childless milf

@claire-sinclair.bsky.social

277 Followers 233 Following

Former Starbucks union organizer and strike leader, current musician and actor, she/they Letterboxd: https://boxd.it/1elJ5

a drawing of a shrieking baseball
Reworked Calvin and Hobbes comic: First frame shows Calvin sitting on the floor by a record player. His dad approaches him, saying, "Playing a record? I'll show you something interesting." Second frame shows the dad crouching to point at the record while Calvin listens. The dad begins reciting a poem from the song Dead Flag Blues by Godspeed You! Black Emperor - "The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel, and the streets are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides." "Yeah," Calvin responds. The dad adds, "And a cold wind blows." Third frame shows the dad continuing, positioned in the foreground, partially obscuring some of his words. "The government is corrupt, and we're on so many drugs with the radio on and the curtains drawn. We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death. The sun has fallen down, and the billboards are all leering, and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles. It went like this... Buildings toppled in on themselves... Mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair. The skyline was beautiful on fire, all twisted metal stretching upward. Everything washed in a thin orange haze... I said, 'kiss me, you're beautiful. These are truly the last days." Final panel shows Calvin alone in bed, visibly distressed, surrounded by the oppressive dark. Above him are the final lines of the poem - "I open up my wallet and it's full of blood."
Screenshot of Marlon Brando as Don Corleone from The Godfather sitting in his office. Some jackass with a mustache is whispering in his ear. Low-effort meme-style text reads, "YOU COME TO ME ON THIS, THE DAY OF MY DAUGHTER'S VISIBILITY". I think Don Corleone would be fine with a trans kid as long as they were straight. I have no evidence for this claim. Just seems like a fun thing to think. He's a complicated guy!
Quote from the previously posted Boston.com article from September 21st, 2022, regarding the strike in question: "Employees at the 874 Commonwealth Ave. store - located near Boston University - have been on strike 24/7 since mid-July, making this the longest documented action against the global coffee chain."
Template meme: An outraged guy is pointing at a short woman with stylized anime eyes, saying, "if you read this, you are gay lmao" The short woman says "waow" and thinks "based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based cooper cooper based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based based
A collage of (mostly) marine life, with commentary based on whether or not they have dorsal fins. The image includes a mudskipper (I think): Sick!!! a bottlenose dolphin: Lisa Frank Baby!!! a cluster of barnacles: ??????? Who are these guys a manitee: Stupid, Ugly. No. a clownfish in a sea anemone: the clownfish is circled in green, the anemone is scribbled out in red. a king crab (I think): Not Today! an ocean sunfish: ok a sailfish: aWOOga!!! huminahuminahumina 😍 a Pacific sea nettle jellyfish: FUCK YOU!!!! a showy blue betta with long, flowy fins: 😏 a Caspian seal (I think): BAD a chart showing several different species of porpoise: those with prominent dorsal fins are circled in green, labeled "yes". Two without dorsal fins are crossed out in red. a blacktip reef shark (I think): 😳 a fucking ugly ass horse: not even close some kind of eel? I think? or a sea snake? idk, it doesn't have a dorsal fin: SHIT another mudskipper (I'm sure this time): 😲 an orca with a particularly long dorsal fin: tall guy over here! a hammerhead shark: That's What I'm Talking About! and a lamprey, which has two dorsal fins: this fucked up guy gets double presents
Old reaction image depicting a man pointing at a PC monitor from the 90's, saying, "This looks shopped. I can tell from some of the pixels and from seeing quite a few shops in my time."
A piece of paper depicting Woody, the lovable cowboy doll from Pixar's landmark debut feature "Toy Story", tipping his hat beside some text that reads, "I know you're going through a lot right now Just know You did this to yourself"
Two skeets back to back: the top, from More Perfect Union, reads, "BREAKING: The FCC approves $8 billion Paramount-Skydance merger. The following is the Evil Guy Wins Lottery skeet
A screenshot of my four most recently logged films on letterboxd, including a five-star rewatch of The People's Joker, A liked rewatch of Nathan For You: Finding, Frances A liked initial watch of Wild Things, and a four and a half star rewatch of Kneecap
The first half of a letter notifying the manager and regional manager of the 874 Commonwealth Ave Starbucks that the workers were going on strike. The text reads: "July 18, 2022 Dear Tomi Chorlian and Phil Mann, We are writing to inform you that, effective at 4:30am on July 18th, 2022, we, the partners of 874 Commonwealth Avenue, will be on strike, and will remain on strike until further notice. The rights to engage in concerted activity, including the right to strike, are protected under Federal Law by the National Labor Relations Act. Starbucks is prohibited from retaliating against or discriminating against any partner who participates in our strike. Immediately after our store voted to unionize, Ms. Chorlian was temporarily assigned to our store as a Store Manager. Since then, our partners have been subjected to not only a slew of unfair labor practices on the local and national level (including threats, overly restrictive policies, denials of benefits, changes in operations, and other alleged violations), but also a chaotic and hostile work environment. We are striking for the following reasons: 1. Ms. Chorlian has made illegal threats of discipline or termination of employees if we do not comply with a newly imposed availability policy in direct violation of Starbucks' obligation to first bargain in good faith. 2. Since her arrival, Ms. Chorlian has aggressively cut hours for long-time employees, dramatically understaffed shifts, while simultaneously hiring an influx of employees. Additionally, Ms. Chorlian has continually made unilateral changes to our schedule without any notice."
Meme of Robert De Niro and Joaquin Phoenix in Joker (2019). De Niro is looking at Phoenix, saying, "Let me get this straight - You think The People's Joker is a better exploration of queerness than Brokeback Mountain or Call Me By Your Name?" Phoenix sneers mischievously over his shoulder at De Niro, responding, "I do, and I'm tired of pretending it's not." Not mentioned in the image, but The People's Joker is a better Joker movie than Joker (2019).
A screenshot of my four most recently logged movies on letterboxd, including a four and a half star rewatch of Wet Hot American Summer (2001), a four star watch of Bring Her Back (2025), a four star rewatch of Pieces (1982), and a five star rewatch of End of Evangelion (1997).
Letterboxd list of ten horror movies to get to know me, including Inland Empire (2006), Videodrome (1983), Alien (1979), From Beyond (1986), Evil Dead 2 (1987), Hellraiser II: Hellbound (1988), Stage Fright a.k.a. Aquarius (1987), Hausu (1977), It Follows (2014), and Sleepaway Camp (1983) These aren't all necessarily my favorites, but they all have a specific vibe I like. Except Inland Empire, Alien, and Videodrome. Those are my favorites. And Evil Dead 2. And Hausu. I guess some of these are my favorites.
A frame taken from the film Naked Lunch (1992, directed by David Cronenberg). A creature that looks to be a cross between a typewriter and a beetle sits on a desk before a man with his back turned to the camera.
You part wet lips over my ear and swallow my whole name like fresh cherry popped from the stem between your teeth in knots and I forget how much I hate to hear people chew
I am drawn with quivering hands missing detail in blind spots a cluster of segments to figure where about I fall on paper not made to last a gesture at a place containing the unrenderable In my purest expression I am unfinished without an end not enough for now
I found my self in side women Loving them too wrong Making my self sick Taking care with blood letting leeches suck the imbalance d humour left full of holes bile and no better off In my self obsession I miss ed the trail of dead bodies I had amassed dis member re ing as I went through collecting body parts I didn't realize I would need to make a new self I mourn what who I can't make right by history an epitaph to a cruelty still scratching at the splintered lid of its coffin until its nails blood less and bile black reach the loose dirt I replace every morning and the corpses I have butchered lie in shallow graves unmarked
Queen-Sized Casket It kills me to watch you decaying alone It would kill you to do it at all whether I'm there or not What must be done must be done in private so it doesn't get ahead of itself It will come for me on its own and you won't be there to watch me even
Lapsed Suicide Pact You can taste the stale cyanide leaking from my false tooth that I don't want anymore Your tongue digs at it like you're trying to save me I can feel the gap where your tooth was I don't want to swallow until I need to but you are forcing my throat
What a Horrible Night it used to be that you wrote in open secrets and I could see how you spelled out your curses where my name present cropped to sigils wasn't enough to anagram all your anguish but you don't keep that record anymore and when curses creep in to decrypt, they are spoken I don't know how to spell them but they sound more like me and less like you than they used to
Stall Out Keep it to yourself There's still so much to work on When you die they'll all see how perfect it is Keep it to yourself There's so much that could go wrong When you die they'll pile on the credit you live for Too much to do Too much to get to it all Might as well not try So no one can say they could've done better Keep it to yourself There's too much out there now When you die all your work might come back into style Keep it to yourself There's too much to excuse you When you die all your work will be ghosts without haunts Keep it to yourself Your life's a dirty secret That you're dying to tell Too much to do Too much to get to it all Might as well not try So no one can say they could've done better
The mind shuts down and the world moves beyond it in choppy stuttering People move too quickly here to there and say too much without lips to read All you smell is warnings and all you taste is what you smell and all you feel is harsh and inescapable Discreet signals blend in a roar of looping feedback Everything you need to know all at once and impossible to parse You can't catch everything only catch up and hope nothing important slipped between frames When they ask if you caught all that you nod because they won't take you a long otherwise
Tied to The Feeding Post The beast feeds like it can't stop even as its claws cut its mouth in greedy haste but it can And its mouth bleeds from raw wounds it can't allow to heal Its teeth wear and decay beneath the endless onslaught of more We are only allowed to hope it chokes itself still before it reaches us
It's quicker to rip seams than to make them Fabric stays folded creased in its habits Shoulders bunch together refuse to smooth and spread And the neck rounds too far forward I walk half-strung My eyes the buttons with which I fix myself to the world still hang loose towards the ground before me but I pull at rebel threads to keep some kind of shape while I slowly sew
Tongue-Eating Louse your voice chitters and clacks more than it used to and I hear it less than I used to the tone comes through before the words in our every correspondence little scrapes that shape letters just so sharper though without points and your mouth is full of something you don't chew legs slip out from between your teeth in brittle segments and you take care not to crush them even as I see you gag and you gag and choke less than you used to I am afraid I will still try to remove it before they bury you and of what I will find it was hiding
The Vindicated Individualist I drive the car I built through the city I established to the office I maintain Walk past the receptionists, security, custodians all of whom look like Me, I assume (I don't need to look at faces) I sit down at the desk I made from wood I grew I harvested I shaped and finished before the typewriter I invented, made of metal I found, mined, forged Load the paper I manufactured and check the ink ribbon (My own design, of course) and begin another masterpiece in a language I invented from whole cloth (a phrase I came up with) Each letter I conceived to express a sound I need to make to communicate My genius, to better the World
Mario Bava Peel the dead skin off my sore hand Blue green neon runs through wet fingers There is no rain only puddles and rivulets and my jacket soaked A cloud stirs at my feet Refit my slick leather and begin my rain dance once again
Historic Companionship I pull at leather taut against his skin, I feel his arm as it reaches for a spear to pierce the heart of someone else My poet singer story maker and tale-teller bad cook early riser joker and lover is his people's commander bloodletter war machine I lift his tender shield and pause It sits on my arm weightless as if made for his protection and it aches to let him take it, the most important part of me he carries into battle There is no honor worth our love, No cause greater than another night beside him safe
Double Agent When he falls "charm"-drunk he begins to talk about nails losing wars and what terror is wreaked for what's wrongly wrought in glissando runs of perfectly logical excuses and I say, "but your war is against the judge or the cops or the sentence or the booze" and he says, "Right now, it's against you"
Would that I could whisper with your voice in tone that lays unbothered precious words a reassurance of my place in you to ease my unassimilated heart but such a tone to cowering heart may be a lie as any word that lays misplaced and tremble as it does in fear of truth as in the truth of why its wont to cower
The Funeral of Shelley I don't talk about the pain in my shoulder My frail artist arms aren't built like my heart They weren't made to carry such dead weight but my heart couldn't beat you to the pyre so I pulled you over my shoulder Marched you through the unseasonable wet chill that gathered on my face to lie for my quiet tears and the shudder of my breath excused itself on the struggle of your frame I don't talk about the pain in my shoulder but it gnaws at me while I watch you burn warm against my cheek as if to give me something else to cry about
Vexed to Normal (sorry Yeats) No Second Coming at hand The falcon chose not to land having seen the center's been depleted The blood-dimmed tide has risen far beyond the limit of whatever's left here to receive it Lead-cast calf in gold leaf thinks itself the rough beast twisting gyre wider than it reaches Slouches, Bethlehem-bound prideful, tipping, unsound Epochryphal history repeated Capital's Spiritus Mundi: A shape with man's head and body starves while feasting, begs to be unseated Age beholds no man Stony face in sand The entropy of anarchy will even.
Ugly is the salt that bitters in excess That stings the eye to and water That preserves against the wear of time That sits poisonous in the Earth and makes her gifts worth tasting Ugly is the salt against which we define the bland and the rich That brings to life the lifeless, o, what excesses this world brings
epistemological existential crisis All I know is exceptions of exceptions defined by expectations of exemptions down to fractal qualifiers until I don't know anything and I have to start over at the beginning Reset to assumptions and get things wrong until the cracks in absolutes show themselves again too late
unspread or clipped Throw myself from the branch like one of its leaves turned frail and saffron by autumn's force but I am no dead leftover at storm winds' mercy Birds fly, When they leap from their perches, are drawn into a loving open sky, strung up in the firmament by its very will Such is the fate of birds to take the skies and to be taken by them Nature has given the air a need for our flutter and soar I feel the wind wrongways against feathers meant to lift me home "Nature has failed me," I think before striking the ground, wings pinned to my sides
I wasn't there when you were pulled from the gutter starving and worm-ridden and desperate like I've never seen you but I've heard you tell the story in the margins of your midnight cries, awake alone in our crowded house, or under rolling breath as you turn your back to me because you know you can, or in the tremble of your question of where I've been while I was out, How good it is to come home to you When you demand the needs you spent so long without, how can I bear to call you rude? Pull my hand to you when you need it and I will give it to you bleeding or not
The surest way to live is to make the world of real people feel livable Spend your time as a lamp to help them see, a chair to let them rest, a pillow to be screamed into, a curtain to hide something from them Your job is not to know your purpose but to wait for it to reveal itself in the face of a stranger's need Do your time so that you may explore the world as a real person for a few hours each day and please be careful with the furniture
driven, underground They demand glass skin to watch our bones bleach as we use them beneath burnt ozone gaze In the shadeless desert they have made of our lives we dig holes to find some damp something they haven't yet reached Cover ourselves in dirt Mask out clear and fragile frames in filth to reclaim some privacy to our insides From these holes we dig tunnels to find each other in the safety of the dark And when we do, brush the dirt from our glass to expose our bones because we want to down here
Helpless, I think I am looking at myself not in reflections but in warm flesh and cold shadow and I don't recognize her My lips on her say things I wouldn't My hands grasp at desires I don't have A knife turns wrongside out in my fingers towards you against you and I watch her pull you into my arms knife out, in Your blood fills your mouth My lips grin on hers You struggle to call out to me but that's not my name I think
Dab fresh moss behind my ears to give your tired face a place to rest and wet my wrists on rainwater wrung from winter's grey I hide myself beneath the breath of the annual second coming so that you may hold change to wherever aches for it Winter ages away, a corpse beneath new humid sun, and with it go stale ends to make airy room Draw deep from the clearing space I blend my scent into so that you may smell spring on me when it's gone
Lazy meme of Marlon Brando in The Godfather captioned with the oft-misquoted phrase, "You come to me in this, the day of my daughter's visibility"
The Joker from Joker Twenty Nineteen saying his iconic line, "and I'm tired of pretending it's not."
Album cover for Fallen by Evanescence but Amy Lee's face has been replaced by an emoji with a fisheye filter
Freedom of Speech, by Norman Rockwell
Screenshot from the pilot of Twin Peaks. Special Agent Dale Cooper speaks into a tape recorder as he drives through a rural area, "Diane, 11:30 a.m., February 24th. Entering the town of Twin Peaks."
The back of a green jacket adorned with various patches: at the center of the shoulders, a white outline of a flower on a black square, the logo of the band La Dispute; on the left arm, a green circle around the logo for the band Larry and His Flask; on the left arm, a circle depicting a surreal forest scene from Twin Peaks, and below that, a black dog's head on a diamond, labeled Diamond Dogs; in the center of the back, a skeletal corpse wearing a crown clutches a sword.
Promotional image for the movie Boss Baby hastily edited to have long red hair like Dave Mustaine from the thrash metal band Megadeth. The title and tagline of the movie are replaced with the title of a Megadeth album, "Peace Sells... But Who's Buying?" Boss Baby Dave Mustaine holds a cookie and has a smug fucking look on his shitty little face. He looks like an asshole.
A river labeled "What I want to say" is restrained by a dam labeled "Bluesky TOS", preventing a devastating flood in a town labeled "Them" (here representing the fascists responsible for the heinous cruelty discussed in the previous post).
Post from a Facebook page called Fruit of the Womb Pregnan featuring an AI generated image of two babies wearing wrestling championship belts with a caption saying, "Your twins that are coming will defeat miscarriage".
tennis ball that is screaming with excitement
Letterboxd screenshot showing my first and last films of 2024, Poor Things and It's a Wonderful Life
Norman Rockwell's painting "Freedom of Speech", depicting a brave citizen standing up to declare "Joker 2 was not that bad."
Sexy idiot looking so fucking pretty