Today I gave a lady at a food truck five dollars in exchange for the most gigantic fruit salad I’ve ever seen. After that I got a tattoo and then I had some fried Taiwanese sausages and a beer.
It’s deer molars and a quote from Margaret Atwood. Activism is a long fucking grind — it means being inconvenienced and uncomfortable over and over again in pursuit of incremental gains. After the 2016 election I wanted something permanent to touch down on when I feel burnt out.
I read The Handmaid’s Tale when I was about twelve. Most of it went over my head and the rest of it scared the shit out of me. It’s an intense book when you’re in middle school. I remembered two things very vividly: one, Atwood describes a penis becoming aroused as a snail coming out if its shell which was possibly the first detailed description of male genitalia I’d ever encountered, and two, Offred finding don’t let the bastards grind you down scratched into the floor of her room in schoolboy latin.
The former I would rather not immortalize, but it seemed apt to put the latter on my skin.