"The cyborg would not recognize the Garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust."
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it’s because I must look stunning. Then I notice something is rising up around me. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl in the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. Somehow I’m not afraid to stop because my flesh doesn’t seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I’m gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames. Then all at once, the fire is gone. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I’m naked and why Cinna has arranged to burn away my wedding dress. But I’m not naked. I’m in a dress of the exact same design of my wedding dress, only it’s the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that’s when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.
(Source: asilverliningforthegirlonfire, via oru-otu)
i hate hearing girls complain about “that time of the month”. yeah it might be painful and yeah you get some weird cravings but you get to be a fucking werewolf until the full moon goes down.
i have been informed that apparently this is not what “that time of the month” is.
'The rabbit in the room.' from the Drawing On Postcards series
Judith Butler Explained with Cats →
Following hot on the heels of Foucault Explained with Hipsters, here’s JB’s Gender Trouble Â explained in Socratic dialogue style. With cats. All page references fromÂ Butler, J. (1990 [2008: …