What's a blog?

Northbound down the strip.

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 09:23:31 -0400

Northbound down the strip.

Southbound down the strip.

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 09:22:54 -0400

Southbound down the strip.

Planet Hollywood Towers

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 09:19:04 -0400

Planet Hollywood Towers

Paris Hotel on the strip of Vegas.

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 09:17:39 -0400

Paris Hotel on the strip of Vegas.

Pyramid Head-Silent Hill

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 07:00:05 -0400

Pyramid Head-Silent Hill

You’re Special.

Tue, 30 Aug 2011 11:59:19 -0400

You’re Special.

thisislongboarding: SLOADEDP (by TheColorJoseph)

Tue, 30 Aug 2011 01:50:23 -0400

thisislongboarding:

SLOADEDP (by TheColorJoseph)

Boulder Longboarding: Community Boogie Sweet longboard dancing...

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 15:50:13 -0400

Boulder Longboarding: Community Boogie

Sweet longboard dancing in this(:

skymanslaughter: fitvillains: On May 29th, 2011 I got slutty...

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 15:24:15 -0400

skymanslaughter:

fitvillains:

On May 29th, 2011 I got slutty for a cause.

See my post about Slut Walk here: http://fitvillains.tumblr.com/post/5986795214/slut-walk-montreal-a-modest-protest-against

Get informed. Check your assumptions. When women attack other women for ‘getting raped’, it makes my skin crawl. Crawl. And makes me nauseous.

Things like…

Well she shouldn’t have been out on that street so late. Unless there was ‘rapists on the loose’ signs everywhere, it wasn’t her fault. No one should assume they are going to be raped when they WALK their own neighborhood. Because rape is a crime. Walking is a means of transportation.

Well, she shouldn’t have been at a party and been that drunk. Being drunk? Also, not asking to be raped. A man who would take advantage of a drunk woman deserves to be punished, not excused. And there is a difference between regretting a one night stand with someone you probably shouldn’t have slept with, and being so drunk that you couldn’t give consent in the first place.

Well, she’s a slut, so I don’t believe her. She was probably asking for it. Sluts say yes. Victims said no. If she says she was raped, chances are she was raped. Cases of false reports are incredibly rare. Cases of no reports? The norm. Most women would rather not admit or pursue their rapist because of judgments like these: making it easier for YOU and YOU and YOU to be raped by the same man. The man who thinks it’s okay. Because he’s gotten away with it before.

We have to be safe. We have to take precautions. But NOTHING excuses the behavior of someone who would take advantage of ANY situation to insert his penis in your vagina or mouth or anus, touch you, pin you down, against your will, thrust himself inside you, make you feel dirty, terrify you, leave you with nightmares, scar you, give you STI’s, and make it harder for you to look everyone in the eye. Rape victims don’t ever fully rid themselves of that feeling, and few get justice for the event that changed them; not for the better.

A yes is a yes. It is loud & clear. Without that ‘YES’, assume the answer is no. Oh, and skirts can’t talk. Just so you know. Neither can makeup, reputations, or drunken girls. Unless you get an emphatic YES, the answer is No.

I’ve never been raped, but I’ve spoken with victims through group counseling & volunteer work in Montreal. And aside from the rape itself, one recurring theme is that they all seem to feel that the worst victimization is done afterwards… mostly by other women. Check yourself.

OMG THIS IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT. It makes me seethe with anger and revulsion when people victim-blame. It happens in regular conversation. I get told not to do something even though I’m an adult and can probably take care of myself. I do carry around weapons, but that’s also because I’m tiny and not a very good fighter. But the point: TEACH PEOPLE TO STOP RAPING OTHER PEOPLE. STOP STOP STOP TELLING PEOPLE HOW TO NOT GET RAPED BECAUSE IT DOESN’T WORK. FUCK.

Photo

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 05:19:17 -0400

Photo

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 01:19:21 -0400

I just had one of like, the most terrifying dreams i've ever had.

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 22:01:43 -0400

I’m in some sort of dirt house, like in the desert of the middle East, being dragged down a hallway by my hair by a tan (probably middle Eastern) man and put into the back of a room filled with pigs. There’s someone else in the room and i don’t know who it is. It’s a man, maybe a teenager. He doesn’t talk. I fall asleep for a moment, wake up, and i have cuffs and shackles on, being forced to my feet by a tan man in a robe (maybe the same one as before.). There’s another man behind him. Middle Eastern. Short black hair. Little facial hair. Weaing dirty jeans and a T-shirt. He’s holding an AK-47 (of course :b) but, he looks like he has sympathy in his eyes. I think to myself, ‘Judging by his mug and possible look of sympathy.. He hasn’t been working here (wherever here IS) long.’

I’m being taken out of the room by the man in the robe and the man with the AK-47 follows behind. As we exit the room another pair of middle eastern men go in, probably to retrieve the man who in there with me. One man older, wearing a robe. Another younger, in dirty jeans and a T-shirt, wielding a gun. I’m being led down the same dirt hallway i was dragged through before, thinking ‘Atleast they have the decency to allow me to use my own feet’.

We go through a door that leads outside to a dirt field surrounded by a dirt fence and filled with goats. Old, young, healthy, dying (possibly diseased), and a pile of.. limbs? Goat limbs and carcusses, nowhere a full one. I gag, but keep from throwing up. A man dressed in a black robe and white turbin puts his hand in front of us and we halt. He slaps the man(/teenager?) who was in the room with me and then turns to me, lifts my chin so he can see my face.

I’m guessing he orders the men to take us to a small room on the opposite side of the dirt field than we entered because that’s the way he pointed after he let go of my face and, well, the men who were leading me away were following the man’s instructions and i followed theirs. This room was empty, besides the quiet man(/teenager?) who was put in the last room with me. Or was i put in the same room as him? I don’t remember. But we were put in THIS room together, so i should try to talk to him and maybe figure out how slim a chance of survival is.

I ask his name. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me. He’s not tall, but he’s not short. He’s American, I think. I ask where he’s from. He doesn’t answer. Still looking down. I ask, “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen”

American, “man/teenager”.

That’s the only thing he ever says to me or I say to him, even, because just after he answers we are dragged out into the dirt, goat field and sat against a dirt wall. They take our shackles off but, then they yell at us in some middle Eastern language. I don’t know what’s going on. But, there are goat carcusses maybe ten feet away from me and i just want to cry.

A large man stands half the courtyard away and does terrifying, unthinkable things with the corpse of a goat. I don’t even see how this is possibly happening in front of me. He’s holding the front half of a carcusse by the top of its head. He reaches up into the unprotected abdominals and grabs the spine. Then he rips the whole spine, connecting with the skull out of the carcusse and drops it like a bag of meat.

I scream and run with the freedom of my own feet. I don’t know how i ran so fast to avoid men with guns… I find my way through the same dirt hallway i was dragged through before, and find myself in an alley. I run through it and through smaller crevices in between buildings as to stay out of sight if anyone was even following me. I stay still in one crevice and wait there, quietly. I hear no running or panicked shouting.

I see a double-decker bus stop in the alley and i run to it. I get on and try to bribe the driver to take me to the Embassy with a $100 in American money. I tell him i can exchange it for currency from whatever country this is when we get there. He says through a thick accent, “Ohh nooo… We need to get you back to the slaughterfarm. That’s where you belong. They have your papers. Without your papers you can’t leave the country, anyway.”

I don’t know how he knows all of that, but i cry. He drives maybe three blocks in the direction the bus was already facing. The driver says, “Don’t die.” I roll my eyes and step off the bus. Staring into the same dirt hallway I was once dragged down before, I see more dust than usual, floating in the air. Then the ground starts trembling. I see all of the remaining live goats run toward me and the man in the black robe and white turban chasing behind them carrying an AK-47.

The goats veer off too my left after leaving the hallway. This man is just staring at me with hate in his eyes. I still don’t know why i’m here, so i don’t know what i did to this man or anyone to deserve this. Maybe they just want to take me for a slave for no reason. I’m not having it.

The man blinks twice. Lifts the gun to his eye and shoulder. He’s probably aiming at my head because i hear a loud gunshot and then..

I wake up.

<3

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 19:44:24 -0400

Photo

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 15:07:57 -0400

"I love my lobes! <3"

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 15:05:35 -0400

“I love my lobes! <3”

thesteev: Pivoting around my buddy Conrad.

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 14:47:17 -0400

thesteev:

Pivoting around my buddy Conrad.

There’s a platypus controlling me..

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 08:28:57 -0400

There’s a platypus controlling me..

zoenoelle: yoko ono—“blood piece”

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 08:23:27 -0400

zoenoelle:

yoko ono—“blood piece”

The Riviera

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 07:36:46 -0400

The Riviera

Fuckin’ around.

Sun, 28 Aug 2011 07:35:32 -0400

Fuckin’ around.