it’s beginning, it’s beginning, it’s beginning

“tell me about it,” my sister asked a few weeks ago.

i responded by mumbling and laying dramatically on the kitchen chair, which by the way, is the hardest thing to sit on for days at a time. “i don’t know how.”

“well you’re gonna have to figure it out if you’re posting about it.”

blah.

“it” in this case is referring to a very cool person’s book that’s coming out in a couple days or months, give or take, and by now you should know that cool person’s name, which is weez, and her book, the lightest heaviest things, or at least heard *some* kind of iteration of the concept known as subpar art. if you remain oblivious, well. i feel sorry for you. and will probably enlighten you by yeeting a copy at your face.

anyway, weez must’ve made the mistake of entrusting me with something, because she asked me to help her out with throwing books at people’s faces getting tlht out to the people, whoever the people may be. and i must’ve made the mistake of assuming i could, because the next thing i knew i was swiping through a copy for review and going “what what whAT” for an hour.

so anyway, here’s me figuring this out and here’s the book of potential cult classic status, per weez’s interview with clara (read that or i will fight you).

roll film.


“The trees are tall, and the giants are not actually taller than the trees. You told me that the giants aren’t real. I don’t know if they’re real. They look real, to me, but they also don’t seem real. You don’t see them, either.”

Peri, alone in her house, has spent a lot of time observing the silent, strangely sad giants that move just on the edge of her vision. They never speak. They never laugh. They are always alone. Drowning in her own loneliness, Peri doesn’t think much about where the giants came from, or what they might need from her.

When Peri’s best friend Wink starts seeing the giants too, though, they decide that they need to find out why the giants are so sad and alone. This sets them off on a quest that neither of them is quite prepared for, through the woods and up the mountain.

Magic, melancholy, and myth collide in their lives, showing them a world both worse and better than they ever knew.

It’s beginning.


liked

the atmosphere. HHHHH. i’m a sucker for the ambience of a place, and the lightest heaviest things did not disappoint in that regard. there’s many ways the stereotypical country story can go stale, but the way this one went was refreshingly simple and yet heartwarming, like a place you’ve seen before but don’t really know. the instant i read through the first few pages i remember thinking “yep. i wanna explore this place a little more.”

the characters. peri, the main character and the newest fictional love of my life needs a HUG. i admired her complexity and really connected to her fears and thoughts and the way she saw her world. the little details weez spun along the journey and the way she revealed peri’s story bit by bit was very cool, to say the least. wink is a fascinating best friend/foil character that has a lot of pluck and nerve and also needs a hug. she reminds me of samwise gamgee’s character but with childhood angst, as we all tend to have. ull, my dude, is a friendly hungry magic kid with excellent rhyming skills, and i would’ve liked to have met him. his arc is bittersweet, and i think it was very well done. all of the kids have a lot of story that gets revealed through the people they meet, that for a moment it’s like they could be real kids.

the dialogue. the oneliners and quips and back and forths were hilarious. to prove my point:

“we’re going to save the giants.”

“we’re on a quest.”

“we’re hungry.”

*chef’s kiss* i rest my case.

this banter and the humor behind it carries on throughout the story in a very endearing way, and i simply don’t have enoug hwords to say how much i like it. it’s just that good. go read it for yourself.

would’ve liked

more backstory. i think the plot is solid in terms of how engrossed can you get in a book and end up crying a few dozen times, but could’ve done with having more exposition, more details, more development into each character and the world they interact in and with. there’s so much for potential and if anything this feels like a teaser of being so close and yet not close enough to actually entering paper and ink and living in that world ourselves.

giants. i say this because even though the giants are peri’s catalyst and a big part of the book, and even though we get descriptions of them and why they’re here, i didn’t feel like i saw them exactly? that may be something left to each reader, that may be something that comes with rereading, and that may be because all that needed information will come somewhere else. who knows?

just more in general. everything in this book was great, full stop. no denying that. but i think in the way a bunch of little kids want to know what’s next when someone tells them a story, readers of this one will be absorbed enough to demand more, simply because it’s at a level that can only get better with more of it. so go read it and get weez to write another one because i won’t be able to rest otherwise *nods seriously and gets attacked with incoming pillows*

overall

this book feels like childhood. it feels like growing up and adventure and food and friends and running and bravery, sadness and pain and fear and all of these elements of our younger selves woven into magic and fantasy and it feels nostalgic, and it feels foreign, and it feels right, and it feels like this search for home, like coming home.

but in many ways, it’s a beginning. not just for these characters and the story, but also for the indescribably talented weez phillips and her not-so-secret superpower of making me people cry. i really think that ability and the creations that come from it will only grow, and how amazing to be at the start of it all watching it happen. i also can’t believe i’d lasted this long without realizing the periwinkle pun. dang.

i’d recommend this book for people who enjoy filling in the blank details of a book with whatever their imagination gives them,

readers who enjoy growing up stories and adventure,

and kids who feel alone, and scared, and just need a little shot of hope to go bravely.

it’s a feel think hope kinda thing, and this book presents that wonderfully.


click here to preorder The Lightest Heaviest Things on Kindlehere to add it on Goodreadsand here to see the Redbubble merchandise collection. (and leave reviews and posts wherever you do that so weez has to write another one : D )

(also. that merch. hhh.)

did i do it? was it okay?

~been running for so long, jo~

^^ that song reminds me of this so go listen to it while you read it

w

assorted bottles on display in store

w

walmart shopping after work, after the end of the day and everyone’s ready to grab their frozen pizzas and go home.

“uhhh.” you stare at your camera, and then you stare and the rows of mini backpacks that hang before you. your sister slings an arm around your neck and pats a sleek looking black half pint.

“see anything you like?” panic. how are you supposed to choose anything? the idea of getting something absolutely brand new is foreign, almost dirty. everything you’ve ever possessed with the exception of your precious camera has either been stolen from dumpsters or carefully picked from thrift store racks. there’s something thrilling about getting something for your very own, something terrifying.

“the marvel ones look cool,” you mumble, eyes a captain marvel one in the kids section. you’re still a kid, after all.
“unless you wanna explain a flaming superhero on campus, i’d settle for something more discreet.” they rest their arm on your head simply because you’re short and you glower. “or not. whatever catches your eye.”

you pause. “do you mean that?”
“always.”

the walmart is left with one bobbing brown leather backpack and a jojo siwa balloon punched in the face.

i

two persons playing hockey on ice field

i

“i can’t keep TRACK of all of you,” the skate guard laughs as a bunch of little kids push them around the ice, tiny handmedown skates running against the cold to push this giant human around, for, you know, practice.

it is the second to last week of the skating season, and you wait for your friend to finish wrapping her scarf around her head as you have a small conversation about skating.

“i like it, i just wish i had lessons,” she sighs, staring over at some other girl on the ice whose teacher cheers her on as she does a cool one-legged spinny trick and doesn’t fall over. on the other side, the little kids have all fallen into a heap and their adult takes turns picking one up and dragging across the ice, giggling as they feel the sensation of floating on cold air.

“me too,” you agree. you take off your coat and step onto the ice, carefully pushing yourself off. you skate for a while, it feels like forever.

“hey, hey kid!” the skateguard comes up to you and the other children on the ice. “this is how you make a stop the hockey style, okay?”

without question everyone stands still and watches as they dart across the ice, sharply leaning on one side and letting a spray of ice fly across the rim. someone applauds. they come back proud.

“now you try it and see how it goes.”
“in figure skates?” you protest.

they throw their hands up in the air. “they’re all skates, aren’t they?”

t

poor lighted hallway

t

“…therapy?” the nurse asks kindly, handing you flip flops to walk in instead of the strange cloth sock contraptions they give upon arrival. you take them shyly, you’re not used to being offered anything, you feel guilty, you need to be tough, you have nearly died.

“is it expensive?”

the nurse laughs. “maybe, but your mind’s worth it.” they sit down and explain a way of healing you’d only ever heard as a joke, as a taboo element of life nobody wants to hear about, as something you never thought you needed. it sounds… it sounds good.

“we can set you and your family up for a session after you’re discharged,” the nurse finishes. “or… just you,” they add, watching your face crumple from passive to pained. “do… you want to talk about it?”

“uh, can i take you up on your offer another time?” you might be sidestreet, but you have manners.
“okay.”

when another time comes, you talk, and for the first time, you are listened to.

k

photo of pendant lamp turned on

k

kitchen island at 10 pm, sitting cross-legged as your brother fishes for spoons in the utensil drawer.

“how’s it going?”

you answer by nearly falling off the island in exhaustion, but thankfully your hands grip the side in time and you give a sheepish grin. “oops.”

the truth is that daily mundane life is so freakishly different from living in a state of survival, and you’re not used to waking up to do, to be, to thrive. to running, to being free to run, to interacting with other humans, to do normal daily mundane human stuff. you are used to playing mind games you never win and cussing the person in the mirror, to locked doors and dark windows. you love it and you hate it and you don’t know what to do with it.

“ahh, sounds like you need some sugary motivation for your troubles.” the brother places a bowl in front of your regrettably small form, tucks a spoon into your tired hands, and lifts a giant carton of ice cream from the freezer.

“you’re tired too, aren’t you?” you say, propping the ice cream scoop against the white cardboard to dig into the heavenly coldness.

the brother simply winks and asks for two scoops of chocolate.

the giant cloudman


looks at me angrily, his long tubular nose pointing down at the little leather cushion i have placed myself on. i’m here because i have nowhere else to be; the power’s gone, my phone is at 32%, and i’m missing acting class as we speak.

giant cloudman is here because he has nowhere else to be too, only, he is the power, and tonight is his night to expend it all.

“shouldn’t you be asleep?” giant asks me in much coarser language. a bolt of lightning runs through his body, causing me to jump. i don’t doubt he smirked at that in the darkness.

“probably,” i reply.
“then shouldn’t you be bloody well at it by now?” giant cloudman is a rough brit, apparently.
“perhaps,” i say, tilting my head up to stare at the immense space of sky giant takes up. moly and mice, he’s huge. imagine him picking me up from my small spot in the roof to have a sterner chat. i’d both be dead from fear and insisting he fly me over to the moon, and then we’d have a talk about different levels in the atmosphere, and probably out of spite he’d reluctantly zoom me over to my sister’s flat in the states and i’d have to explain why i was wet and also with no other clothes except a tank top and some shorts (typical jo) and then i’d turn around to blame it on giant cloudman and he’d be gone already—

giant sighs. thunder echoes through the trees, and i nearly drop my phone.

“then why aren’t you?”
perhaps his first sympathetic question all night.

“i’m a creature of obstinance,” i begin.
“ah, don’t fool yourself dear, you jumped with that bolt of lightning.”
“well. yes. but i’m still here, aren’t i?”
“you shouldn’t be—“
“precisely! and so i am.”

is that the wind flapping back and forth or is giant shaking his head?

“you— you—“ he stumbles in his words, taking a good look at my hunched over appearance, trying to figure out the right words to address and scold me by.
“take your time,” i tell him. i reach out for some crackers in my other pockets and munch in his confusion.
“—you young… people make no sense these days.”
“didn’t you just form like, tonight?”
giant cloudman laughs in my complacent ignorance.

“don’t you know the saying? water has memory. and i,” he gets closer, rain starting to fall.

“i remember everything.”

i taste the rain and brush off a struggling ant off my leg as i look the giant in the eyes. “how’s that been like for you?”

he seems taken aback at my camaraderie. “tiring. very tiring. in such a short time this place seems to be getting worse and worse, thanks to fools like you.”
“tell me about it.” i munch on a another cracker.

there’s a volley of lightning that ripples throughout the sky, evoking purple and red and blue all at once in the lonely, young night. i cross my legs and watch as giant cloudman has conversations with his coworkers in the storm making business, and he eventually returns to me.

“you enjoy this stuff?” his brogue tries, but it can’t hide his confusion.
“he— er, heck yeah,” i say through muffled crackers.
“do tell why. i’ve never seen a child grin at lightning. are you mad?”
“oh, definitely,” i say. “it must be amazing to have such power. so… gah. so cool, so strong, so in control.”

i might’ve stoked his ego a bit. the giant gets louder. “ahh, and you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

i stop.

“no.” i say honestly. “i would never know what that’s like.”

it’s the giant’s turn to stop.
“oh.”
“yeah.”
“well… i’m uh, sorry,” he says gruffly. i don’t suppose he’s used to making apologies.

“you get used to it,” i tell him. i look around at the darkness around me and inhale. the power has been off for a while, and yet i’d rather stay here and have this little chat with a being that could potentially kill me given the right motives. i’m not sure what to make of that.

there are murmurs in the air as the storm people begin their nightly torrent, and giant man sounds quieter when he says “in all seriousness, you should go find some rest.”

i stifle a laugh. “hmmmm. that doesn’t happen for people like me. doubt you get any of it in your kind of work either.”

the giant almost smiles. or maybe that’s the sudden curve of electricity that runs through what i imagine is his mouth. “you’re observing. it’s people like you that can’t be left alone, you’d find out how the world works and try to fix all its broken parts.”

i would respond if he doesn’t immediately crouch down to where i am, the roof space around me getting darker and darker, and i’m about to back up against the wall when he whispers (well, rumbles, he is a cloud after all),

“don’t give that up now, alright?”

i manage to stutter. “i…”
“promise?”

he doesn’t have to get me to notice his quickly dissipating form, i can see for myself that it’s fading into the blanket of clouds that are coming to shred the sky with more electricity. it’s now or never.

“yeah, no, absolutely,” i say. “i’ll… i’ll keep… observing.”

giant cloudman drenches me in water. i imagine that’s cloud affection for ruffling someone’s head. “good. good then. i better be going.”

but then he turns. and stops. and turns back to me. “i never caught your name.”

“i never caught yours either,” i reply. “perhaps it’s not very important.”

giant cloudman doesn’t seem content with that. “then i’ll have to name you. let’s see… small, cocky, slightly tragic, i’m calling you little storm. farewell, little storm.”

he turns to leave, and as a goodbye i yell through the steadily pouring rain, “why little storm?”

giant cloudman keeps floating away, but his voice echoes in the next rumble of thunder that passes over me.

“because you’ve got a bigger one coming.”

color outside every line

assorted-color Crayola crayons

i finished outlining today.

hhhhhhh! i did something today!

Starkid Rachael Soglin GIF - Starkid RachaelSoglin ICanFinallyLayDown GIFs

and you know what

it’s… not good.

there’s so many plot holes. i don’t have any of the characters fully fleshed out, the ending is somewhat anticlimatic, it’s messy and it’s me and it may never see the light of day.

and i think that’s like, that’s something that tends to run through every artist’s mind, you know? like instagram ruins our pictures, we miss a few dozen layers on a project, we hear a wobble in a cover of a song, and we sigh because it’s not good, it’s not right, it’s not perfect and it’s just pathetic and sad and us, which somehow makes it worse.

isn’t that sad? to be disappointed in the thing that makes us us?

i guess.

back to the outline. i don’t even know how much of it i’m actually gonna follow, you know? and like, i was battling a pesky mosquito that was attacking my feet while trying to decide the future of an imaginary person in an imaginary, broken world, and–

that’s not good. but it’s not bad either.

creation, as a concept and as a reality, as a process and a finished work, has always been messy. i think the only person who ever properly nailed a piece of art on the first try was God and like, look what happened to that. we just… messed it up. free will and what not.

and so, we’re left with this yearning for beauty and for substance, for validation and for acceptance, we put pen to paper and brush to paint and fingers to frets and we try and try and try and it’s just a little bit off, and somehow i suppose we feel a pang of disappointment that just pushes us to do better.

what if… the slightly off… is… enough…?

i don’t know what i was trying to say after that,

but it was gonna tie in to me looking over what little of a story i have and being like “hey, that’s actually kinda interesting.”

but catch me being coherent, right? ha. no.

can anything be truly perfect? no. people are mean. life is hard. the world is messy. there’s a literal virus spreading around. how can we demand perfection from ourselves when the whole of humanity has been trying and failing for like, at least a thousand years. maybe two thousand.

but yet we still stare at the moon through an atmosphere with a hole in one of its layers, and it’s like “oh, what a pretty moon” even if it’s the same one that’s been around since 2001. and we eat ice cream from walmart and still call it delicious, and who knows how much artificial food coloring is in that? and we look at a kid’s messy wax crayon drawing and we go “masterpiece! this is going on the fridge for at least a week!”

so i’m just thinking, perfection is not the source or the equivalent of good.

even broken humans need grace, right?

but that kinda makes it easier, to create art that is flawed and songs are maybe a little offkey. stories that maybe have problems but also bring a whole lot of comfort.

and i just think that’s so cool

that i can find someone’s hastily written work apologizing profusely for how messy and unedited it is and i’ll read it and i’ll be laughing and crying and saying “HEY COME BACK! YOU DID GOOD WITH THIS I LOVE IT!” and then it’s not just a messy work, it’s a messy, good work, and that makes all the difference.

i wonder if that’s a thing God did, before it all went south. to instill a sense of Good that isn’t swayed by brokenness? yes? no?

maybe?

so, anyway. i finished my outline. and i have loads of expired chocolate and a computer that is dying every second it’s being used, in a world that cries for the thing that i’m now choosing to accept.

good.

it’s kinda cool, really.

~i’m serious, let’s make a list, jo~

everyone here was all about that superhero life

OMG Groot Is Actually Dead And Baby Groot Is His Son
groot? me
the fire? everything else

why am i doing this?

for *fun*. obviously.

Avengers Bucky GIF - Avengers Bucky Falling - Discover ...

anyway.


How were you introduced into the MCU fandom?

iron man, 2008, at a very tender age. the rest goes downhill from there.

What’s your favorite Marvel film?

the winter soldier. the love of my life and also the only thing the-brothers-who-don’t-deserve-any-award-whatsoever did right.

Top favorite Marvel character?

daily bucky barnes on Instagram: “💥: strikeforce #1 . . . . . . . . . [tags]  #buckyupdates #captainamerica #buckybarnes #steverogers #sebastianstan #marvel #wintersoldier…”

<– i rest my case.

actually no i don’t do you Know how much bucky was robbed the man has 47 lines total in the franchise and whose fault was it that he’s reduced to “pew pew pew punch” (despite being the winter soldier and being trained to fight hand to hand combat but no let’s forget that hahaha here give him a gun and make him a basic brainwashed assassin) and also just steve’s long lost friend like no he has one of the richest character arcs and wouldn’t even be in the mcu if it wasn’t for ed brubaker literally bringing his fanfiction to the comics like are you Kidding me steve isn’t bucky’s world he’s just a big part of it bucky has so much more he has an amazing relationship, a kid he adopted from another mission and a whole organization dedicated to helping people like this was all in the 2016-2018 arcs so how. dare. you. just call him a sidekick and honestly the russos lucked out with tws because ever since they!! have just CONTINUED TO MESS HIS STORY UP and i will die mad about it

If you were transported into the MCU and had to trade places with one of the superheroes, who would you choose?

ehhhhh wait i can’t use comics? dangit. uhm. probably skye johnson from aos (also she counts fite me)

What are some of your favorite quotes from the films?

“you’re repeating yourself– you’re repeating yourself”

“your mother’s name was sarah… you used to wear newspaper in your shoes”

“i’m, uh, gonna hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich”

“i am groot!” “NO

“… and i have a bow and arrows, none of this makes sense.”

“you’re taking all the stupid with you”

“everyone went on a life changing trip with zuko, i want—” hold on that’s not marvel heh

Which crew would you want to be part of the most: Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, or Revengers?

the thunderbolts; all of these groups are chaotic and have too much drama to deal with.

Favorite and least favorite ship?

fave: scott x hope. healthy, based on partnership, a relationship of equals, they don’t just share love, they admire and respect each other and that plays well into everything they do. idk i just like the idea of a relationship being more than just pure romantic attraction, what’s the point of keeping it otherwise?

least fave: nat x bruce. NOT because it doesn’t work, but because the way they wrote it was terrible. if you *want* to write an out of canon ship, at least write it well add some character development, don’t play with your audience’s feelings, don’t reduce one person’s past to specifically prey on their gender (i’m looking at you, whedon– there are SO many worse things other than infertility and you KNOW nat is stronger than that) and don’t just grab the nearest guy available. shame. i could write something better and i am ace. this had potential and they Messed It Up.

Favorite and least favorite villain?

fave: you know what, i’m gonna say hydra as a whole, because i find it fascinating how easily their ideals, their people, and their poison is spread throughout the captain america films and the powerful analogy that has today. (what? i’m a nerd. get over it.)

least fave: the vulture and mysterio. ALSO not because they’re not evil enough, but i don’t think it’s a good idea to villainize working class people who have to resort to less than acceptable means to provide for themselves and their families. it just makes us sympathize with the elite and rich when they’ve done literally nothing to earn that love.

Unpopular MCU opinion?

sharon carter is *not* a bad character– her writing and everything about how marvel handled her was wrong. her arc is so detailed and amazing, her relationship with steve was really sweet and not just that, it made sense, and the mcu just ignored all of that and messed it all up. even with how her actor was treated, they just reduced sharon to this character that came out of nowhere. i hope tfatws gives her the proper development she deserves.

(hold on i just remembered that people ALSO do this for my girl captain marvel and gihukjgfhngieukjrhgniujfkn i’ma deal with you buffoons later)

What’s your favorite Stan Lee cameo scene?

*inhales* *exhales* *cries* mr. lee, sir, the world kinda needed you rn

Do you like Marvel?

it’s problematic and troublesome, but absolutely.

Thor: long hair or short hair?

thor: any hair (why is this a question)

What was the first Marvel movie you watched?

iron man 1, we go allll the way back.

Toby Maguire, Andrew Garfield, or Tom Holland as a better Spider- Man (there is only one right answer)?

hah, you’re all WRONG, the best spiderman is john mulaney and i will say that to my gRaVe—


well. that was fun. thanks kenechi. 🙂
i think the thing with hyperfixation is that sometimes you move on from your interests, and the fierce passion that kept you awake for weeks eventually channels away to something else–

but everytime something comes or a reference is made, it comes back again, and that little rush of oh yes this shaped my childhood and helped me become the person i am now is always one little blip of good?

so yeah. i won’t be this calm when the black widow movie comes out, appreciate the somewhat coherent ramble you got today.

~he’s really good at that, jo~

take two

two reels

okay.

we’re gonna try again.

i don’t think i’ll ever stop feeling unimportant. i don’t think i’ll ever get over being ignored. i don’t think i’ll ever stop being scared, or feel truly confident, and i don’t believe that i’m going to be someone great.

but… i’m going to be someone. and that is great.

so.

so i’m gonna make subpar art even if i question its worth, and i’m gonna share it even if nobody sees it, and i’m gonna write songs and sing them even if they’re never heard, and i’m going to run away and come back with things nobody has ever seen before, and will never see,

and i’m going to create little paper cranes for good luck, and send them out into the world knowing they’ll never come back. they’ll fly until they drop and land on someone who will be bonked on the head with a paper crane and then they will have to look up, and then they’ll forget the crane and their head and look at the clouds, and the invisible sky dragons will probably watch in amusement and sprinkle down mind magic to possess them and start having to be and start being, and my paper crane will have fulfilled its purpose, which wasn’t even a purpose, and it was the best one of them all.

i’m gonna write poetry about storms because i like storms. and i’m gonna play minor keys because i like how it sounds. and i’m gonna make little fires out of sticks just to watch them burn and marvel at creation by destruction.

what else am i gonna do?

i’m gonna draw even though it’s not good. and i might write books and not care about editing. and i’m gonna bake and not care about the dishes in the sink. and i’ll writing a broken musical about a broken world and how they learn to piece themselves together.

and i’m gonna tell myself that it’s okay if only one person sees it. if nobody sees it. if nobody says anything, i will take that as my cue to keep talking, and by the time i’m done i’ll have accidentally told the story of history and preserved it through a mishmash of languages and gestures and it’ll be epic.

i want to do more. what more?

i’m gonna talk about stuff even if it doesn’t matter. i’ll talk about people, black and white and red and yellow and brown and every color of the rainbow and i’m going to mention my friend’s grandmother esthella who was so wrinkly when she smiled you couldn’t see her eyes and thus it took me five days to learn she possessed gray eyes, and when you looked into them it was like staring into an underexposed galaxy.

i’m gonna be bolder, maybe a little scaredybraver, and i’ll be nerdy and weird and imperfect and i’ll regret some things and i will learn to love doing things for the sake of doing them and in not caring about making history i will live forever and i suppose i’ll just have to do it alone.

i told two good friends i felt like a wallflower in this sad jaded artist vibe hours and they told me they were there.

and i said “well, so is the wall”

and they replied and said the wall didn’t care about me and they did,
and i do believe they’re right. the canvas is not the friend, but rather for it.

i’m gonna try to push the inner critic potato away and i’ll let my voice crack and my lines smudge and my poetry break and it might not get me anything for my troubles but it won’t be trouble because it’s its own thing and that’s all it needs to be.

so, in advance, i apologize (that’s a canadian thing folx), because starting from now (no we were always trying it just went on and off) i’m going to let myself stop trying to be this and having to be that, speaking here and there, and i’m gonna be me.

i have. no clue who that person looks like.

but i guess i’m gonna find out.

so here we go. roll film.

~
i’m well aware of the shadows in my heart
i want to feel tectonic shifts
i want to be, i want to be astonished
i want to be astonished,
jo
~

everything all at once, i suppose

i have never made sense, i never will, don’t worry too much about it

sick Archives - Reaction GIFs

it’s

MY

breakdown and

I

get to choose the level of teenage angst

*i n h a l e s*

hi! i’m jo! i identify as a moron, allergies include shrimp, dust mites, and the whole world apparently, unaddressed depression Thriving, and you’re watching

*THE SAD TACO TRUCK FIRE CHANNEL*

where nothing, and i can’t stress this clearly enough, nothing, goes right

featuring! war! bloodshed! government invasion of privacy! the beginnings of trauma! my nonexistent sanity! and most importantly, pizza with pineapple on it!

have f u n with That, Kids!


when i die say something nice
wear comfy pajamas and bring fried rice
watch all the instagram stories i set to private
the things i’ve only said in the silence

when i die please gather round
pretend i was a memory you won’t throw out
wipe your tears and blow your nose
forget about it all when you go

when i die if i ever called you friend
do me a favor and for an hour pretend
that the person you came to grieve
actually made any mark in the light of eternity


my pinterest feed seems to worry about me and i admire that very much

like lately it’s been full of angry twitter posts and tumblr rants that cry for the dystopian protagonists to begin saving the day and like, can we handle that rn? nope

so now it has art of fantastical places and edits and happy comics and baking recipes and room inspiration and laugh out loud trashposts and all of this grossly domestic vibe which is super sweet but i wouldn’t ever say that if my life depended on it (nevermind that i just did)

the question is is it pinterest,

or is it the people who i follow that saved me from stressing over another source of bad news

either way, thank you


the following is a snippet of something i sent in to select friends, enemies, and undecided, and i figured it fit with the crack vibes this is emanating, so here you go

"i cannot talk very well. 
especially to big macho guys. 
especially if said big macho guy had seen me successfully hurl a knife into a palm tree and cackle like a stereotypical witch 
(more on that later.)
"a n x i et yyyyy"
"jo:
nightguard:
jo: AGHHH HUMAN"

i figured this out last night watching the storm beat down on the windows and honestly it passes the vibe check

my greatest fear is being irrelevant

insignificance

and i wonder why, you know? is it a mental thing to feel everything more deeply than they’re meant to be? is it just me? could i just inherently not be good enough for anyone to want to interact? will i be doomed to leaving people too stunned to react?

and i don’t know
how would i

what is the point of art if nobody sees it? what is the purpose of a message that isn’t heard? why say anything if nobody listens? why exist if it ultimately doesn’t matter?

and i struggle with reminding myself that things don’t require a useful purpose to be loved, and that is Okay, like how technically nobody needs nutella but the world would be a dismal place without it

and perhaps insignificance isn’t a horror, because then when you do anything nobody can say “but you’re supposed to be meaningful!” because you never were to begin with
so you can just reply, “no, i’m being me” and that’s the best meaningful you can get


so here’s the thing

we’ve saying “black lives matter” seriously for a couple of weeks now and the message has been cried out for literal years

and yet, the overwhelming response seems to be “we Know, Stop Saying It :((”

and that’s frustrating

people being hurt without reason is frustrating. the hurters getting away with it is frustrating. the people who were supposed to help about it doing the exact opposite is frustrating. being ignored and being rejected and being laughed at and being forgotten is frustrating.

so no wonder people shout

just all that to say

harm can be passive


a m i n i p la y l i s t

it would be you – ben rector
so will i – ben platt
battle cry – the family crest
paper rings – taylor swift
king of anything – sara barielles


a self portrait

“don’t we look m a r v e l o u s, isn’t it g a y” – talkfine
(look colors)


oooh some beautiful people did some beautiful things lately:

look it’s weez!

evelyn seems so cool

sarah cracked me up

ahhh clara


and finally some closing notes:

  • it’s summer
  • if you look up june 13 2019 and june 13 2020 on here they’re both drastically different but about the same thing
  • it’s summer!!
  • for independence day everyone should watch hamilton and reconsider their heritage (and also donate to a charity of their choice)
  • look up juneteenth and be still for a moment
  • google baby ducks tripping over their feet
  • call enni a duck in her about page on the 27th (pls i’m not kidding)
  • summer!!
  • remember it’s june love who you love and also respect people’s pronouns
  • do something absolutely horribly stupidly childishly fun that screams summer because yes

⎯  𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 : @𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘭𝘹𝘷𝘦 🔮 * ·゚

~we’re all a little mad sometimes, jo~