💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

pictured: my handmade amethyst anxiety bracelet. it’s just a nice calming purple beaded bracelet. these bracelets were born from my own struggles with anxiety. the soothing colors and textures are a tactile comfort, and the amethyst, in particular, has always been a little tactile calm for me. i use a double-threaded stretch cord for durability, as i know how important it is for a piece of jewelry to withstand daily wear. creating these has been a form of self-care for me, and i hope they bring that same peace to others when i get them up in the shop. the process of stringing the beads is sometimes physically painful due to my porphyria hands, but the intention behind each piece makes it worthwhile and rewarding.  i make all kinds of sparklies, but there’s a special place in my heart for stress relief jewelry. the amethyst beads were a little grey and lumpy but complemented this pink and white beaded bracelet palette perfectly. amethyst is also reputed to be good for clarity of tho...

Emilio and Frannie pushing each other on a swing at a townie funeral. The perfect clash of morbidity and playful romance — Emilio’s goofy grin and Frannie’s infectious laugh made a dark, somber moment unexpectedly warm. This swing set was Emilio’s favorite quiet spot in Forgotten Hollow, a small refuge from the chaos. Though mortals rarely felt at ease in supernatural company, Emilio’s indecisiveness and phone distractions were nowhere in sight. Frannie didn’t let him touch the camera for her content, but no one minded.

this is part one of a two-part series on why i keep a rock in my pocket (and you maybe should too). it’s really not that hard, dude. i got this. and so do you. i use it as my little pocket homie! when i’m spiraling, stressed, or think i might scream in the streets because my phone died again, i grab my fav charm, a new stone, whatever i wanna use. i touch it. i squeeze it. i pretend it’s absorbing my bullshit feels like a magical stress sponge. it cannot talk back, it does not judge me, and it’s not gonna pee on me like that one time my rabbit did! i use my charms to manifest myself. i wake up (if i slept), grab my charm, and tell it my intention like it’s my hot (but fictional) werewolf boyfriend who actually listens. i say: “today i will not fall down the stairs. i will not scream at bananas for their existence. oh no, not i. i will survive.” and the charm understands. i repeat as necessary. the stone is now my hype charm. ✨ stay tuned for part two — coming soon!

warm and dry, sunny and comfortable — very little marine layer inland. the kind of weather that slaps, probz the nicest month we get before summer tries to kill us all 🦷 this goddamnwed week. i sort beads by vague color just to calm my hands. skull beads lined up like teefs. writers group asked if my friends use dating apps for relationships or casual vibes. “how should i know? it’s not like i read their bio,” i wrote. candy elle called from a car, shit reception, talking about some castle drama. i half-listened, half-drilled. my pills sat on the table for an hour before i took them. i hate it but i do it. phyllis hopped onto the chair and nosed the roman glass. i pulled it back fast. some things can’t be replaced and her tummy is one of them.

oh, bless tito’s for finally saying what we’ve all been pretending not to: sometimes the best gift for the mommy who wiped your shitty ass… is ethanol with a bow on top. and a locked bathroom door.  society’s marketing horseshit usually wants to positions moms as saints, angels, martyrs. tito’s said, “fuck it. give her booze. let her have a queen’s hangover monday morning.” alcoholism is a much beloved tradition in many families!  is it healthy? nope. but has she earned it? maybe; the bar for parenting is so low we applaud people now for not murdering their kids. so fuck it. pour that bitch a drink. let her go feral in heavenly peace. cheers, moms! get sloshed!