A weekend of cuteness, happiness, and shoving misogynistic boys at gigs.
That time we accidentally crashed a wedding in Sri Lanka and ended up being part of the band; singing ‘Sweet Home Albama’ at full passionate volume.
A movement that’s laughed at,
All while we like act that
Throats aren’t slit.
You are unfit
To call yourself an environmentalist,
When really, you’re fundamentalists
In this cult that calls murder
And by no means has ‘recovery’ been perfect. I managed to get myself into a nightmarish relationship straight afterwards, was further emotionally traumatised by Will.. uhh I mean Bill, and ended up quitting my whole life in Oxford. But, at no point since Recovery Day no.1 did I reach the lowest ever again. Why?
Because I knew I could fucking handle it.
Living in a society where satirical art, like Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror, is a key way to get people engaged with problematic societal issues, this movie could be a modern stroke of vegan genius. Its self-awareness -: “who want to watch a whole movie about veganism?” mocks its own existence whilst also pointing out the need for an alternative vegan message that can live alongside documentaries like Earthlings and Forks over Knives.
And I think it’s because, in the real world, I:
Give up pretty easily when I fail at something, thinking “well, I guess this isn’t for me after all”.
Don’t even try in the first place because I am so absolutely terrified of failing that I would rather hold onto the dream of reaching something than actually try to reach it and fail.
Everybody has their own space on the internet. One that they have cultivated for a particular audience, or their own enjoyment. And not every blog, every channel, can be or should be a political or activist one. I guess it’s just about writing about what we know, finding ways to get involved in causes past our regular realm of concern, and understanding that how many likes you get on your breakfast may feel awesome, but it’s not what you got into the blogging world for.
After more than FIVE months of being essentially homeless, I have moved into my new place. With its bathroom-per-person, adorable kitchen space, patio doors-leading-out-into-the-garden charm. With my best friend. It’s safe to say I am so very joyful and so very excited to settle here in Leeds.
I am a tentative waterfall who really does know its way after all,
and the warmth of the rocks I flow over, it’s calling to me
Bhrahami invoked; vibrations spill from my mouth and my fingertips.
Mountain strong, legs of supporting stone,
and shoulders of elastic. They carry me forwards.
And I’m not in control.
I know that, but
I feel okay, okay on this roller coaster
with its faulty harness
and its loosening screws
The dark clouds overhead are threatening to
electrify the metal track
and throw us into a darkness.