After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We’ve been talking constantly ever since.
Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.
When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, “We can’t take any more families.” They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They’re now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they’ll apologize and leave.
Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn’t think it’s gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they’re saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There’s no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying “a card from the supermarket, there’s a password and username.” Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won’t load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn’t know what’s happening on the outside world.
Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, “The bombings are getting worse by the day.” The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she’s not sure if it’s because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn’t seen the clouds for a while.
Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, “they’re not entertainment.” If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I’d argue there are people who do care, but I’m not gonna lecture her pain. And they don’t deserve to be used to fulfill someone’s sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.
For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.
Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel’s Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.
That’s what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their “innocent civilians” come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it’s been 75 years—get used to it!
So I won’t risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.
People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There’s civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It’s widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.
Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel’s arms and surveillance technology industries, said: “Israel has kept the occupation because it’s a laboratory for weapons.”
straight women need to start fetishising sapphic women so there can be more femslash fan fiction. we gotta outsource and get more writers on board. I want it to get to the point where two women cant be on screen together without having a 80k space opera fic written about them. I want show runners to be scared of cancelling sapphic shows because legions and legions of fans will come after them. dont tell me my priorities are wrong.
straight women, you have been summoned for yuri duty.
I got a fish book from the library and I just think everyone should know that archerfish aka the guys that spit jets of water at bugs to knock them off plants and eat them aka these guys-
-are a social species (like a lot of fish), and that the jet spitting is actually a learned behavior rather than one they just do instinctually. They have to watch older members of their social groups do it a bunch of times (like up to thousands) before they’re able to successfully do it themselves. If you take a young one and isolate it from its species, they just never get good at it (they also catch prey like “normal” fish tho, so an archerfish that can’t archer won’t starve just bc of that)
When they do learn to do it tho, they can compensate for light refraction, vary how much water they spit based on the size of the insect they’re aiming for, and will learn to shoot insects that are midflight by spitting in the bug’s flight path rather than where the bug actually is
those first couple weeks after escaping a time loop have gotta be disorienting as all fuck. all those little cues that used to tell you what’s about to happen are now triggers that cause you to brace for something that isn’t coming. you have to relearn the permanence of death – hell, you have reacquaint yourself with the entire concept of finality altogether. everything keeps changing but it never changes back and you keep having to remind yourself that this is normal. “it won’t reset anymore,” you echo to yourself, over and over and over, like a broken record, like you’re still trapped in a loop, like someone who escaped the time loop but was doomed to bring it into the future with them
This is a problem the writers of the Simpsons have had to deal with - the Simpsons are late 80s, early 90s poor. They have two clunker cars, they live in a house that’s old-fashioned and has crappy furniture because they can’t afford to redecorate. Their TV is ancient. Their neighbors have visibly better stuff than they do, and when they shop they have to buy the bargain brands.
But their lifestyle now seems wildly out of reach to most modern kids! They have two cars! A big three bedroom house! Only one of the parents has to work! They have 3 whole children who they can afford to feed and clothe on a single income! It’s an impossible dream life for most people today.
i must not get takeout. takeout is the wallet-killer. takeout is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face the kitchen, fridge, and pantry. i will make choices about what to cook and then execute them. when hunger is gone there will be nothing. only i will remain.
Disability rights means nothing without body neutrality, and I mean this 100%. Plenty of disabled people look different, have scars and are missing limbs, have poorly maintained hair and teeth, and calling yourself a disability rights activist but staring at people who “look/act weird” cannot be ok.
i hate how they market alexa as a ‘member of the family’ like that’s SO fucking blatantly insidious and terrifying also if i wanted an untrustworthy/cold/emotionless machine in my life i’d just talk to my fuckin father
