🔶 KLCY AXIOM Prime @kelseyhusky@awoo.space

Me, (cont. internally): THIS IS WHY NO ONE FEELS LIKE THEIR CONTRIBUTIONS ARE VALID, or EVEN LISTENED TO! AND ALSO WHY I QUESTION YOUR ABILITY TO UNDERSTAND ENGLISH! *SIGH* PER. MY. LAST. EMAIL...

Me: Yeah, sure , I can get all 300+ devices in Phase 1 located and ready for the next step by the end of the week.

Me, 3 WEEKS ago: "Hey guys, maybe we should validate our inventory of devices and their locations before we have to do a manual process of getting our devices ready for migration to a new site. In a new state. Our current information is not matching up with reality. Not being able to find things where we think they are will make finding them where they actually are in the future HARDER and take more TIME, so maybe we should do that before we are under a SITE EXIT DEADLINE?"

Them: Are there a lot of devices that have incorrect locations?

Me:The fact that there are any devices at all with incorrect locations means we need to verify the locations are correct before we JUMP INTO A HUGE FUCKING PROJECT TO MOVE THEM ALL. By the END OF THE YEAR. While I still have to TRAIN THE NEWBS over and over and over again and KEEP UP WITH THE TICKETS, and the CONSTANT interruptions for working ALL of the PRIORITY tickets.

Them:

Me, today, 3 weeks later: I FUCKING TOLD YOU!

Is Biden/Harris the /best/ ticket?

No.

Will Biden/Harris put me in a reeducation/labor/death camp just for being black/trans/queer/Vocally critical of the government? Cheer on racists and pedophiles?

Maybe not? But fucking cosmos I would rather have maybe not over 45's "Fuck yes, twice! As soon as I can get the chance! MAGA!"

10 things muttered to myself at the Crossroads:

1. These streets don't need you! They're already paved with the black off boy's skin, torn there from his knees when a fat pig fell from a great blue tower in a thin ballistic line and landed on his neck.

2. These streets don't want you!
They''re already painted with the hot summer's fresh new red paint, splashed out in an ballistic line of racism 450 years old and only 9 millimeters wide, what a bridge to be carried over by 6 to be dropped 6.

3. When they carry me over, bury me face down so all you MOTHERFUCKERS can KISS MY BLACK ASS ONE LAST TIME. And fold my hand up between my thighs, letting my extended middle finger point up toward the stars through my rough backside -road in a digital chocolate ballistic line like an Atlas 5 taking off to point the way.

4. Let the ESSENCE of the world who fucked me come leaking out over MY fresh claws. Let it be the creamy white center between the dark cookie moons and show me for the wonderful snack I was, BEFORE I got twisted open. Before I got dunked on and into; Putting vanilla frosting on the outside and the inside so I can finally be the OREO those boys called me.

5. When is the devil getting here? Just like a tar heel to be stuck on the ground and making me wait. Waste my time on his contracts. and schedules, and his deadlines.

6. Say my name. #SayHerName. Hash Tag, Bodybag, dag, man. Like, how're you supposed to get over it, when the blood river has been flowing for so long, and keeps getting wider ever year, eroding away the shore on both sides until the whole world-
banks are starting to col-
laspe into silence like a still heart of-
Darkness is WHO I AM.

7. The historical trajectory of my life is an unstable, broken ballistic line back through time from Seattle to San Jose to Plymouth to Cleveland to Plymouth again to Cleveland again, to Plymouth again, to Golden Valley, to St. Louis Park when Mothership Doctor Debora Lynn Brooks-Golden (so much Culture) released me for my acceptance trials. Her line goes back to Cleveland and then back through her mothership to Tennessee. And I don't really know where it goes from there. Maybe further south. Might've gone east.

8. We were headed north, though. Following the Drinking Gourd to freedom. Away from I don't even know and can't even imagine, to Uncle Shot's tobacco farm through World War 2 and the Air National Guard, and the East End Barber shop and Antioch and Glenville and booksellers and Case's Sci-Fi Film festival where my mothership and fathershuttle had some of their first matched orbits.

9. I used to want to be on these streets before I knew who they had paved over. I wanted to be outside with the little black boys and girls, screaming in the fire-hydrants, dancing their dances, dancing their hands, skipping their ropes,playing their ball, listening to their music and speaking the sweetest, wettest, ear-tickling flow a girl could enjoy, smoothing and blending and REMIXing the worst possible language into something beautiful and moving just in how easily it could hold a child's joy. The scream of 10 black kids running after an ice cream truck just hit different.

10. Seriously where the fuck is he? I got all his baggage on my back, in my pancreas, inside my mind. Soon as he whips out that fiddle, Im finna beat his ass with it. Maybe he can follow the lines in this road.

I'm surprised that morphing an animal of a different gender never came up.

IFF. Identify Friend/Foe

Pronoun buttons. Fandom Patches. Campaign Ribbons. Con Badges. Anyone remember fandom codes, or are all you too young for that shit?

Who's side are YOU on?

I know me and my friends are on the same side, we got our badges done by the same artist on a group buy and we picked them up at our last con together before Kitty had kids and Husky got sick and Dragon became a hashtag, and Foxy had to move back in with her parent cause she lost her job.

My work buddies are on the same team, we all have the same shirt, given to us by Uncle Jeff, and whenever we feel insolent and mistreated by work, its not surprising to see more than one of us in a gray t-sirt that brands us "Essential" on our chests, right where our hearts are supposed to be while our badges hang like yokes around our necks.

You're not on my side, your Fallout patch isn't in the first row on your chest, right where everyone looks first because who looks at faces anymore?

You're not on their side, I don't see a badge, or a flag pin on your lapel, and nothing about you screams Security. Or Immigration. Or racist, or sexist, or rapist, or President*cough*Donald*cough*all 3*cough*Trump*cough*

I can't judge you by your clothes I don't want to know enough about them to be able to. Fuck those people that do.

_I_,

don't judge you by the color of your skin. I listen closely to your voice so I can parse your words, not place your accent, and I beg your patience if I have to ask you to repeat yourself. Your words are lovely and I only wanted to hear them again so I could understand you better. Doesn't matter where it came from, it's beautiful and yours and FUCK any one who tells you otherwise! I have problems hearing through some, but that's not on you, that's on me and my triflin' ears.

This person likes the same game I like. That person is wearing a shirt with the logo on it of a show I fell in love with when I was 5. I'm looking at all you fake-ass Voltron-shirt-at-Target fans only liking shit cause its retro and ironic. Some of us had to pay the Blockbuster for a new VHS when they wore out the VHS tape!

I was so glad when I figured out what actually made someone different. When I figured out the things I could start sorting people by.

Useful delimiters that smooth my anxiety over, gives my socially akward ass common ground, and just, something to talk about, and connect with my fellow human on.

If your colors are Mass Effect Paragon Blue, Steven Universe Pink, Progress Pride and its United Nations-technicolor--rainbow of individual battalions of variations. Queer Villian Pride, Trans Pride, Honda Motorcycles, French Silk Pie. If you rock LP Underground, Torrid, Toonami, #SAYHERNAME,#BLACKGIRLMAGIC,#NOTTODAY. IF YOU WEAR EARS AND A TAIL.

Then I am happy to see you and change your marker on my mini map from Unknown Yellow to friendly Green

When I walk down the street, and my sensors pick up a hostile, I know how to adjust my flight path, and how to cover my own codes so that I don't end up on the MIA list.

Because those white sheets, and red hats, and precinct badges, and red ties, and flag pins on lapels, and Stars&Bars booty shorts on your gay cousin Cletus that actually look cute on his inbred ass but you can't say anything outloud at the swamper's family reunion cause you can't make things awkward in front of your Uncle Vlad the grand wizard from Moscow, Mississippi.

Didn't walk out of the house on their own.

Yeah, fuck work, the river tribe and all of Uncle Jeff's money. I'm watching black girls on Button Poetry and feeling my soul fill back up.

dammit, I'm really proud of this one.

It's Music.

Synesthesia. Tying multiple senses together so that stimulating one produces responses in another. If you ever see someone talking about hearing in color, than your smelling what I'm touching, and I feel what your saying.

I invented a piece of fictional artwork that I haven't even tried to prototype, to try and show what this sounds like, so that other people can smell this amazing sensation.

And I can't see it, but my mind knows how it should feel, and can hear the dried paint on the smell of the stretched canvas while this spark tries to speak into my eyes sweet enough for my ears to be able to see everyone saying:

"I feel you."

To Poet

Thanks to the algorithm and hormones, I cry on the semi-regular now.

Every so often, poetry on youtube will appear in my recommendations and I will ignore work, and ignore emails, and open up tab after tab.

And watching, I listen to people autopsy themselves while they're still alive.

After-action reports of first dates, and lost loves, and that one time i realized my tits were different sized, but they were still awesome, and how it feels to be holding my loved one's empty husk, waiting for the EMT's to arrive while praying that I was wrong and there was still some one to be saved and not turn taking a shower into the hardest thing I'll ever have to do.

Speaking into microphones I'll never have in front of me, to audiences I'll never met, saying word that I know but have never heard.

In that way,
with that voice,

In stories of pain, and love, and loss and hope; mundane as a to-do list and as profund as revealing the answer to the oldest question, Why?

Why me? Why this? Why him, Why not her? Why this story, and not that one, because you've told this one before, and i've heard it better out of them and not you and what makes me so convinced that MY story is worth sharing, even though so many others have said it before.

Said it better.

Said it with far more eloquence, and with better diction that some confused 36-year old kid pretending to be an adult with a functional brain.

And watching, every time, I cry, and I hear the answer.

1. My Name is: I always figured Eminem was referencing these books instead of polite name tag, and was just too attached to being hip hop to admit it.
2. The Chee.
3. Crayak is a dick
4. No. 26 The Attack is where Jake and Cassie hand Crayak a defeat unintentionally by having their first kiss.
5. I could always picture the Animorph's mall in my mind, and it always looked like Ridgedale Mall in Minnetonka, MN in my head.
6. Visser was a great fucking book. I hate the Yerks (protip, kids: space fascism sucks, cause it's still fascism.) But I was also watching a lot of Law and Order when it came out, so Court stuff was neat to me, and I remember that.

Fuck I had forgotten how much I loved Animorphs. On my tombstone, please put "90's Kid" on a transgender Jazz-solo.

Anyone ever taken the MCAT test before?

So, apparently, Youtubers are writing boss music for the Tuba Warriors, and coming up with various unit types for a non-existent video game. and the commenters are running with it.

I love the internet sometimes.

A cheap trick: stealing the infinity stones while struggling in a QTE with Thanos.
A cheesy one-liner: Going out the way he left everyone throbbing and drooling for more, in the most tiny stark way possible. If "I am Iron Man" delivered with RDJ's smirk isn't the top shelf of cheeses, nothing is.
Tony saved everything just by being himself. Nice bit of writing. IMO, anyway.

So, Geordi's VISOR was fucking cool. I know it was just a spray painted beret that gave LeVar headaches (and Geordi, too! TIL!).

But fucking shit that thing was fucking cool and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.

Ugh, I've got an Idea for how this championship belt is supposed to look like, but hell if I'll be able to explain it to anyone.

So, apparently, IDW's Arcee (from the long run that started 2008) is actually canonically trans.

and before I get yelled at, I know that run has problems, and isn't woke at times, but it's MY most enjoyed version of a toy commercial. The arcs and stories i love the most minimize human involvement and focus on the drama of a different society.

"Continue to build union between movements stretching across the globe because we must put away our willingness to profit from the exploitation of others."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxbuJXOJbj0

I'm still not sure how much more I can dive into the fight for the America I was told I lived in, but I know that any effort i put in will add to the amplitude of the waveform of progress.

I am so glad to see POGs making a comeback. I still have my collection from when I was growing up

*Whispers from off screen*

What? That's not what the kids are talking about? Damn Zoomers. keep making up new words, stop stealing ones Millenials already made up when we were your age!