Neuromancer homo punk Leatherfaggette. Fairy wearing boots. DanDIY, goth detective. Craves S&M as a slapstick way of life. Queer as a three sleeve sweater. Loves cryptozoology, punk, surrealism, queer feminism, the radical posibilities of humor, BDSM and glitter rock. Also a hyper-obsessed "The Mighty Boosh" nrrrd.

I'm from Argentina, so I'll be posting amphibianly: half in Spanish/half in English (it can turn a bit messed up because my English is pure DIY and my words tend to be be the scribblings of a flowerish musketeer).

YES HOMO, YES HOMO, YES HOMO <3

I’m super attracted to the concept of cosmic plaything right now. 

That source of amusing constant wisdom that is TV Tropes says about it:

COSMIC PLAYTHING: (…) Most of us like to think that our decisions have some influence on our lives. We think we are in control but sometimes, there’s the sneaking suspicion that an influence doesn’t like us or maybe it does like us but in an abusive way. These character don’t just suspect; they know.

For some strange reason, they find their lives governed by events and rules that defy coincidence and logical explanation. They might figure out some of the “rules,” like the what and the where, but the how and the why is a complete mystery.

The nature of such a situation allows a certain flexibility to writers, as they don’t have to think too hard about why this is happening, or if the character’s belief in their situation is correct, allowing them to focus on the immediate story.

(…)

Opposite trope of Karma Houdini on the karmic scale”.

Gimme danger little strangerAnd I feel with you at easeGimme danger little strangerAnd I feel your diseaseThere&#8217;s nothing in my dreamsJust some ugly memoriesKiss me like the ocean breezeNow if you will be my loverI wish you were insaneBut you can&#8217;t be my masterI will do you anythingThere&#8217;s nothing left aliveBut a pair of glassy eyesRaise my feelings one more time

This is lyric speaks for my heart, all the time. As a very good friend of mine says, &#8220;we&#8217;ve left with nothing more except the wicked wish to become ourselves more and more intense, everyday&#8221;.

Gimme danger little stranger
And I feel with you at ease
Gimme danger little stranger
And I feel your disease
There’s nothing in my dreams
Just some ugly memories
Kiss me like the ocean breeze

Now if you will be my lover
I wish you were insane
But you can’t be my master
I will do you anything
There’s nothing left alive
But a pair of glassy eyes
Raise my feelings one more time

This is lyric speaks for my heart, all the time. As a very good friend of mine says, “we’ve left with nothing more except the wicked wish to become ourselves more and more intense, everyday”.

Reblogged from thedoodypoo  877 notes

I think I’ve all but given up on trying to organize around something so annoying to me as sexuality

the idea that having sexual urges toward any given type of person somehow aligns me to anyone else who has even vaguely analogous desires to someone who is vaguely analogous to my desire object is boring

I don’t care about identities, I care about lifestyles

I don’t care about your urges, I care about your agency

gay is an unsatisfying category to me

faggot comes closer

By CALLOUTQUEEN (via sixtyforty)