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MMP

@studiedtorments.bsky.social
92 followers 549 following 123 posts
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MMP @studiedtorments.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
"I'm as liberal as they come, but" = someone is about to volunteer, unforced, that they think about strangers' genitals and sex lives on a regular basis
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burn it all down @russbengtson.bsky.social · 07/05/2026
you kid but a version of the odyssey where someone gets lost as shit trying to drive back home through boston while having various adventures could be great
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Jerad Walker @jeradwalker.bsky.social · 17/04/2026
This is what happens after 30 if you don’t stretch.
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leon @leyawn.bsky.social · 07/04/2026
yeah man i'll circle back to you on that agenda item from yesterday's all hands in just a sec. our pedophile king just threatened to destroy a whole civilization
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this corrosion @roguesecunit.bsky.social · 30/08/2025
Thing is, the Noem & Homan Show has yet to come to a city that's just terribly designed. We give your GPS nightmares. We love a sudden dead end. We have like 19 Washington Streets & none of them have street signs bc fuck you. You took a left? Surprise, motherfucker, you're at Logan Airport. Forever.
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nora "nora.jewelry is now open" rude (they/them ze/hir) @nora.zone · 14/08/2025
i am so sick of hearing about people who are uncomfortable about trans people in public bathrooms as if you have some right to total peace of mind in the place you can hear strangers having diarrhea
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Solomon @solomonrmissouri.com · 12/08/2025
Beloved… hateful and homely??? You gotta pick a struggle
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MMP @studiedtorments.bsky.social · 13/06/2025
While working as an opera usher, I told a late-arriving Richard Gere that he couldn't be seated after the start of the performance (my boss then swooped in & seated him & I got in trouble 🙄). His cowboy boots made us exactly the same height (5' 4"). Years later, I sold Katie Couric some shoes.
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Nicole Chung @nicolechung.bsky.social · 01/01/2025
I count, this first day of another year, what remains. —Jane Hirshfield
Counting, This New Year’s Morning, What Powers Yet Remain To Me
by Jane Hirshfield

The world asks, as it asks daily: 
And what can you make, can you do, to change my deep-broken, fractured?

I count, this first day of another year, what remains. 
I have a mountain, a kitchen, two hands. 

Can admire with two eyes the mountain, 
actual, recalcitrant, shuffling its pebbles, sheltering foxes and beetles.

Can make black-eyed peas and collards.
Can make, from last year’s late-ripening persimmons, a pudding.

Can climb a stepladder, change the bulb in a track light.

For four years, I woke each day first to the mountain, 
then to the question.

The feet of the new sufferings followed the feet of the old, 
and still they surprised.

I brought salt, brought oil, to the question. Brought sweet tea, 
brought postcards and stamps. For four years, each day, something.

Stone did not become apple. War did not become peace. 
Yet joy still stays joy. Sequins stay sequins. Words still bespangle, bewilder. 

Today, I woke without answer. 

The day answers, unpockets a thought from a friend

don’t despair of this falling world, not yet

didn’t it give you the asking
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MMP @studiedtorments.bsky.social · 06/12/2024
New here! I mostly lurked on the other site and will likely do so here too. Y'all are more interesting than I am!
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