats an animal like that??? Please, if you reblog one thing from me, please let it be this. I don’t want anyone else to go through what I did.
"Delete ugliness. Delete mediocrity. Insert the glorious sunset of a period."
Tim O’Brien (via mttbll)
Frank Lloyd Wright’s Bed(s), Taliesin West, Scottsdale, Arizona (by lumierefl)
"Frank Lloyd Wright’s bedroom… Everyone was instructed that it was OK to wake him if he were napping on the right bed, but NEVER disturb him if he was asleep on the left bed"
that’s so strange but practical and quintessentially FLW
War Toys by Brian McCarty
The series “War Toys” is born from the meeting of children affected by war with the photographer, who travels since 2011 in areas affected by war as Israel and the Gaza Strip.
"I always think when I’m starting a new project, ‘I want to do everything in this book; I want it to cover every single thing.’ And it doesn’t ever turn out that way. It can’t happen. But that’s always the emotion I have pulling at me. I try to pour in every charged particle, and say all that must be said, and of course I can’t. Which means that the next book has to be about everything. So I give it another shot, and that one also falls short. Each book is in some way trying to correct the state of imbalance and incompletion left by its predecessors—chugging around the garden, watering new tomatoes."
Nicholson Baker (via mttbll)
"The girls are never supposed to end up together. I watched that movie with Ellen Page and Alia Shawkat, the roller-skating movie, the one where Ellen and Alia are best friends, each other’s only comforts in their podunk town. They need each other, and they hug, and they dance, and they tell each other I Love You, and Ellen meets a skinny boy who plays in a band. It doesn’t even work out with the boy, but that’s almost tangential. The girl was never a real option.
I think that’s why it’s really difficult for girls. For me. We follow narratives and our fingertips trace the contours of the stories we love and we long to escape within the confines of our own lives. Meet your boyfriend in the pouring rain and yank down his mask and kiss him upside down. Run with your boyfriend to the front of the ferry and throw your arms out to the side and scream, “I’m king of the world!” If you are a girl in love with a boy, your possibilities are infinite.
If there is a special girl in your life, you love her as a friend. You love her as a friend, but she becomes less important to you as you grow, and you leave her behind for a boy. She might even stand next to you when you marry the boy, and she might catch the bouquet of flowers that you throw to her. You’re giving her permission to move on, move away from you. It’s a ceremony of separation.
But if you should fall in love with a girl - and loving and falling in love are two very distinct things - the first kiss is the end. You’ve all seen the movie. Or the television show. Or the after-school special, or you’ve read the book that was banned from your school’s library for containing Sexual Content. The point of your story is not to fall in love. The point of your story is to struggle. Your story begins with a lie and climaxes in a truth and ends with a kiss. In the movie of your life, forty-five minutes are devoted to you figuring out how to say that you want to kiss girls, and another half-hour is devoted to people’s objections, and maybe the last fifteen minutes is you kissing the girl. Maybe you don’t even get to kiss the girl. Maybe she tells you that she’s flattered, but she doesn’t bat for your team.
The critics swoon; it’s realistic, they say, so realistic, to depict the struggle of the modern teen, the heartbreak of irresolvable incompatibility. Isn’t that always what celebrities cite in their divorces? “Irreconciliable differences.”
And so you’re lying on the floor of your bathroom, your knees curled to your chest, or you’re on your sofa with a pint of ice cream, or you’re in bed watching your favourite sad movie on Netflix, and the collective weight of all that you consume settles on your shoulders, leans in, and whispers, “You were never meant to fall in love.”
You were never meant to fall in love. Your story ends in tears or it ends in death. Jack Twist was bludgeoned to death with a tire iron and Ennis Del Mar was left alone in his closet to dance with an empty shirt. Alby Grant found Dale Tomasson swinging by a noose in the apartment that had been their safehouse, their respite, and he sank to his knees and cradled Dale’s bare feet and he cried. The Motion Picture Association of America axed Lana Tisdel and Brandon Teena’s sex scenes, but they didn’t have a problem with the extended shot of Lana cradling Brandon’s corpse in her fragile arms and falling asleep next to his body.
Love and intimacy are ours only in death, or so it would seem.
I don’t want to die. Isn’t that a very human experience? Not wanting to die? When does anyone who looks like me get to grow old and raise grandchildren and hold her wife’s hand as the skin wrinkles, turns translucent?
Sometimes my father asks me if I’ll ever date a man. Sometimes he doesn’t ask. “You are attracted to men, and you dream about falling in love with men,” he says, as if he can will his imaginary daughter into existence merely by speaking about her. Or maybe he is just looking out for my safety.
He’s seen the movies, too.
He loves me.
He doesn’t want me to die."
Racist Halloween costumes are nothing new. Each year, people try to push the envelope. They think they’re being funny, but really, they’re using the freedom of Halloween, the pass we all get to indulge our secret selves, to say, to people of color: “This is how we see you. This is how we think of you.”
Though it is infuriating that we still need to have this conversation about why blackface is unacceptable, there may be some comfort in the knowledge that when people put on the mask of blackface, they reveal who they truly are."
"Foreignness is all around. Only in the heart of the heart of the country, namely the heart of the United States, can you avoid such a thing. In the center of an empire, you can think of your experience as universal. Outside the empire or on the fringes of the empire, you cannot."
Margaret Atwood (via mttbll)