HEAVY IS THE STONE.

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
r0semultiverse
tikkunolamorgtfo

I don’t think a lot of people understand that no matter how progressive or well-read you are, there are always going to be moments in your life where somebody pushes back against something that’s so culturally ingrained you never even considered it before. And you’ll say “Huh, it never occurred to me to challenge this but you’re right,” and that doesn’t mean you were “morally toxic” before, it means you’re a non-omniscient human capable of growth.

Also, some preferred terms for things will change and evolve, and terms we prefer now might eventually be considered gauche or even offensive, and that doesn’t mean you were a bigot at the time for using them. It means we evolved as a society and chose new terminology to reflect that change.

Nobody is a fully formed realisation of progressivism that can predict all shifts and modes of thought. The world will always change, and hopefully you will, too

soft-october-night
oldmanatom: “aconissa: ““Poet James Schuyler to painter John Button (Spring 1956) ” ” [ID: transcript of a letter from poet James Schuyler to painter John Button, written in the spring of 1956: Dear John, I don’t know why I have to tell you this...
aconissa

Poet James Schuyler to painter John Button (Spring 1956) 

oldmanatom

[ID: transcript of a letter from poet James Schuyler to painter John Button, written in the spring of 1956:

Dear John,

I don’t know why I have to tell you this today (but I do) — perhaps it’s because when I look out into the fog all I can see is the hairs of your adorable chest. I’m terribly in love with you, and have been for such a long time, ever since the first time Frank took me to your apartment. I looked around at your beautiful paintings and suddenly everything I’d ever felt about you turned into a diamond or a rose or something — anyway I went striding up and down while Frank played Poulenc and felt exactly like the Ugly Duckling the day he found he was a swan.

Then you came home and I didn’t think I could ever look at you or to you again, all I could do was giggle and snort and twitch. But I’ve looked at you a lot since then, and there isn’t anybody else in the world I want to look at; or want, for that matter.

It seems to me that I’ve been so GOOD that I couldn’t hate myself more. I don’t see why I couldn’t have been born a robber baron type instead of a fool.

Now I’m going down and set 57th Street on fire to keep you warm.

This is all nonsense. I love being in love with you, it makes even unhappiness seem no bigger than a pin, even at the times when I wish so violently that I could give my heart to science and be rid of it.

With all my love,
Jimmy

/ID]