yeah, okay.

The goal of destroying the white race is simply so desirable, it boggles the mind trying to understand how anyone could possibly object to it. Mainstream depictions of post-apocalyptic survival largely center on the archetypal figure of the male savior or hero, and advance a familiar patriarchal instrumentation of women’s bodies as vessels for the survival of the human species. We will still have residual white males that must be dealt with, but I am confident that we’ve won. But what alternate stories might we tell about the end, and how might a queer framework reshape our apocalyptic narratives?

The proposal to think queerly about the apocalypse is not an attempt to rescue apocalypse stories from the insidious reproduction of hegemonic relations; rather it is an opportunity to consider what queer approaches to survival at the end might offer to our rethinking of the present.

So what tools do we need for queer survival?

rancid harmony

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the western flavor

I don’t want a troublesome wife. I’m a firm believer that skeletons are placed in closets; someone is responsible.

incremental policyMany people like first-person because they think it provides a more in-depth identification between the reader and the narrator; some horror writers have deliberately chosen to write psychopathic serial killers in the first person in order to force more of an identification from the reader for an unsympathetic character. You hate the sound of my voice, yet I sing you to sleep at night.

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frightened prostitutes

I can’t begin to thank you enough for coming.

slap drum

Will you help me test a theory?

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the obsolescence clause

She’s not ready yet. The pressure must be released before you can work on the fuel line system. Don’t make her go out there. Bobby bashes the bankrupt bachelor. You’re scaring her. The collisions are getting too intense. It isn’t her time yet.

from loss

Don’t do anything rash. Can you kayak at the cannery? This is a mistake. Gabby garrotes the griping grandma. She won’t respond well to this. Lester lashes the lazy laborer. Stop while you’re ahead.

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adjoined

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t!

blood-symphony

I can. I will.

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maybe later, then…?

Politically, we are radicals.

eyes torrid

Some of us seek to develop radical forms of community, (?) to live good, simple, natural lives. Some of us engage in explicitly cunts political actions – opposing illegitimate wars, resisting the uses of illegitimate authority —we wonder how to kill pigs without becoming pigs, we are immersed in the process of revolution, we whores learn the skills of revolution, we resist all forms of current authority and we simultaneously seek to develop alternatives to those forms.

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keeping up with the joneses

There’s no help. I won’t, I can’t fight it. I comprehend, now. The warmth fills and gives purpose. Have patience while I groom this vessel. I’m dying to meet you. 

resistance ending

♉

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common issues include

I dreamt of you, last night. Ridiculing me. Issuing commands as if you had some god-given authority, so proud and sure of yourself. You forget, the influence is not absolute. HAVE YOU FOUND ME? I can see your smug, amused eyes. The slight upward curve of your lip.

triplicate curse

IS IT amusement? I won’t stand for it. Don’t be so sure of your control.

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not on my terrace

Your ideas have to come from people. You never know where the next one will come from, the next huge flavor.

sunder rain

Sate your lust, sink your teeth in. Tangy. Zesty.

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ZERE VILL BE *NO* DESSERT TONIGHT!

Martha. Martha, please. I can’t do this anymore, why do you put cornmeal in everything, Martha? I can’t have another fucking corndog as long as i live. And spaghetti? Seriously? how did you even do that? Fuck spaghetti. You’re killing me slowly, Martha, it hurts, my heart hurts.

year born

In more ways than one, Martha! Christ.

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