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bee-skin@proton.me

today on the phone with rivers 1/14 full moon in crybaby

january 1

croquette crabs in philly

more croquette crabs, this time in flushing

thinking on courage and beer and course correction. how to skewer down the middle

串

zen me ke neng串味

胆力

串联
串通串亲访友

我在想所有经历都像成一串珠子

it's so embarrassing to be learning a language. just a base discomfort to lack communication good skills..
i listened to this episode of 'all my relations' the other day that ive been thinking about it constantly. going to relisten today.

sktch from my coat check shift last night, i wish hotglue didn't destroy the quality of photos

preparing myself for the new year

images from

new year of the wood snake

一路

平安

lucky knot leather bag in process

El Paso 2/13 - visiting concordia cemetery, home to the only historic chinese graveyard in Texas. Chinese men were brought to El Paso in 1881 to work on the railroads, only for the Chinese Exclusion Act to be passed in 1982. At this point there were few or none Chinese women in El Paso because of the Page act of 1875.

The concordia director told us that the city had granted them some large sum of money for the cemeteries up keep, but only for one section of the largely segregated graveyard, and not including the Chinese section. Behind the "chinese cemetery sign" it's largely empty. The director explained that there was a lot of vandalism, and only a few original weathered headstones left. Apparently they do not have the money to scan the yard to see how many bodies lay there unmarked.

This image (<--) is of the US border patrol wearing a swastika. the caption says that the boarder patrol was created in 1904 in El Paso to restrict Chinese immigration.

fuck borders, death to the vampiric settler state, while US americans sleepwalk through our grey corporate streets the people of the world are living in color painting on the borders and screaming free palestine

I read in [redacted] anarchist journal about vultures on the US-Mexico border:

"...for six years, vultures chose to haunt a 320-foot CBP communications tower along the US-Mexico border, defecating and vommiting onto the scaffolding until the caustic juices compromised the tower's structural integrity and it was rendered nearly unusable[...]Vultures consume rotten flesh that would sicken other animal species and renter it nutritive in the extremely acidic environment of their stomachs. They use their stomach acid in many versatile ways: they purposefully shit and piss on themselves, killing bacteria on their legs; they projectile vomit in self-defense, wielding it as a potent weapon[...] Rather than anthropomorphizing and superimposing anarchistic qualities over these animals who are so uniquely themselves, I like the ideas of asking: what can we learn from vultures about stubborn tenacity, the balance of life and death, and taking opportunities of intervention with the means available to us? How can we wield our very essences as weapons against our enemies, and make our fight part of the renewal process of the earth?"

tar baby by toni morrison

feb 17

gratitude dude

张开双手
变成翅膀守护你

fuck borders, death to the vampiric settler state, while US americans sleepwalk through our grey corporate streets the people of the world are living in color painting on the borders and screaming free palestine

immobilization in class

immobilization in at home

immobilization in class

immobilization in at home :p

MAY DAY

this may day show was so beautiful. one of the few moments where i can feel glad to be sharing things im making with fellow freaks no compromises just reclamation, trading art, moshing, and seeing my ex happily booed up all left me glowing and revived

THOU SHALL NOT PURSUE CRUSHES

elephant herd by guixing zhang, beautiful strange fever dream about a chinese malaysian boy and his search for the a communist guerilla group in the jungle

performance on may 26

2025

i figured out how to remove the background on the little mouse

heartbroken

to have lost my journal just two pages away from completion. it was my rock this past year, i dont think ive ever written so much and with such clarity. it contained overflowing hurt, hope, mysticism, friendship, and curiosity. i am assuaged only by the idea that someone found it and is enjoying it as a delicious secret.

i figured out how to write for myself over the past two and a half years. before then my thoughts went disorganized always, and i often felt like i was drowning in the complexity of everything. my ability to share with myself, to have moments of clarity, to write beautifully and for my eyes alone is a product of carving out a space. this journal was a home to me, i often wrote to it as an alter. i remember my first entry i was musing about the significance of the cover, and how the images would guide me for this period of time. butterfly with tendril hair, vena cava's beam beaming.

marx writes commodity, the labor that haunts it like a specter, and ofc a bunch about fetishism.

the practice of building these little homes is my gift to myself. the clothes i sew, the journals i bind, the websites i make... they're all armor that becomes me. with almost a spiritual fervor, i respect them and i respect myself.

may 10

matching teary baby tattoos<3

Johnny's Reef X Brooklyn Crab 5-17

ian's birthday gun happy birthday ian

my toni cade bambara fan page from last year

(website embedded-->mouse)

journal reborn :3

in progress page for a textile project..

baby bad bunny and baby soroa on the phone for my berlin sweethearts birthday <3

working on revamping my landing page... drew some stuff for it... stared too long/// feeling unsure

for the first time in who knows how long, ifeel impervious to love. to the kind of partnered couple-y love i aways hated yet too often found myself double dipping in.. its a real project for me to be so for myself and nurturing all my predispositions to mystery and removal. its so good to not have to answer to anyone in that suffocating way, yet strange to be clammily for myself. closed to so much. closed and aching tight. heartbreak so hemmed in. stewing in a hurt that was so personal. i give myself permission to be dramatic because this is my space carved for me free from any need to be good or rational. the ways i thought i would be moving through this part of transition were so wrong. i came out of surgery casing removed, like some strange and forlorn bug

BORN IN FLAMES, 1983

Cecilia by K Ming Chang

my angel friend left me this potato monkey sticker after a visit

the heat is making me insatiable

dead horse bay

love is getting to watch some of my favorite f words jump around on stage in costumes i made for them and we made together

working with kids is cool

kangaroo

<-- still from chameleon street (little relation other than coincidence).

i read that today was the day Nat Turner saw a solar eclipse that gave him the spiritual confirmation and renewed conviction to lead the deadliest amerikkkan slave revolt in 1831.

February a black sun, August a green sun. I'm so clearly seeing Atel Adnan's Arab Apocalypse in these prophetic suns.

I listened to an episode of one of my favorite podcasts (Groundings with D. Musa Springer) about Baba Musai from 2024. The interview was with one of Musai's daughters, Anoa Changa. It was such a beautiful episode, these family stories really speak to me, especially as an educator who feels so lost in how to transfer knowledge without force and in a way that calls people in. It's a very different telling of growing up in the fight than Bernardine Dohrn's son (in that one podcast idr the name), but I guess that makes sense because being underground must be very hard on a kid. Anyways, I dont feel like this is coming out right. I'm just trying to chronicle some things I've been thinking about, and in this interview about Baba Musai, his daughter speaks to how much her dad sharpened after converting to islam. She says it clarified his very existence, his personality.

many tendrils to these thoughts,,, im still making my way through Aerïon's Warlike, Howling, Pure (though maybe im actually done with it, i havent picked it up in 6 months)

leaving this space ill be back

plumb beach

thursday journaling.. ive been so anxious this week. i feel im coming up against certain questions about my lifestyle and goals in shifting my mental space. The adhock 'solutions' that people subscribe to like routine and discipline butt heads with my wholesome and idealistic desires for broader mental freedom. Unfortunately, we have to re-train ourselves, for freedom has been muscled out of us -- and without that training the mind falls victim to boredom, addiction, depression, etc. there's nothing that makes me feel less sexy than my over-reliance on short-form video content. It's a psychological effect of the mind under capitalism, as colonial subject, as 'female' or subjugated. It takes incredible mental fortitude to brace the ego-busting messaging of doing nothing. Fortitude that is not absolute, and in the most extreme cases, can make an epic bummer (George Jackson). But to be iron-willed is to build barracks behind bars. And god knows nobody demonstrates logic and utility in writing like George Jackson.

On the other hand, there's Jenny Odell and the attention economy. There's emptying the brain and Bartleby the Scrivener, which is to say, those with fewer stakes and those with the standing to merely 'opt out'. Makes me think of what Fanon would say.

Even piecing some things apart, remembering the teachers I've chosen, despite the confusion of having one foot in ( paying rent) and one foot out (making the something else), there's at least a trail of crumbs to follow back to myself. there's the ever-present questions and confusion and maybe im just chewing myself in circles but maybe the circles are getting wider and wider and containing more useful history and i hope im feeding that part of myself that's the king of cups, the principled stoic, the one with clarity or drive or conviction

it’s hard when when a someone enters a dooming, self-pitying mindset. Today I helped a friend move, and I couldn't believe how self pitying they were being
while actively gentrifying a neighborhood. When listening with little sympathy, all the excuses bare no significance. They feel like mantras of inaction, solidifying the case that they are victim to the path set out for them. These mantras prevents flexible thinking, freewill, acting strangely, the fact that it IS possible to align yourself with your morals. dont you know i have to answer for you too when i sit at my alter?

中
秋
节
快
乐

happy bike kill from this exquisite corpse