once upon a time, dadaist artists made a revolution when they started exhibiting collages and ready-mades. could one say that you are dada? or rather just mr. cellophane like in the musical chicago? or like monsieur bovary, for whom everyone around makes all the decisions?

though there's absolutely no christmas spirit whatsoever. and somehow the decorations seem kind of absurd in this case. i don't know, maybe we should change our approach to christmas, or more specifically, to december?

that's why it's so frustrating when straight people in europe think they've done everything for "accepting" queer people. no, it doesn't work like that. "acceptance" is #not-enough - it's time to think about doing the work and working on themselves.

like in kafka's reality, i felt collective gaslighting. and it's hard. carrying this burden when everyone says the square is black while you see it as white. it's very hard. but it's not just hard, it's also very isolating.