Could it be? Yes it could!
Hi hey hello dear sugars.
I don’t know if you’re a fan of The Dark Tower series by Stephen King — I used to be a preposterous snob when I would see someone reading his books, and think to myself, why read this goddamn schlock when there is so much brilliant wordsmithing in the world! — but honestly? The series is amazing — it’s an intergalactic western and a wondrous feat of the imagination.
This is all to say that one of the main themes in these books is that, The World Has Moved On. It gives me goosebumps just to type it. It’s a concept that is both simple — time inexorably marches forward like a band of dogged soldiers — and also, incredibly cryptic. The world becomes anthropomorphized; the world has not been destroyed, but rather it’s done with you and has decided to pursue greener pastures perhaps.
When a world has moved on there are always remnants of what you once shared: postcards; billboards that you walked or drove beneath every single day; a neighbor’s lilting laughter; a stained bedsheet; a song, half static on the radio; phantom limbs that brush their fingertips against your cheek or tug you close as the sun rears a new dawn.
When the world moves on, you still stroll its streets and frequent its cafes and dial the same numbers…but there is a grey veil between you.
My world is moving on and I can’t quite keep up. Marriages and babies and moves and jobs and deaths and breakups and aging and how on earth do I account for all this change, all this life and all these lives? It feels a little like a downward escalator I am trying to sprint to the top of.
But. When the world moves on, it’s not all fragments and ruins and it’s not quite a clean slate either. It’s a liminal stage of possibility and in my more buoyant moods where I can feel my mind move through space untethered to fear, I know I am on the cusp of building a new world, and there is no reason to believe it won’t be even more spectacular than the one gently closing its doors.
What world are you currently occupying?
With love + rage,
Cofounder | Creative Director
CALLING ALL ARTISTS!
— JUST TWO DAYS LEFT! —
Submit a design for The Establishment’s
Official Love T-Shirt…
By Ingrid Freer
Every day I ask myself how this has gone so wrong. I’m still financially cautious. We didn’t upgrade our home. We didn’t travel much of anywhere. We still have the same hole in the kitchen floor. We still use the same aging jars as glasses. I have no drug habits.
I’ve had three drinks total over the past three or four months, on holidays. The answer to the problem of our poverty is a simple one, and common: domestic violence.
One can find more nuance to that answer by adding male entitlement, ego, and rage.
By TaLynn Kel
My racist mother-in-law is dying.
Well, we think she may be dying. She is in the hospital and they are trying to figure out what’s happening, but it’s been three days and we have no answers. My significant other (S.O.) drove down to be with his family. I chose not to go because I choose not to have a relationship with them, and it would be an additional expense during a time where we are barely keeping ourselves afloat financially. So, he went, and I stayed home.
He’s angry at me now.
I knew he would be. Here he is, in crisis about his mother, and I am choosing not to physically be there for him. I’m not working a 9–5 so I wouldn’t be missing work. I am available to go, but because I won’t stay in the home of people who are casually, unapologetically “racist-lite,” I’m not being supportive.
By Jade Sanchez-Ventura
Will some motherfucker please just say it?
Tell me to smile.
And oh, how magnificent I would have blazed. The bus would’ve stopped mid turn; women pushing strollers would’ve cheered; some man would’ve called me a crazy bitch and I would have laughed. Yes, I am. Today I sure am.
But the street left me in peace. And I remembered a woman I know, pregnant and past the assigned due date, anxious, not wanting to be induced. Since I couldn’t fight, I thought I’d try and be of use, and called her. Listened. Then, she went off to finish a painting, and I walked into my school to teach Horror Writing to teenagers.
What is the thing you fear? That one thing. Write it down on the page, your eyes only.
Now, come up with an image for that thing. Write it down.
Anyone want to share?
By The Bad Advisor
“At any moment your son could be asked to perform elaborate feats of trigonometry, but what are the chances he’s going to interact with another human on planet earth and need to draw on the values and lessons imparted to him by his family in order to decide how (or whether!) to proceed in any given social situation? Pretty low, probably!
As long as the otherwise brilliant man your son hangs out with on a regular basis has only whipped his dick out and masturbated in front of women who expressly did not consent to participation in such an act, as opposed to forcibly sexually assaulting them, you’re fine.”
By Kristen Pyszczyk
But the sexism that women experience on a daily basis is so widespread in scope, and so deeply ingrained in how we move through the world, that to acknowledge its existence would necessitate a major re-evaluation of our worldview.
It would mean seeing for the first time that we are second-class citizens, and that the messages we’ve received about the end of sexism have all been just another lie told to us by a society that wants to keep us in our place. It would also mean examining the ways that we are complacent in and actively participate in our own oppression.
In short, to acknowledge the continued existence of sexism would be traumatic, and most women have been through enough already.