E.Y. Washington (@eywashington) - Collective Profile | San Diego, US I belong to a lineage that spreads laterally like a line, lyric, and sentence.

E.Y. Washington @eywashington

I belong to a lineage that spreads laterally like a line, lyric, and sentence.

San Diego, US

nightstand tbr piles

abandoned sketchbooks

marked music on rickety stands

dancing in tall mirrors

pushpin queer gallery wall

silver screen voyeurs

Flowers will bloom where he lies

The women watch the men to see if they will bend

Absence makes the hole grow fonder. Or whatever they said.

Today’s dissociative pirouette brought to you by Fred Neil’s “Fartheewell (Fred’s Tune).”

Take me back…or else.

Today’s dissociative record scratch brought to you by The Cradle’s “Rememberer’s Heaven.”

Tom of Finland (1959), graphite on paper

Who knows where I pulled him from, just happy he was available to pull

If the pronoun “I” is shorthand for the word “inheritance” as poet Tommy Pico suggests, I an African-American have inherited the experience of being claimed in spirit, soul, and body. My opinion on claiming identities? Simple. They are not meant to be claimed which is to say stolen, held captive, and consumed. If they are tied up and many of them are, resource them generously and set them loose.

When you feel pain, they taught, fall into your brother’s love.

Today’s dissociative excuse was brought to you by Lianne La Havas’ “Fairytale - Solo.”

Cheat first so you don’t get your feelings hurt 😘

Today’s dissociative loop-de-loop brought to you by Chris Weisman’s “The Holy Life That’s Coming.”

Oh, the hold men have on me

Today’s dissociative spree brought to you by Spruce Grouse’s “Small Fools.”

“Love,” Nosferatu wheezed, “is inferior to you.”

Today’s dissociative sprint brought to you by Tír na nÓg’s “Dance of the Years.”

Happy Mariposa ;)

Today’s dissociative exercise brought to you by The Smile’s “Pana-vision.”

Sleep is coming soon

Honestly, I miss being blonde.

“For my so called sins against nature and the race, I gain the burdensome knowledge of carnal secrets. It rivals rituals of sacrifice and worship, and conjures the same glassy-eyed results- with less bloodshed. A knowledge disquieting and liberating inhabits my soul. It often comforts me, or at times is miserably intoxicating with requisite hangovers and regrets. At the other moments it is sacred communion, causing me to moan and tremble and cuss as The Holy Ghost fucks me. It is knowledge of fire and beauty that I will carry beyond the grave. When I sit in God’s final judgment, I will wager this knowledge against my entrance into the Holy Kingdom. There was no other way for me to know the beauty of Earth except through the sexual love of men. Men who were often more terrified than I, even as they posed before me, behind flimsy constructions of manhood, mocking me with muscles, erections, and wives,” said Essex Hemphill

Black love and music. Is that too much to ask?

Can’t tell if I like it here or not…

Plucked off of Pinterest, imagining my own abode

Today’s dissociative torrent is brought to you by Chris Weisman’s “A Similar Angel.”

Today’s dissociative tantrum is brought to you by Bridget St. John’s “Song To Keep You Company.”

Oh, fuck. I’m too high to remember where I plucked them from.

Tom of Finland, 1947, watercolor on paper

Happily plucked from bluer skies I believe. Thank you, sir.

“I,” formerly enslaved African Equiano wrote, “not only felt myself quite easy with these new countrymen, but relished their society and manners. I no longer looked upon them as spirits, but as men superior to us; and therefore I had the stronger desire to resemble them, to imbibe their spirit, and imitate their manners. I therefore embraced every occasion of improvement; and every new thing that I observed I treasured up in my memory” makes me so damn sad.

Today’s dissociative march is brought to you by Roberta Flack’s “I Told Jesus.” I played the tune incessantly after I changed my given name.

Happily plucked from retroblackhomo over on bluer skies.

Today’s dissociative marathon brought to you by Linda Perhacs’ “Call of the River.”

Do you need a Fairy Fagmother?

Plucked from Instagram. Many thanks to @whereloveisillegal

“To idealize—one must understand what he is idealizing,” figurative artist Thomas Eakins said, “otherwise his idealization—I don’t like the word—becomes distortion, and distortion is ugliness.” Eakins work deemed unromanticized body beautiful. His dedication to realism seemingly bloomed from a desire to draft the body as it presently is. As I learn figuration, desire and idealization hijack my work often. I long to craft realistically like Eakins—a tricky yet worthwhile feat.