Adam Gnade: A PERSONAL PLEA (UPDATED)
Huge thanks to anyone who’s been helping us save Pioneers Press in this stupid shitty time. Words of encouragement, orders, letters, reblogs, whatever, it all helps. We’re fighting pretty hard to make this work and it’s a goddamn struggle, but we couldn’t do it without you guys.
Sister Rosetta Tharpe – gospel music’s first superstar, the godmother of rock and roll, “the original soul sister,” reconstructionist – waiting for The Blues Train in Chorlton, 1963.
A Year on the Sun
Image Credit: NASA, Solar Dynamics Observatory
This is Bagel Boy (aka Charlie Bucket, Monster) a puppy I helped foster this week. I wasn’t able to keep him due to my apartment situation. Missing out on being the momma to this amazing pup has really lit a fire under my ass. Part of being present in the moment is making sure you are currently living the life you want to live…Not waiting, hoping for a money tree or for something to change magically, for someone to hand you your wishes. It means working each moment to live your best life. (And if your best life includes a rad dog, be ready to accept when the multiverse drops the raddest and cutest one in your lap.)
Styling/Hair/Makeup: Gillian Leos
School was nice because you could say, “Hi, this week was emotionally very difficult, and I tried to do my work but found at times I just couldn’t do anything at all. So here, this is not my best. And actually, I would really appreciate an extension.”
But in adult life there are no extensions. There isn’t extra time. You just have to go. And you will be bewildered at everyone’s capabilities, everyone’s ability to just keep chugging along. It will feel impossible and you will want to say it isn’t worth it. You will want to give up. And maybe you will. I don’t know. Maybe that will feel best. I don’t know what to tell you because I don’t know what to do either.
A beautiful person will die. Your grandma’s house will burn to the ground. You will be across the country and unable to do anything. Unable to even offer a hug. So jokes will seem pointless. Comedy will seem like the dumbest thing you ever heard of. Who needs a fake headline when the real ones are hard enough to swallow. Or is that the point? Is that it? I don’t know and don’t know if I care to know. I am angry and I am sorrowful and I have many things to say that a bit can’t carry. There is so much beyond me that I cannot even think about because I will lose my mind. It will just explode. And if does, maybe pick up the pieces and assemble them into something really clever that can tell the story in a humorous way that allows people to get it while also detaching themselves. Because I am too close, too connected, too emotional. There is so much to do and I can hardly get started.
(Hashtag Tumblr as Livejournal)