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ostensiblynone · 13 minutes
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Jef Bourgeau (American, b.1950)
"James River Trail (Blue Ridge)," 2023
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ostensiblynone · 36 minutes
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I wish tumblr had stories so I could just put this TikTok on it 24/7
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ostensiblynone · 1 hour
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ostensiblynone · 1 hour
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do you guys think the professor listens to chappell roan
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ostensiblynone · 1 hour
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before hotdogs existed people at baseball games would just eat sticks and rocks
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ostensiblynone · 2 hours
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you guys wanna see the most accurate and blasphemous representation of the words ‘catholic shaming’?
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ostensiblynone · 3 hours
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be the creature people catch glimpses of in their car’s headlights
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ostensiblynone · 4 hours
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I am stuck in the time loop because I’m trying to change the future. You are stuck in the time loop because you can’t let go of the past.
We are NOT the same.
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ostensiblynone · 4 hours
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Ask Polly
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ostensiblynone · 5 hours
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i used to watch buzzfeed unsolved to sleep and it got to the point that i was having dreams of being graphically murdered while ryan narrated it
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ostensiblynone · 5 hours
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the indescribable annoyingness that having new entry level knowledge into a field of study gives you is so unbelievably funny to me. babby psych students who become obsessed with diagnosing their friends with personality disorders for disagreeing with them. babby paleo students who get irrationally angry at plastic dinosaur toys for children. newly-identifying chefs/foodies who are ready to have a meltdown on anyone who cooks a steak to a wellness level they don’t enjoy. if youve ever wondered why every subreddit for every topic is Like That this shit is why
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ostensiblynone · 17 hours
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ostensiblynone · 17 hours
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ostensiblynone · 23 hours
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Well, you know we don’t love each other anymore. We’re just habits—bad habits. And when love’s gone, there’s nothing left but admiration and respect.
THE PALM BEACH STORY —1942, dir. Preston Sturges
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ostensiblynone · 1 day
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[“When I first came out as a lesbian in 1971, identity politics were so pervasive that this modality didn’t even have a name; it was simply the sea in which every queer sank or swam. One of the key assumptions of identity politics is that we can reveal in one grand social drama of coming out the absolute inner core of truth that makes up one’s “real self.” Coming out is seen as a process like peeling away the layers of an onion or the petals of an artichoke. Identity politics also assumes that your political allies will have to be people who share your identity because nobody else could understand your oppression or really be committed to fighting it; that people who share some aspects of your sexuality but not others are either afraid to come out or traitors to the cause; that it’s not possible for someone to change the way they label themselves without being dishonest or cowardly.
Now I see queer politics quite differently. I know from personal experience that I can’t trust somebody just because their sexual preferences or their gender identity resembles my own. I know we can make allies who are indignant about injustice even if it does not impinge directly upon their own lives. I see coming out as a lifelong process that proceeds as I become ready to understand and accept aspects of myself which bear lessons I need to learn at different points in my life. Each new coming out does not recreate me as a whole new person; I think some people view it this way, but this is crazy-making and too compartmentalized for me. It’s more like being able to see each and every spoke of the wheel that makes up my being, or like opening up and furnishing another new room of my soul.
I wonder what coming out would be like if we were not forced into these defensive positions of tribal loyalty and us-them thinking. What if we could say to a friend who was embarking on a new coming out, “I love you, and so I must also love this new aspect of yourself. Because I care about you I want to know more about it. Let’s both learn from this.” Instead, what usually happens is a great deal of indignation, betrayal, and rejection. I think this is because a person who is coming out threatens the identities of former acquaintances, partners, and coworkers. If someone else’s identity can be fluid or change radically, it threatens the boundaries around our own sense of self. And if someone can flout group norms enough to apply for membership in another group, we often feel so devalued that we hurry to excommunicate that person. This speaks to our own discomfort with the group rules. The message is: I have put up with this crap for the sake of group membership, and if you won’t continue to do the same thing, you have to be punished.
We seem to have forgotten that the coming-out process is brought into being by stigma. Without sexual oppression, coming out would be an entirely different process. In its present form, coming out is reactive. While it is brave and good to say “No” to the Judeo-Christian “Thou Shalt Nots,” we have allowed our imaginations to be drawn and quartered by puritans. I believe that most of the divisions between human sexual preferences and gender identities are artificial. We will never know how diverse or complex our needs in these realms might be until we are free of the threat of the thrown rock, prison cell, lost job, name-calling, shunning, and forced psychiatric “treatment.”
I do not think human beings were meant to live in hostile, fragmented enemy camps, forever divided by suspicion and prejudice. If coming out has not taught us enough compassion to see past these divisions, and at least catch a vague glimpse of a more unified world, what is the use of coming out at all? I have told this story, not to say that anybody else should follow me or imitate me, but to encourage everyone to keep an open mind and an open heart when change occurs. The person who needs tolerance and compassion during a major transformation may be your best friend, your lover, or your very self. Bright blessings to you on the difficult and amazing path of life.”]
patrick califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000
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ostensiblynone · 1 day
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The tomb of a pastor's wife and stillborn child in a church in Hindelbank, Switzerland, 1751, depicting their resurrection.
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ostensiblynone · 2 days
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the extent that i would be at emo night at sneaky dees every single weekend is crazy. you would think i was canadian.
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