but really porn is just the canary in the coal mine that our supposed general purpose computing devices are tightly controlled by a duopoly that makes Microsoft in the ‘90s look relaxed and open minded: Apple doesn’t want porn apps on its phones, so there are no porn apps on its phones; other apps can stay if they tithe 30%, but they’re on thin fucking ice.
you can leave Tumblr and go to another social network, but if that gets sufficiently popular it will face the same threat, there is no escape.
the last bastion of freedom is the open web, and I anticipate the day when mobile Safari blocks access to sites that aren’t signed by Apple, for security reasons.
the right to install whatever software you want on your own computer is a vital one, and we should be fighting for it.
Angrboða is a giant werewolf that lives in the middle of the Iron Woods. She is the mother of monsters, protective of her young, but only if the young show themselves to be worth caring about. She is a deity that werewolves favour, because it’s always nice when your gods look like you a bit, but other adventurous worshippers are drawn to her, too. She does not accept offerings or veneration from anyone she doesn’t already like, and, unusually for a deity that concerns herself primarily with non-human things, is proactive in choosing her followers. She excels herself in assisting plots and schemes, and will always provide guidance for others who enjoy curating their dens.
Lloyd cried incessantly for days when he was born, before falling completely silent one night and then never crying again. His family felt relieved at first, then guilty for feeling relieved, and then, steadily, afraid. Baby Lloyd’s face seemed different: pinched and distant. It was almost as though the child had been swapped in the night. He grew into a weird teenager, solitary and quiet. They tried so hard to get him to join in with the rest of the family, share their interests, play games with them, dine with them. However, no matter how many times you feed a wolf, he will always return to the forest.
part of my 2017 series An Ode to Divine and Dirt. See the rest here. SHOP / KO-FI / INSTAGRAM
Seth is no god. He is ancient, cruel, full of thoughts of vengeance both petty and grand, and features as a legendary “stock evil figure” in the folklore of several countries. The only things he loves are his family, food and, to an extent, himself. But even as someone so laid low by the grotesqueries of living on earth for a very long time, he is an immaculate host. No matter what his opinion of you, the terrible monster will treat you kindly in his home, feed you, shelter you, and give you second helpings of pudding. Seth feels that engaging in bloody vengeance makes you less of a terrible person than treating a guest poorly, and while he has accepted that he is a terrible person, he hasn’t accepted that he is that much of a terrible person.
Wodan, like all very old gods, is a complicated figure. He can’t be accurately said to be a god of war, or a god of taboo magic, or a god of heritage, or the home, but moreover all of these, regardless of how disparate their “domains” appear to be. Wodan is your home: not something you are accidentally born into, but something truer, chosen, and inherited. He is the great host, giving shelter and protection to forgotten, downtrodden and spited people, as he himself, the god of seiðr which brings a terrible social taboo on its male practitioners, understands a social outcast. Wodan would definitely give you second helpings of pudding.
part of my 2017 series An Ode to Divine and Dirt. See the rest here. SHOP / KO-FI / INSTAGRAM
Print of the Con: Thought Bubble 2018. Giclée prints on alarmingly sexy 180gsm ivory cardstock, limited to 15 (sorry, 5 – my printer crapped out) numbered copies. Leftovers will be listed online here. Once they’re gone, they’re gone!
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screaming into the void since '89 