My Cardboard Balcony

Mortal by Belinda Roddie Remember, a tyrant still bleeds, and we have needles and claws to prick him with.

Beware by Belinda Roddie The Ides of March have come. Death to capitalist emperors.

The Great Maw by Belinda Roddie And so we were swallowed whole - all of us - together.

One Year Ago by Belinda Roddie One year ago, I was in a classroom. One year ago, I was drinking cider a bar. One year ago, I was preparing to teach from a laptop. I was preparing to barely to leave the home. I was preparing for the worst. The worst, for many, came. The worst, for many still, lingers. We are bruised and battered. And those bruises are still there. Discolored. Disorienting. No matter how many needles we get in the arm. One year ago, I was optimistic for something more temporary. For a better response. If only I knew. If only we knew.

Rest In Power by Belinda Roddie Breonna Taylor should still be alive today. Fuck the police.

Well, folks, after a depressive episode earlier in the week, taking a break from cosplay filming for a while, and trying my damndest to get Facebook to stop being a turd, I wound up changing the URL of my blog. It is now belindaroddiescardboardbalcony.blogspot.com. Yes, I know it may mean that, in the slim chance that my blog posts are restored on Facebook, the URLs will be broken. But I don't have much confidence in the Social Media Goliath doing the right thing. So there, Zuckerberg. And so there, whoever reported me. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Dear Brutus by Belinda Roddie I do not find fault in our stars or in ourselves.  But the constellations  sure look wonky tonight.