Happy Women’s Day! A tribute to all the females out there :)
I had a couple of requests for Valentine themed art in my ask box, so here’s some Mitzi and Zib from way back when (late, of course, because that’s how Tracy do).
Always, Stand by Me
I won't need weapons while you are beside me.
You know you’re a fangirl when your breath hitches, hands tremble, heart skipped a beat and then start grossly sobbing the moment you close the last page of the final chapter. WHAT ARE ALL THESE FEELS.
But, what an ending :’)
A blanket of fresh snow
makes any neighborhood idyllic.
Dearborn Heights indistinguishable from Baldwin Hills,
South Central even—
until a thawing happens and residents emerge
into the light. But it almost never snows in L.A.,
and snows often in this part of Michigan—
a declining wonderland, a place not to stand out
or be stranded like Renisha was.
Imagine a blonde daughter with a busted car
in a suburb where a brown homeowner
(not taking any chances)
blasts through a locked door first,
checks things out after—
around the clock coverage and the country beside itself
instead of the way it is now,
so quiet like a snowy night
and only the grief of a brown family (again)
around the Christmas tree, recalling
memories of Renisha playing
on the front porch, or catching flakes
as they fall and disappear
on her tongue.
They are left to imagine
what her life might have been.
We are left to imagine the day
it won’t require imagination
to care about all of the others.
"Yeah, I am in love. I’m definitely in love. She picked me up in a bar, actually. She walked by and just looked at me and smiled and I went ‘Hey’ and she goes, ‘Hey’. I was just like, ‘Oh my God’, she took my breath away." - Darren McMullen
When was the last time you mailed a postcard?
My mother kept the ones I sent her. My sister mailed them
to me after my mother died. I had forgotten I had written
so many small notes to my mother. The price of stamps
kept changing. I was always mentioning on the back of cards
I was having a good time. I can remember the first time
I lied to my mother. It was something small maybe the size
of a postcard. I went somewhere I was not supposed to go.
I told my mother I was at the library but I was with Judy
that afternoon. Her small hand inside my hand.
I was beginning to feel something I knew I would never write