Mags Display Name

@mags.colvett.online

11382 Followers 1879 Following

Appalachian in Queens • Writer, editor, union member • My cathedral is built for a god to see so even secret places have ornament • They

Screenshot of recent retweets of this posts includes WCW Worldwide Fansite @wcwworldwide.com
UnHerd How pasta made me a Terf After my friend was attacked, I can no longer keep silent [photo of J.K. Rowling] Giles Fraser JUN 9 2022 - 12: 03AM 4 MINS The other week, my wife kicked me out of the house. She wanted to chat with her Mum for the evening. So rather than get under her feet, I went to a do organised by the Israeli Embassy and then decided to take myself out to dinner with a book.
Screenshot of instagram post from veggietalesofficial: a penguin in a spacesuit dances on a cheerfully patterned blue background. Text: Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 2 Corinthians 4:16
and—look—he didn't know the wish was going to work. But he's missing the point when he tells lan to word his own wish carefully. He wasn't misunderstood. The One Wish Willow saw him more clearly than he wanted to look at what he himself was asking for, which is how Nikki gets puppeted into acting out exactly the kind of love Bear has to offer, carried to its natural conclusions: if you can't take the person you idealize telling you plainly "hey, please don't talk to me like that, I don't like it," then what you wished for is a love where someone's stuck fearfully rehearsing "hey, please don't cook the cat? I don't like it when you cook the cat" in the car because they know the other can't take that kind of feedback. If you're not up for a real enough conversation to risk disturbing your fantasy of them, then what you wished for is a love where wanting to know what's really up with you as people gets you scolded for ruining a nice date, a nice relationship. You don't have to think of yourself as controlling, a controller, an abuser. You just have to be unhappy when pushed back on, unwilling to relax your grip on the story you're telling yourselt about this relationship and this person you crushed on for so long—nothing more controllable than a crush you don't act on! nothing more controlled than an imaginary relationship with someone who's not really with you in the room!—as prized pieces in the story of you.
reclining drawing above, held up beside the frame of the movie it’s referencing
Sketchbook page: in blue colored pencil, Ben Whishaw as Peter Hujar reclines on his side on a couch, resting his head on one hand. His torso and hips twist along the length of the couch
Three packs of Pilot-brand pens side by side in a store display: a pink set labeled “The colors of optimism,” a purple set labeled “The colors of creativity,” and a blue set labeled “The colors of productivity”
Waste bin on sidewalk labeled “Baroness Trash”
An 8x10ish vintage black-and-white photo print, slightly yellowed, of actress Lillian Roth looking directly to camera with glittering tears from both eyes, chin resting gently on hand. Her lips are sharply lined and she smiles a little in a wry way, accentuated by her knowing (also sharply lined) eyebrows. Her dark, wet eyes and waved hair contrast with softly glowing skin
Page from picture book: text “or as clever as a chimp. It’s still a mammal.” under photo of chimp reclining on grass with one leg folded over the other and their arms crossed lightly, leaning up slightly with a reserved, appraising look just verging on a sneer. They have the bearing of a diva lounging poolside and being shown something that barely merits their interest but they’re humoring you for the moment
Edit of Perry Bible Fellowship “Skub” comic Panel 1: two people in shirts reading “pintle” and “gudgeon” meet confrontationally Panel 2: “pintle” punches “gudgeon” Panel 3: They start to fight as bystanders pull them apart Panel 4: parts of a hinge labeled “pintle” and “gudgeon”
Lone, slightly aged peach sitting on otherwise bare refrigerator shelf with note propped beside it reading: “Since you stole the 1st peach, might as well steal 2nd one. Enjoy :)”
raffi_music: tomorrow can be better. including crying tears that were suppressed. good tears.
Threads post from raffi_music: stay creative. after Baby Beluga, I didn't worry about how can I top that.. just kept growing as a person and musically. 14 years later, Bananaphone!
rain-drenched Mags on a city street in front of a store called WATERWORKS
Screenshot of ThriftBooks: Julie Ducourneau’s Raw listed as the French version of Eddie Murphy’s Raw
From a camera at floor level, Mags’ furry legs in red velour shorts and light brown leather western boots with leather tassel details
Before the late 19th century, in most cases, retail goods did not have a fixed price, and each customer would be expected to haggle with the store clerk [citation needed]. The Quakers, who found it immoral for different customers to pay different prices (now known as price discrimination) were an exception. The Pennsylvania Quakers'' "honest price" was institutionalized in 1874 by John Wanamaker, when he opened his eponymous department store in Philadelphia. A renowned innovator of the highest integrity, Wanamaker was the first retailer to offer money-back guarantees. He also invented the price tag: "A devout Christian, he believed that if everyone was equal before God, then everyone should be equal before price." Before Wanamaker's, every purchase was open to a haggle." Macy's in New York (Rowland Hussey Macy was a Quaker) also began affixing physical tags to items in the 1870s, eliminating haggling. This allowed shorter training time for new clerks (who would no longer need to know the art of haggling nor the range of accepted prices for every item) and allowed clerks to serve more customers. (2]
storefront Beef Up Noodle
kids’ science book with cover image of panda: It Could Still Be A Mammal
Colored pencil drawing of a figure in shorts, a t-shirt, and dark sunglasses slumped back groggily against a tree in a grassy place. Three red cups surround them on the ground as a fourth hovers nearby with tiny wings
Gillette CEO author photo from “Fuck Everything, We're Doing Five Blades” editorial
TV shows closeup of hand writing “Learn the AKAI!!” on a legal pad (fictionalized Christine Chubbock probably means a tape machine at the 1970s newsroom and not the modern-day MIDI controller I’ve been learning)
Angela Wong Carbone as bright-eyed intern Gwyn making a puzzled/thinking face, sketched in pink colored pencil
Colored pencil sketches of Rebecca Hall’s character Margaret in Resurrection (2022): two heads, one tilted back and gasping, one startled and looking slightly to the side with lips parted
Home TV shows shots of Albany buildings set to suspenseful strings
Delicately, Slow, the World Comes Back by Carl Phillips So what if usefulness, thin as figment, but sturdier, sturdy enough, seems the one gift I’ve been able to give, that I didn’t take back. The bamboo does its folding and unfolding thing anyway, under the wind, across, over it. Hard to say how the parts that hurt in life, most of them, ever come to pass. The wild dog in my head that I keep for company, that I’d been told could not be tamed, which is why I wanted him, I think, or I think so now, becomes daily more tractable: I raise my hand; he fairly falls beneath it. Half of me says I’m the wrong answer, while the other says no, maybe just more difficult, the harder one to choose. The dog looks up at me, then quickly away. Pretty soon, I’ll have broken him. Little prize; bit of trophy. —And what will usefulness be then?
RFK Jr. on Whether More Women Will Accuse Him of Sexual Assault: ‘We’ll See’
Wildlife by Ellen Bass The woman who was saving iguanas opened the cage of the newest arrival and asked if I wanted to hold him. She showed me how to slip my forearm under his scaly belly and bring him to my chest, not unlike soothing a colicky baby, though the iguana showed no distress and breathed evenly against my body, not cold, not warm, as if he didn't mind being suspended in a strangers arms, as if nothing could surprise him in the tumble of the world hed been swept up into. The iguana was strapped into a thin black harness that made him look like a leatherman from the Castro, an old queer with spiked hair and his wrinkled dewlap. Id had a bad day, well really a bad year, and the one before that wasn't good either. My child wasn't talking to me and I'd stopped talking to everyone else. The iguana was still as a monk in prayer, all that moved were his ruched eyelids which opened and closed over his orange eyes. His chest filled and emptied with the dry hot air we shared. I thought to myself, even this is something.
Liberty Ghazal A tall Frenchwoman with a strong Greek look: Emma Lazarus called her Mother of Exiles. Two faces on a rescinded green card, the bearer's and hers: a mother in exile. Through a handheld camera, the guards hide their faces, the prisoners don't—the law's motherless exiles. Some lay their babies on water, some hike through the desert, some dig them from rubble, the mothers of exiles. A nation is an anthem for those it loves and a bayonet-point to the rest: borders are mothers of exile. Lazarus took an Italian form, I took an Arabic: tunings for love songs turned mothers for exiles. I don't give you permission to open my door. I don't consent to a search. You won't seize the mother of exiles.
*** The possibilities that exist between two people, or among a group of people, are a kind of alchemy. They are the most interesting thing in life. The liar is someone who keeps losing sight of these possibilities. When relationships are determined by manipulation, by the need for control, they may possess a dreary, bickering kind of drama, but they cease to be interesting. They are repetitious; the shock of human possibilities has ceased to reverberate through them. When someone tells me a piece of truth which has been withheld from me, and which I needed in order to see my life more clearly, it may bring acute pain, but it can also flood me with a cold, sea-sharp wash of relief. Often such truths come by accident, or from strangers. It isn't that to have an honourable relationship with you, I have to understand everything, or tell you everything at once, or that i can know, beforehand, everything I need to tell you. It means that most of the time I am eager, longing for the possibility of telling you. That these possibilities may seem frightening, but not destructive, to me. That I feel strong enough to hear your tentative and groping words. That we both know we are trying, all the time, to extend the possibilities of truth between us. The possibility of life between us.
Mags, a white nonbinary thirtysomething, in a black muscle tee, green shorts, an off-white bandana, a blue micro bolo necklace, and their usual blue-rimmed glasses, posing with their arms flush to their slightly tilted body
People also ask What is the smartest flower?
Mags, a white nonbinary thirtysomething, back- and side-lit by a bright window with their hands in their hair and a large brass statement necklace of several hollow brass hearts arranged in a kind of cascading chandelier shape across their chest. The light catches their head and pit hair ever just so
Black-and-white film photo booth photo of Mags with long hair, glasses, mouth slightly parted to show teeth, lightly disheveled throughout and framed by a big black coat
(alt text truncated; complete text at link) There's a one-liner review on here that's like "why is it always 'I love you' and not 'if I'm going to be chased and tormented for the rest of my life by a demon entity that resembles the person I desire most, I want that thing to look just like you,'" and like, lol, but also: I think that's a pretty profound moment! These boys are faced with a choice between venturing a genuine connection that presents real risks—not just emotional vulnerability, not just fears or anxieties that wouldn't really be so bad if you'd just get over yourself, but terror and hurt that can be destabilizing, and cause real pain to the both of you to stand in together—and the slow death of either total isolation or entombing yourself and others in relationships that aren't genuine, and aren't living. It's not even just the parents and preachers telling them that they have some kind of duty of honor to go with the slow death. Fellow deliverance healing survivor Jessica, grieving and guilt-ridden, essentially screams at them what she's been screaming at herself since Marnie died: you’re just making it stronger, you'll only make it worse, you have to stay away. You have to pick the genuine thing. You have to, even though that might not mean total liberation from your demons. (Or even, let's be real, your failings; Naim shouldn't have ratted on Ryan and Hunter, and the scale of the consequences for that were tragic and unfair to completely pin on a child who did something childish, but he hasn't always been a hero here and he has to live with that.) God, that last shot of Naim seeing the monster out the window as he’s escaping with Ryan—the monster present even as the loving person is, too—and slowly, deliberately looking to the real Ryan, and pulling closer to him. Keep a place for me, even when I seem far away. Keep a place for me, even when I sometimes don’t know how to be sure it’s really you […]
Partially worn or removed sticker reads, depending on your interpretation, “employees must / hands / the toilet / food / they are soiled” or possibly “and / toilet / food / are soiled” if only completely unobstructed letters are included
It's also a setting where—contrasting again with Catholics and some mainline churches, where rank-and-file participation in church life has more to do with practice (works and liturgy) than sort of a cult of professing what your personal relationship with Jesus means to you, which is really an evangelical thing—there's a lot of emphasis on fervent, chosen belief, and making a big deal out of what it means to dedicate yourself to it. That's definitely at play in this movie; Naim's mom carries some of it, but it's underlined in that moment at the beginning with the new baby in the congregation who's expected to make free choices that bring her exactly back here, exactly where she's taught to be, which (you see!) is not an oppressive expectation because if she's raised right it'll be just what she wants, too. It's a kind of thinking that slides seamlessly into the this is for your own good, and someday, you'll appreciate that flavor of abusive logic, and when Naim confronts his mother about the damage she's helped do, she acknowledges to him that she knows it hurts them, and that that was the point. It’s what she believed needed doing. They haven't exorcised a demon to clear the way for correct behavior; they've implanted one to terrorize you into correct thoughts, and therefore (of course!) safety on earth, and salvation thereafter.
Venmo app has update with notes: In an app of great prowess, they say, Features danced in a grand display. Bugs, once fierce, now subdued, Tapping joyfully ensued, As users hailed the tixes that day.
maintenance spray paint on subway platform reads 6’8” TRANS
Split-frame photo of John Early in character as Maddie Ralph lit angelically
screen. I don't know. Honestly, I have two other Maddie movie ideas. I mean, my dream is that she's kind of this YA character, and there's three perfect little movies with perfect little packaging. I think of her as almost like a kind of Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables. BAXTER: Like a blank slate. EARLY: Yeah. She's like America's sweetheart, so I think she really does lend herself to other adventures.
Interior of Oculus (weird space mall in lower Manhattan where “Planet of the Bass” was filmed) with large pride progress flags hanging at either end of main hall
As the Teller passed each banner a voice sounded from a speaker set on the ground beneath it. Explaining the Pictures, the voices told how Poughkeepsie's original inhabitants - twelve foot giants whose skin changed colour according to the season - had carved the city out of huge cedar trees uprooted in a storm from Mexico and dropped beside the Hudson River. The city prospered until a thirty year drought, during which the people shrank to two foot seven, and the river cried every night in maudlin memory of its former might. One morning all the inhabitants went out to perform a rain enactment in the high school football stadium. With little confidence the townspeople chanted along the yard lines and sprinkled blood on the goalposts. At the same time Poughkeepsie's wonderful cedars, fed up with constant thirst, all marched to the Traprock Quarry and Blasting Corporation on the edge of town and jumped into a gravelly pit. In this moment of despair, with the people's homes destroyed and their ears battered by the river's incessant self-pity, a multi-tiered uFo landed in the field of dandelions that would one day become Dutchess County Airport. The space beings, whom the banners depicted as shining foetuses with overlong fingers and toes, not only showed the people how to make rain seeds out of common flowers, but also demonstrated how to build modern houses, and even how to set up a government, complete with
i. I'm going out tonight a cat or coyote stalking the edge of a meadow I'm slipping the light and the cameras I'm lighter the least and last inhabitant to be surveilled I'll wear wide eyes and ears a nose savant to the lively dark where people and animals blur becoming shifting leaves There's a bench I know in the Ramble a plaque for where two lovers met and their happy decades after there's a namelessness where others met and parted skin in the dark may no cop's flashlight ever touch For years I lived in the city the way a crow does on little money wandering namelessly taking home things I found on the ground Harbor and highway
IFC Center theater with lights up before screening of Maddie’s Secret
Oblina from Aaahh!! Real Monsters, a cartoon monster with a long skinny body, eyes on stalks with long eyelashes, and oversized red mouth
Poster in window of beautician has closeup rectangular illustrations of a single eye with eyebrow, pink lips, an eye with prominent lashes in a vertical column where the skin tone behind them kind of blurs together and looks like a cylindrical monster with a mouth between two eyes on its top and bottom
Partial screenshot of ad features woman in athletic top and text “Ditch your N*ke sports bra”
Partial screenshot of Instagram post from verified usinterior account shows gloved hand holding a bat covered in yellow pollen with caption “Wastin’ away again in Pollinatorville…” and song attached to post “Margaritaville” by Jimmy Buffet
White canvas high-top Chuck Taylors with orchids painted on them in fluorescent colors (bright green leaves and stems, turquoise petals with bright orange accents)
Lady Miss Kier of Deee-Lite resplendent in a floral dress in a grove of blossoming cherries
“Chobani Cafe” storefront
I think it's easy, sometimes, if you grew up secular or with a pretty chill and accepting God, to see repressive religious communities—in fiction or otherwise—as kind of gothically other, and miss that the type of abuse they trade on is present in most of our lives to some degree, whether you've contended with it yourself or watched someone you love shadowbox demons you couldn't quite see but couldn't deny were there. Powerful people in powerful systems know better than you what your life and body are for, and what kinds of fear and danger are worth undergoing to secure what kinds of safety and fulfillment. Who gets entirely free from what that does to your trust in your own judgment, let alone in other people? Which is prelude to saying: even though the trailers had me thinking this movie wouldn't have much new to say to me, something told me I needed to see it anyway, and of course I was devastated by it. It's set in a certain kind of evangelical charismatic world, but its central conceit seems to me to be so much more about—and to enfold so many complex, subtle aspects of—the ways the people who've been subject to this kind of terror are left to deal with it in their own relationships: not knowing how to feel safe with someone you love, but also the terrified helplessness and even secondary anger of seeing someone hurt in some way that has something to do with what they've been through, but maybe also with you, and what you're trying to work out between the two of you, and not knowing how to separate those things or how to help or if you should just go or what. Visible damage from invisible monsters.
If one way to describe abuse is someone using their power to pass off what kills you for what you really need, no wonder what you really need might end up looking like it could kill you, and no wonder it would horrify you to learn you and the people you love—the people you try to build new, better loving relationships with, on honest and trusting terms—also have the power to hurt each other terribly, and that that power is not separable from your power to care. It doesn't […]
Screenshot of phone face in horizontal orientation: black background with dim red image of Mags’ face looking directly at the viewer next to bright red numerals reading 3:03
The skin above Mags’ knee with a healed hand-poked tattoo of a dogwood flower, black lineart with a somewhat stippled, dotted effect
Incoming text: photo of brown L. L. Bean backpack with slightly faded marker drawings of a sun, flowers, and vines; message “The old backpack makes another trip.”