#dont mind the old watermark on the first one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janekfan · 4 years

Note

hi mom! quick update: i had a panic attack at work the other day. luckily my coworker/manager knew what it was and helped me out but i still had to do the rest of my shift but at least i got the next day off. hours are still bad but everyone around me is talking about how proud they are of me... i just barely managed to scrape up a 50 cent raise... im one of three people on my shift... i cant take time off. i know you already did one for me but... i dont have much else to bring comfort

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072691

My darling child! <3 <3 <3 This is inadequate! And I shall do better soon! But I love you and hope this offers a little comfort!

When asked later if he’d known, Tim lied. Of course not. He hadn’t realized just how sick Jon had been, certainly didn’t know how long it’d been. After all, no one really saw him most days, skulking as he did around the archives, a flickering, limping shadow among the stacks. Jon didn’t have use for them and Tim didn’t have use for him. Not until they enacted their plan of attack and finished things once and for all.

So no. When he’d dropped by to toss Martin’s research at him he ignored the pallor, the beads of sweat dotted along his forehead and matting his curls. He paid no mind to the dark flush high in his face, the glazed distance in his eyes, the shortness of his breath as he fought to form one coherent thought. A plea veiled in a request and it gave Tim all the excuse he needed to conveniently forget to fetch Martin for him.

“T’Tim...could, could you ask Martin to, to.” Jon could barely finish a thought. Exhausted, he’d been under so much stress, running himself ragged on adrenaline and awful, terrible statements, and he just wanted to see someone kind. Someone who might help him instead of hate him. Someone who maybe didn’t want to hurt him or kill him. Or worse. “I’d like t’to speak with him? P’please?”

“Sure, Boss.”

Martin wasn’t coming.

Martin wasn’t coming and Jon was miserable. But he didn’t blame Martin for staying away. It was alright. He was probably upset with him or angry or had a hundred other reasons to avoid seeing him and it was fine.

Jon let his cheek collide with the tea-stained blotter and slow tears slipped down to join the other watermarks, the rust traces of his blood. With a thin, trembling finger he connected the scars etched into the surface like constellations, each one tied to a memory; some he remembered, some he’d forgotten, some he wished he could forget. Why the old desk even had this second skin he would never know; it was already damaged and scratched and why bother protecting it when it could never go back to the way it was before? Heaving a shaky breath that didn’t give him near enough air to sustain him, Jon closed his eyes. It would be a lovely thing if sleep restored anything or made him feel anything other than relief for the blissful span of unmeasured time he spent not feeling. Floating, dizzy and suspended here in the dark, so tired it seemed like the room was expanding around him with every hard won exhale, shrinking to crush him with every inhale.

It didn’t seem worth it.

Like he wasn’t worth it.

When Jon was asleep, he drifted along unfamiliar currents, memories that didn’t belong to him or anyone that he knew from hundreds of years ago, from mere months ago. From far underwater he listened to the sounds of the office fade away through a closed door that may as well have been a kilometer away for all the strength he had left. Everyone was leaving for the weekend and he wasn’t able to stand. Everyone was leaving and he wasn’t able to call out, snared in these fathomless depths and sinking fast.

Silence.

Thick. Blanketing. Suffocating.

He was drowning in it. Struggling to breach the surface only seconds at a time to snatch at sips of air and seawater.

The safety lights cast shadows that slipped along the floor like oil, into the cracks, up the walls Jon clung to, casting just enough light to see by and aggravating his head. He wanted to sleep. He needed water and it was how he found himself in the dingy break room leaning heavily on the sink, holding on for dear life as he weathered the salt swells, the tilting of the room and the vertigo swirling up, up, up. The first glass met its end on the floor when it slipped from Jon’s grip and he could have sobbed from the loss, from how hard he’d worked for it only to let it go. The next he cradled close in both hands, sitting at the rickety table and gulping down close to half before coming up to breathe. Cool rivulets trickled down his throat, soaked into the neck of his borrowed tee and he shivered. It was always cool down here. For the documents. Only now he was freezing, longing to fall into the cot, just rest, but it was too far away. He’d never make it as he was. He drank the rest of the water and went through the trouble of a second glass. There were no bottles in the fridge, none in the cupboards. He’d never be able to carry it back to his office. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. Why was this so hard? Laying his head on folded arms, Jon let the frustration come, shoulders shaking, and when he woke again he forced more water on himself and limped to the doorway.

Which way?

This time, a cough bubbling up in his lungs jerked him out of the deep. It was harsh, painful, and he lost the remaining water in his stomach from the force of it, tasted iron behind his tongue. Groaning, clutching at his aching chest, Jon realized he was on the floor in the hallway. Not even halfway to his goal and he didn’t remember collapsing. His limbs were lead, movement sluggish because of it, and he only managed to drag himself another meter before the spiraling of the corridor forced him to close his eyes. The fever was relentless, sapping him of everything, throbbing in his bones and boiling in his blood. Jon coughed again. The hot, tight tangle in the center of him drew tighter, a noose, instead of giving way and the black lurking at the edges of his vision swallowed the rest of it.

Martin adjusted the blanket in his arms, thinking again that it would have been easier to have put it in his bag for the walk from the train. He didn’t regret his choice though. He remembered how cold it could get down in the archives and Jon looked like he could do with a bit of comfort these days. Maybe being wrapped up in this monster would do it. Shouldering it, he took the narrow stairs, surprised that no one else was here yet. But considering none of them really wanted to do much actual work these days it made sense. Martin got his things situated at his desk, leaving the comforter overflowing in his chair before heading off to start the tea kettle warming. Glass crunched under his shoes and when Martin turned on the light it was clear Jon had dropped it. What was confusing was that he had left it. He wasn’t the most fastidious about his appearance or his surroundings but even he wouldn’t leave broken glass just lying around. WIth a crease in his brow, Martin swept it up, dumping it in the bin before turning off the squealing kettle. He prepared two mugs as usual and the only reason he didn’t drop them upon seeing Jon crumpled up in the hall was because he froze stock still.

“J’Jon?” He abandoned the tea on a desk, skidding on his knees to a stop at his side. “Jon! Oh, no, no. Jon, wake up.” Ashen, burning up under Martin’s fluttering hands, chest stuttering with half breaths. Had he been like this all weekend? Had he been like this before they all left? How did, why didn’t he check on him? Only when Martin slid his arms beneath his body did Jon stir at all, a pitiful sound of pain pulled from between his lips when he was lifted. A halfhearted cough ending in a moan. “It’s alright, Jon. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” He should call 999. That’s what he should do but with all that had been happening, was that the right choice?

“Mmar’in…” He toed open the door to document storage and laid him down, brushed back his curls and took up the cold hand Jon was reaching with. “Ma--” His grip was barely there when the deep, damp coughing jag stole the air right out of him, so strong Martin levered him forward, worried he would choke. Days. Days alone like this. He swept the tears away with careful fingers, traced the shadows like bruises beneath his eyes.

“It’s alright.” He propped him up against the corner, wishing there were more pillows to make him comfortable and pulled away, heart twisting up when Jon whimpered at the loss. “Hush, now. I’ll be back, I won’t leave you.” Quick as he could Martin gathered supplies, medicine for the raging fever, the blanket he’d brought along, a thermos of tea, checking on Jon in his fitful sleep with each trip. He sounded bad, he was having too much trouble breathing and the crackling wheeze was terrifying. The next time he came back it was with a basin of hot water and a towel. He placed it in Jon’s lap, sliding behind him to steady both him and the bowl, gentling him when he startled. “Just breathe, Jon. This, this should help.” The steam rose, bathing his face with humidity and it was probably wishful thinking but Martin thought each breath came a little easier. When Jon coughed Martin pressed a handful of tissue against his mouth, tossing the mess into the bin and letting him curl up against him for just a few moments. He was so warm. Too warm and Martin plied him with paracetamol and tea, as much as he would take before letting him fall back to sleep, smoothing a damp flannel over his forehead and leaving him to rest.

Soft, cool hands, kind, reassuring words. Jon drank them in like a desert after the rain, let them flood him, take away all the fear and loneliness he was holding onto. Martin was here. Martin was helping. Martin was holding him, saying things he didn’t quite understand in a steady voice. He wanted to cry from the relief of it, of having someone, of not being alone and he thought he might have but there was no teasing or threatening. Nothing he did made him hurt more. Everything he did made him hurt less. There was tea and pillows and blankets, warmth to replace the memory of lying on a cold floor and drifting in and out.

But he was gone now. He’d left him alone and Jon wanted him here. Struggling to his trembling legs he gave himself time to steady, limping out of the room and following the familiar voices and latching onto Martin’s. He sounded upset and Jon wondered if it was because of him. Most people were upset with him these days. He heard Basira and Melanie and Tim and he didn’t want to see them but Martin was with them and he wanted to see Martin. Martin with his kindness he didn’t deserve. He was cold. He was shaking.

Tim was yelling.

It made something in him afraid.

It made his chest hurt. It made it harder to breathe. It made him want to hide. And when he became even louder, Jon shrank into himself. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t.

“And speak of the devil!” Tim’s mocking tone rang in his head like a bell. “He shall appear.”

“Tim!”

“I’m. M’Martin? I.”

“What, Boss? What else could you possibly take that you haven’t already?”

“J’just--” Still human enough to want, too much a monster that he wasn’t allowed to have. Tim took a threatening step forward, and Jon forgot what he was going to say in favor of stumbling backwards, falling to the ground and knocking the air out of himself. He clawed at his neck, suddenly completely unable to breathe when Tim stood over him, towering and tall and seconds later Martin was taking up the whole of his horizon. Just Martin.

“It’s alright, Jon. Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

“W’will you stay?” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the sniggering coming from behind the larger man confirming what he already knew. Martin had already helped him. He had no right to ask for more. But again Martin carried him to document storage and again he placed him on the cot and this time, he stayed with him, wrapping him up warm and safe and tucking his head beneath his chin. Jon shuddered, the aftershocks of his panic and embarrassment still rocketing through him. “Martin...don’t. Don’t feel well…”

“I know.” Martin pet his head slowly and Jon relished it, pressing his ear against his broad chest and listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. He probably wouldn’t remember this anyway, not with a fever like this already making everything so fuzzy, and he wanted, just for a little while, to feel safe. “I’m sorry.” It was nice to hear even though Martin had nothing to apologize for. It was still nice that someone would say sorry to him. Exhausted all over again, the space between blinks stretched longer and longer. “You can sleep, Jon.” But what if he left? He didn’t want him to leave, the thought of it wetting his face and just like before Martin wiped the tears away. “It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #but just enough to cause problems #sickfic #pneumonia #fever #caretaking #sleep #jon just wants hugs #each word of this was painstakingly pulled out of my brain with pliers #i am not loving this one :/

78 notes · View notes

im-just-having-fun-karen · 4 years

Note

any of the unusualish asks

Ill answer all of them also this is the first thing to ever be sent to this blog so congratulations! You're the first!

who’s your celebrity crush?

Donr have one

are you single or taken?

Single as of recent

rant. just do it

i suppose i could rant about a few topics.

COME BACK LATER

do you think its ok to separate the artist from the art?

Im not sure what you mean but if you mean removing a watermark or stealing credit then no.

how many accounts do you have?

3, this is my fanfic blog, my main is in my bio and a have a last one for an undertale au

how many pairs of shoes do you have?

3 if you dont count my one pair of slippers (1 pair was bought for me as a gift, 1 pair was given to my aunt who then gave it to me, and the last i share with my mom since they're technically hers but i just love boots)

opinion on… (specify to the person you’re asking to)

Well you didnt specify so ill just go with you!

Very kind and fun to talk to but we dont talk much and i wish we did more! You're willing to play the weird games i know of (the animal game ect) so thats fun and you're very open minded. You have some problems mentally and sometimes physically but i do too so we get along very well.

how many accounts do you follow?

I cant count them all

favorite brand of clothing?

Dont have one

name a dog

3B-027. Idk man id name a dog that

what unusual talent do you have?

I have sharp teeth and a strong jaw so i could bite a good chunk out of someones arm if i tried.

what’s the most interesting schools gossip you’ve ever heard?

Some bitch named megan liked the new kid who had been there for less then a day and claimed they were dating even tho she didnt know his name

ever prank called a store?

Nah

what’s your coffee order?

Dont have one, i dont usually drink coffee

what’s a question do you constantly get asked?

"Are you twins?" when me and my brother are in the same room

if you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where?

I'd get a tattoo of my mothers name with cat ears and a tail as well as her birthday

google the top song from the year you were born

No One

Alicia Keys · 2007

rant about your favorite musician

Ok so they're called cosmo sheldrake and their music so weird but really cool and i like it so much its unreal because its super dooper catchy but its also really peaceful my favorite song is Pelicans We and The Moss

what’s your favorite teacher you’ve ever had?

Ms Mast from 3rd grade, she knew i was gay before I knew i was gay

describe your blog in 3-5 words

Sassy bitch rarely writes

what’s a conspiracy you believe in?

None

if you could see any concert tonight what would you choose?

Cavetowns next one

if you could break one of your bad habits which would you choose?

Over eating

can you dance? sing?

I can sing, cant dance tho, im willing to post a video of me singing if someone asked but no one does

what’s something you can’t stop buying?

Nothing, im poor.

crowds or small groups?

Small groups

how long before a trip do you pack?

Idk, a few days

what celebrity would you rate a PERFECT 10?

Tom holand, 10/10 man has a frog in his mouth

what quote or inspirational setting do you think is bs?

Think postive. I hate it when people fuckin say that bullshit.

if you had to dye your hair an unnatural color right now, what would you choose?

Shinso purple or todoroki white

you can change one thing about your life right now. what are you changing?

The universe i live in and the family

how old do you get mistaken for?

13-16

what do you think about a lot

My own death, ocs, fanfics, things i could of done better

do you like your hogwarts house or do you wish you were a different one?

Im cool with being a ravenclaw

what does home mean to you?

Its where you make it, sometimes its people and sometimes its just a town.

what do you think you’d be arrested for?

Vandalism or murder of pedos and nazis

have you ever been called down to the principals office?

Yeah, alot.

post a picture of the outfit you would choose if you could have any outfit you wanted

Soft irl but p sassy

Hair and all

describe your aesthetic

answer with one of your ‘school memes’ (inside jokes you have with your class/grade) with no explanation

Goddamn it mason stop eating the fucking spoons/what happened to your school assignment?

I ate it.

I-it was a 3 page homework assignment.. It was paper..

Yeah it didnt taste that good.

#answering the asks

3 notes · View notes

furgemancs · 5 years

Photo

OC ADOPTION!!!!!

Each of them are for 35USD. The lucky owner will get all the rights of the character, and the full reference without any watermark.

FIRST COME FIRST SERVE! Only accept payment via Paypal or Ko-Fi. Write me a message about the creature you’re interested in and we can discuss the details ^^ its possible to put a creature on hold for a short period.

So I have these unused ocs I dont want to discard, so instead I’d like to send them to new homes. Their price is a bit higher than regular adoptions, cause they are coming with more details and complex personality.

01; Kiritsune: SOLD by @pokemaniacgemini

A kirin/kitsune hybrid, silent spirit of the ancient forests. They are shapeshifters, even take the form of a human, however they can be distinguished by their fragrance. They mostly have the sweet scent of the specific tree thats common in their forest (like it can be pine, birsch, cherry blossom, etc) Not too talkative, but good listeners and their aura can be calming for others.

02; Calico: SOLD by @shinepaw101

Calico is a newly formed parasite who took the body of a paralized, depressed girl. She has no idea how to control the weird emotions, therefor sometimes her host take control and takes an attempt to kill themselves. Shes actually not a pirate, instead her host used to cosplay, and kept her old costumes, and Calico really ‘liked’ this one. She’s rather shy, and works hard to fit into the world, somehow....

03; D&D character

This is a female! ent paladin, who has no name yet. She’s rather strong both in close combat and in healing, but not the smartest tool in the shed. Outside combat she’s really meek, even let a friendly party member ride on her back. Besides her strength she’s really weak against fire and lightning magic/attack, even tries to stay away from camp fires. Sometimes small creatures hiding in her ‘hair’ and the few holes she has on the bark, but she doesnt mind it. She speaks the common language and ent.

#adoptables #parasite #hybrid #kirin #kitsune #fantasy #ent #d&d #paladin #pirate #skeleton

63 notes · View notes

thelifetimechannel · 6 years

Text

====>

#tlc upd8 #tlc a6a6a6 #end of update 144 #i see ur metal gear joke gill #sidenote: this time i did have the appropriate equius quirk #but it appears the computer just automatically converted the double dash into an n dash #oh well

7 notes · View notes

serenavonromvesen · 6 years

Text

Did your caption get deleted from my blog?

When I have a computer I will give this post it's own section on my tumblr.

I haven't been on tumblr for a year or two and when I came back on I have joined a different community and lost my old blog. This new community seems to have this extremely weird fixation with having the caption underneath a photo to remain through all reblogs. This was not a thing the last I was on tumblr.

I would like to state first and foremost that only two people have contacted me being upset about this. EACH of those two people made NO effort to ask the caption be returned, made NO effort to ask why, and made NO allowance for me to respond back before blocking me. THIS IS NO WAY TO GET WHAT YOU WANT!?

Not only did I learn this action from tumblr, but in my opinion, I hold legitimate reason for doing so. That of which I may explain later, if I decide these psychos deserve an explanation.

Seriously, what the actual fuck? Why the actual fuck is this a fucking issue? Like what? People have blacklists for this shit are you SERIOUS lmfao? Whaaaaat!? I honestly think its kind of funny but I'm also really fucking annoyed lmfao.

I didn't even know this was apparently wrong lmfao? Everyone wants to attack you rather than ask or explain lmfao. Psychopaths!

*I also believe in anarchy, so any form of trying to penalize me for this rather than just ASKING me to do what you needed is going to make me intentionally not do it that much more, so please keep in mind that its your own rudeness preventing things like this from being resolved. Ask nicely and I just may*

Moving forward, though. So there is this LOVELY thing on tumblr called a "source." The source option on a photo allows you to link your tumblr blog to the photo in a way where your URL becomes a clickable link underneath the photo, as well as the photo itself also becomes a clickable link back to your own tumblr. This feature was designed so that in the event a caption is removed, your credit of the photo will always remain. There is also a second option, more reliable, as a source can be changed. That would be to watermark your photo. Watermarking your photo means editing it so that the URL of your profile is listed on the photo itself, in the event that the photo is reposted, source is changed, etc. These two options alone should be enough in most cases to have your photo credited. That being said, this is still the internet, you post your personal photos you will always risk them being stolen, unfortunately.

Contrary to that, I DO understand that in some cases a photo may need multiple forms of credit, or a caption necessary to further explain a photo, etc etc. There are times where a caption may feel kind of necessary.

That being said, I DONT feel it necessary to leave captions such as "i love this wig," "got weed?," "Come smoke with me," "this is cute," etc. etc. etc. At no point is any of that necessary to credit your photo, in which case it isnt necessary for me to reblog that with it.

Which brings me back to, why the actual fuck is that so damn important to some people? Like man, talk about letting little things bother you.... I am beside myself that people get that worked up about it. Sorrynotsorry I didn't care what you personally thought of the damn picture? I do leave credit for photos necessary as well as couldn't give a shit less if someone deleted one of my captions. Lol. I don't even watermark my photos. I honestly don't care. Someone deleting the caption on my photo would be the most meaningless thing that could ever happen to me.

Another thing I am confused about: I have only ever experienced this in the tumblr-stoner community? The one fucking group of people thats supposed to be chill as fuck? Like what? Y'all angry as hell lol take a fuckin dab or meditate or something cuz y'all need to chill the fuck out. I'll tell ya the real-life-stoner community is a wholllllle lot more laid back than the tumblr-stoner community. I really dont get it. Yall just chill. Its not that big of a deal I swear.

Mind you, I am a professional photographer with almost a decade of experience. I DO understand crediting photos. Truly, in so many ways, I do. However, I don't get why its so important that everyone knows you thought that tree looks cool. Especially with how many other reblogs have the caption. And one not bothers the hell out of y'all? I literally have 40 followers and I've used this account for like two months lmfao relax. You arent missing anything. I get stoked when someone reblogs a post from me. Like me deleting it has no affect aint nobody even finna see it lmao. Because my ONLY assumption is that you are super desperate for followers and likes [popularity] so that you must be super extra sure that everyone knows you posted that photo? Literally my only guess. Why else could it bother someone SO much?

Okay I GUESS. so why do I delete captions? Literally because I run a themed quality blog and it deminishes the quality of your overall blog to have text posts. I really dont wanna give away everything I do to make my blog look pretty but that and strictly high resolution photos. Its like my two biggest things in running my blog. I cant even begin to say how much sometimes I REALLY wanted to reblog a photo and didnt because it just wasn't sharp enough. It is what it is for me. Sometimes I cant even do what Id like just to uphold it. If you find that untrue look at my blog. To the very beginning. No text posts anywhere (well, rarely), but every source remains. I have EVEN gone out of my way to find original posters when I see someone has stolen their photo, so I can reblog from the original post. I cant tell y'all how many blogs I follow that repost y'alls photos. And yet I get attacked for deleting "look how pretty the shatter is" when theres a blog who didnt just delete your caption, but took away your source AND put their own caption. Lol. To be honest its such olllllllddd news to delete text posts and its sad I even have to explain this to the new generation of babyboomers on tumblr.

Stop ruining tumblr and being hateful.

This whole website is supposed to be a loving home for the land of misfit toys. Not have blacklists where you spam people with hate and blocks over the most petty bullshit? Especially when you never asked to resolve the issue in the first place and only attacked the person. That makes YOU the asshole, not me.

ANYWAY, so how can we resolve this? Well, if you, for some reason, need a caption returned that you feel had credit to it, message me without blocking me immediately after, so I can know which photo. It literally would take me a few seconds to remove the old photo and reblog it again. All you had to do was ask!

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

I wish I liked the Fat Jews new book. It would make a far more interesting piece if he exceeded our expectations. No one I talked to expected it to be good. I bet he didnt even write it, said one friend. I bet he had his interns write it.

To contextualize this for people who arent on the Internet all the time, Josh The Fat Jew Ostrovsky became the center of controversy when he was accused of stealing memes and jokes from comedians this summer. Ostrovsky had been doing this for years, and amassed millions of Instagram followers with his admittedly excellent meme aggregating skills. But comedians took a stand when he signed with the talent agency CAA in August.

Upon reading Money Pizza Respect, there is no doubt in my mind that the unfortunately titled book is penned by the Fat Jew himself; I confidently assert that MoneyPizza Respect is singlehandedly the worst book I have ever read.

His actual sense of humorand Im talking about humor, not the memes he aggregatesis painfully abject. He relies on a Tucker Max-esque style of storytelling, glorifying cocaine and alcohol abuse and fucking his groupies, who all embody a different type of crazy girl stereotype.

In a chapter ironically titled The Eleven Commandments of Not Being the Worst Person Ever, he warns readers that if you aggressively and frequently talk about your sex life, people will think youre gay. When you tell me that you tackled a slam pig and stuffed her axe wound, he writes, I assume that your actual goal is having anal sex with men. Ostrovsky makes sure to note that the only exception to this rule is Dan Bilzerian, who has literally thrown a woman off his roof, breaking her foot, and been accused of kicking another woman in the face.

Money Pizza Respect is laced with homophobic comments. He writes a note to P. Diddy: Sorry for outing you as a homosexual. Im pretty sure you are, but Im sorry. Theres also a healthy dose of sexism, describing his female groupies as a bunch of fours and fives who have giant lady hands hate their dads. To complete the trifecta, he also manages to be transphobic, referring to transgender women as trannies in a chapter chronicling his brothers bachelor party. (When his brother and friends found out the strippers who were giving them lap dances were trans, they left the club immediately.)

Before I met Ostrovsky, I was confused about how he was so successful, especially after reading his book, where he brags about his selfish and generally gross behavior at every possible moment, proudly displays pictures of him wearing a thong made out of beef jerky, and writes things like, Cocaine is the greatest gift the world has ever seen.

When I sat down with him at a press junket, located at an arcade in Chinatown, I immediately understood why hes garnered so much success. He is unfortunately charming and is actually a naturally funny person. Hes like the cool, mean boy in 8th grade, the type who introduced pot to all your friends and made fun of girls for being ugly or not having boobs yet. The type who definitely bullied me, and yet I tirelessly tried to gain his affection.

During our interview, Ostrovsky remained on the defensive, masterful at answering my questions with non-answers. He is somebody who has never taken life seriously, which is perhaps not too difficult for a straight, white, affluent male. He is fundamentally interested in his conception of fun, and hopes youll join him for the ride. If not, fuck off.

Its not that I began to like Ostrovsky or his book any more after meeting him, but I went from hating him to feeling an iota of pity for him. His flamboyant and unapologetic immaturity, his bratty affect: This is what has brought him success, and what I imagine will be his inevitable downfall.

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

It was definitely a shitty situation. Im of the Internet, so its like a lot of people screaming about things. I respect trolling. I respect people screaming at one another, which is why the Internet is so fucking great. I definitely didnt take it personally. It was also something that needed to get talked about. People were not on the same page. Like a 38-year-old comedy writer and a 16-year-old Filipino millennial were not seeing the issue the same way.

I try to look at it like I was the face of the whole thing. I mean the Internet is a giant, lawless fuckin thing. Sometimes we need some rules But not too many. Because that would be weird. No parents. But you know, sometimes people get pissed. I obviously see it from the 16-year-old Filipino millennial side. I dont look for credit on my stuff and I dont ever watermark or anything like that, but I also get the other side too. Im old enough to understand both sides. I just want everyone to be happy so were fuckin partying.

Instagram for fucking photos of dogs playing volleyball in sunglasses and iguanas surfing. I just want to have everyone get heard, fix the problem, and then get back to surfing iguanas. It didnt rock me emotionally because I just saw it as something that needed to be discussed. It definitely got dangerous and exciting at some points. People just get so crazy, theres a portion of people who dont even know what theyre screaming about. I got chased by TMZ. Some guy followed me around a Duane Reade recording my phone call. That was tight.

You liked that?

I kinda felt like Leo , for like a second. It was also scary. No one wants that life. I was trying to look at it like this is a conversation that needed to be had. I didnt look at it as being shit on. The Internet is more important to me than my family or anything. I would love to be with the Internet, have sex with the Internet, I love the Internet. Now its a better place.

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Its a mixed bag. I refer to it as the best and worst thing ever. Part of the ethos of this book is that its a how-to guide in that its like I dont know what you should be doing but I know what you shouldnt be doing. Ive seen every horrible thing. I basically think you read this book and you dont do coke. Because youre like, its gonna make me unbearable. Like my breath is gonna smell like a diaper and get into a super intense conversation about stuff I dont even care about.

I think it depends on how old the reader is. For me, Ive done coke so I understood more where you were coming from in that it can be great and terrible at the same time. From a teenagers standpoint, it might just look really cool.

It depends. Im pretty explicit that its been responsible for the greatest things that ever happened, but also some of the most horrendous things, too. I think its more self-reflective than it is encouraging.

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

No, definitely not. First of all, any social justice person can come at me at any time. I literally have more transgender friends who will vouch for me than anyone. They self-identify as trannies. Ask a transgender who is not a nerd from the Internet how they identify, and I bet you will find hundreds who identify as trannies.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

Ive never read it, but I also think that in terms of this book, like Ive been living performance art long enough to write a book full of debaucherous stories, but I wanted to go with more pathos, truth. From what I understand from Tucker Maxs stuff, he doesnt really go into too much stuff like that. Not all the stories here are particularly turnt up, as far as Im concerned. There are some that are honest family stories, not every story is about partying.

But a lot of them are.

We can go through it When I was writing it, putting in some emotion and truth, and some real feeling on it, like talking about my mom having sex with Shel Silverstein and being a 9-year-old child actor diva. Shit like that, to me, that is not the same as walking around a bar with a breathalyzer . I dont not relate to it, but Ive never read any of his stuff.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

No. I dont go home at night and unscrew the hairection , sit down, and listen to This American Life and be like, Oh, what a hard day at work! Being the Fat Jew! No, its all one in the same. To me, that would be disingenuous. I was doing this stuff long before there was anywhere to share it, long before anyone knew about it. Ten years ago, people in New York would be like, Oh thats the Fat Jew, the guy who does crazy stuff. It wasnt something I created and cultivated in order to share on social media for the masses.

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I dont know. Thats a good question. Like I dont even know what that means but Im gonna do it. Its 2015. Anything is possible. The world is so ridiculous at this point. I might open a yoga ashram in Toronto. Who knows? Im one of the only people who doesnt consider anything on or off limits. I dont think that it can be defined. We have this human need to compartmentalize, to be like, What are you? But I dont know.

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Thats vague. But yeah. Im not not. But thats what Im saying. I like to keep people guessing, keep people off kilter. If people think Im a comedian, I will move in a totally different direction and start making cologne. I wanna make people go, What the fuck? Keeping people guessing, keeping genuine conversation going about me, whether its, I dont want to say the word negative, but whatever its gonna be, thats what I am. A conversation starter? I dont know.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

The end goal with the book is that I think I can get some turnt-up 18-year-old to read. Thats the challenge, like, can you get fuckin some kids to read and think its really fuckin chill? Is that doable? Ill literally do it just for that.

Were doing reading raves to promote the book. IRL is what the programs called. Its just like huge DJs and books. Like, can you make them read? I think its doable. I dont think publishing knows how to do it. I dont think parents know how to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

I love Shel Silverstein, and not only because my mom fucked him. Mostly, Im the type to read 100 listicles. Like, what kind of bagel is Rihanna? You know what I mean? One-hundred times Rihanna ate fruit. Im not reading enough books.

No ones reading enough books.

Maybe now? That would fucking weird. To get a fucking 17-year-old whos over it to sit down and read an entire book? I mean I put in some stuff to break up the chapters, like you can color in a picture of Tyrese. I mean, I dont want you to have to read too much.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

0 notes

adambstingus · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/165493432272

0 notes

allofbeercom · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

0 notes

jimdsmith34 · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-fat-jewas-money-pizza-respect-is.html

0 notes

viralhottopics · 7 years

Text

Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

From tights on the beach to head-to-toe taffeta, writers reveal the outfits they regret

Kenya Hunt My version of day-to-night dressing was a night-time look worn all day

Despite working at a fashion magazine, Ive made a few sartorial mistakes. I comfort myself with the sentiment of an Instagram edict I saw: If youve never looked a little dumb, youre not having fun.

Id count the moment I met my husband as an off day, so it pains me no end that the clothes I wore have become a part of our marital lore. In his mind, the outfit is key to a story that must be retold, again and again: She wore a shiny shirt, tight jeans, big, gold hoop earrings, tall boots and a giant white furry jacket. And I said, I need to know this woman.

This visual loudness the metallics, the big proportions, the shaggy texture was my everyday look back in my late 20s, when I was living and working in New York. I dressed this way to please no one other than myself. I relished being able finally to buy and wear the labels I read about in magazines, but could never find in my suburban childhood home in Virginia.

My version of day-to-night dressing was basically a night-time look worn all day ready for whatever fun might happen later. Id think nothing of a morning commute in glittery Miu Miu heels or a gold Chlo sequin skirt. (To be fair, it was the era of high heels, flashy coats and skirts that were either very big and long, or very short.) No matter what the prevailing trend, Ive always had a soft spot for the razzle. For further proof, see this old image of me in Milan, in bright colour and print, layered on top of more colour and print.

Now, my wardrobe stands on a foundation of grey, navy and black, mostly because it suits my lifestyle and the London weather. I limit the flamboyance to my accessories (a bright shoe, big earring, bold handbag) or show it through shape, such as an enormous puffer jacket. Its just that now I choose pragmatic black rather than hot pink.

Theres a real joy that comes with loud dressing, because it requires a certain kind of go-to-hell spirit. Ive come to indulge this in a more restrained way, but I dont regret the mistakes. If I did, Id have divorced my husband a long time ago, for telling that story so very, very often.

Kenya Hunt is fashion features director of Elle.

Ruth Lewy: To think that this was my coolest look

Ruth Lewy, aged 20, with Dizzee Rascal.

It was May 2006 and I was coming to the end of my first year of university. I had just received my first proper student journalism commission: an interview with Dizzee Rascal. I borrowed a Dictaphone and hastily scrawled down three pages of uninventive questions (What is the best thing youve ever got for free?).

Now the important bit: my look. I loved Dizzee; I knew his two albums back to front and had mastered all the words to Fix Up, Look Sharp. What was I going to wear?

To think, looking back, that this was my very best outfit. My coolest look. Not one floral print top but two, a T-shirt layered over a shirt. Not one necklace, but two. (Made with beads collected while InterRailing around Europe. I know.) My curly hair was slicked back with Brylcreem. Off I went, looking like Laura Ashleys long-lost daughter.

He was courteous, holding eye contact and answering all my inane questions with grace. (The best thing he ever got for free? A lifetimes supply of trainers.) I stood up and shook his hand, and he invited me to his afterparty. The next student journalist sat down and went straight in with a question about homophobic lyrics and issues of representation in pop music, and I thought, Ohhhh, thats what journalism is.

The evening took a strange turn. My friends and I crowded into a bar on the high street, where Dizzee had a roped-off section at the back. It didnt take him long to zone in on my gorgeous friend L, persuading her to leave with him. We were agog.

Twenty minutes later, she was back, laughing her head off at the way he had clumsily propositioned her. She chose us over him.

What do I see when I look at this picture? I feel embarrassed at my choices. But Im also glad I spent my 20s dressing like a weirdo: it demonstrates a self-confidence that I dont think I appreciated at the time. These days, you could still file most of my clothes under eclectic, but Im much more careful, uninventive even. Now I tend to wear only one necklace at a time.

My interview never appeared in the end; the other journalist broke the embargo (she went on to write for the Daily Mail: go figure). I was left with only this blurry picture, a reminder of my youthful enthusiasm for floral prints, and an uncanny impression of Dizzee Rascals best chat-up line.

Ruth Lewy is assistant editor of Guardian Weekend.

Nosheen Iqbal: Everyone else on the beach was 89% naked

Nosheen Iqbal in Tuscany, aged 21.

I was a skittish 21-year-old in the mid noughties and I had, against my will, ended up on a Tuscan beach. It was the height of summer, but I was wearing thick black tights, thicker black skirt, black scarf and witchy pumps . Everyone else was dressed in 89% naked and the entire beach was rammed. Id been sent on a work trip with four other journalists who were, as far as I was concerned, super-old (fortysomething) and, I hoped, probably willing to buy my stubborn refusal to strip as some cool youth thing. (They didnt.) I made an attempt to style it out by looking casually moody, staring out to sea behind sunglasses, pretending not to notice my shoes sinking in the sand, legs looking like inky black stumps.

Why dont you take off your tights?

No.

What about if

No.

A couple of key things: the seaside was not on my itinerary and I hadnt packed for it. I didnt (and dont) own swimwear or a bikini, and I didnt (and dont) know how to swim.

Being Muslim is barely an excuse to look as daft as I did; there are chic ways to be modest by the sea childhood memories of Karachis Clifton beach were proof, where lawn cotton tunic and trousers were everyones friend. But being Muslim, plus an average level of body dysmorphia, was my bikini body ready get-out card. I knew there had to be more comfortable ways to be in public than permanently sucking my stomach in wearing what is, essentially, waterproof underwear. But 100-denier hosiery was definitely not the answer.

The general advice to give a shy 21-year-old should always be, Its not as bad as you think, to allay their disproportionate embarrassment. Except, in this case, the cringe levels are fully warranted; I havent been to a hot, sunny beach since.

Nosheen Iqbal is a commissioning editor for G2.

Morwenna Ferrier: I cant remember why I decided to cut off my hair

Morwenna Ferrier in Aldeburgh in her early 20s.

Other outfits have been more challenging. The mother-of-pearl bustier I wore to my graduation, say. Or, recently, the T-shirt printed with Valerie Solanass Scum manifesto I wore to meet a friends baby. But the outfit I am wearing here, worn on a walk along Aldeburgh beach in Suffolk, is the one I most regret.

It started a few months earlier when, in my early 20s, I decided to cut off my hair. I cant remember why. I imagine I fancied a change and, in fairness, I liked it. But then, I looked like a boy in a dress. I reacted by phasing out dresses and instead wearing drainpipes, striped T-shirts and headscarves. None of this was good. In the photo, Im wearing tight cropped trousers under the dress.

I had spent my late teens in dresses, grungy or flowery, with self-cut hems. It was a more innocent time, when I didnt really care what I wore. But the haircut triggered an anxiety.

What is it I regret? Back then it was the haircut; now, its that I ever worried about looking like a boy. I clearly hadnt been paying attention in those Judith Butler seminars; maybe I was still too attached to the binary. As my hair grew out, I started to care for the first time about how I looked. At 24, late in life, I became self-conscious.

Morwenna Ferrier is the Guardians online fashion editor.

Pam Lucas: I looked like a turkey at Christmas

Pam Lucas at a family party, aged 39.

As a single parent in the 80s, I was dirt poor. I didnt have the opportunity to make fashion faux pas because I didnt have any money. We shopped in jumble sales, and we had fun.

My family was invited to a party to celebrate my aunt and uncles golden wedding anniversary. I didnt know them that well, but my mum wanted me to impress them by looking modern. In the 80s, that meant puffy sleeves and big shoulders. My mother came with me to buy the outfit from BHS , so I had to comply. I was 39 at the time.

It was a beautiful colour between purple and lilac but I didnt like the synthetic fabric. It was watermarked all over and had a flared, taffeta skirt and a little jacket with a peplum. I looked like a turkey at Christmas, but it was such a fab party, I soon forgot how uncomfortable I felt.

In a way the outfit is a testament to my relationship with my mother. I was a grownup, with a child of my own, but she was still trying to keep hold of the mum bit of herself.

Pam Lucas is a model and appears regularly in All Ages.

Tshepo Mokoena: I settled on a vague hippy child look

Tshepo Mokoena at 19.

It would be nice if we could start over. To spare me, and others my age, a fair bit of niggling shame, by wiping all early photos from our Facebook accounts. Anyone who set up a profile between 2004 and 2009 now lugs around the digital baggage of horrible pictures of misspent youth and terrible outfits.

Case in point: this delight of a photo. I was 19, killing time between the second and third years of uni in Brighton. In a few weeks, my housemate and I would set off on an impulsive charity volunteering trip to Kerala because and I still cringe wed watched Wes Andersons The Darjeeling Limited.

Until my early 20s, my aesthetic consisted of not knowing when to edit. At 18, I would layer at least three beaded necklaces, two chunky bracelets, about 17 bangles and seven rings, for no good reason.

I attended secondary school in Harare, Zimbabwe, largely insulated from fashion, more concerned with my whizzing hormones than the latest velour tracksuit. I settled on a vague hippy child look at 15 and filled my wardrobe with earthy prints, flared denim and jewellery picked up in local markets. By 19, I looked like a substitute art teacher.

If youre old enough to have only private, analogue photography from your youth, or young enough to have crafted a near-fictional version of yourself online, youre spared the permanent reminder of your mistakes: 1,287 grim images owned by Mark Zuckerberg. I implore other twentysomethings to join me in calling for a digital purge. Its time.

Tshepo Mokoena is the editor of Noisey.