Dangly Bits and More

Testicles—honestly, WHAT the fuck.

I mean, really, this is not an attractive body part. Certainly not pretty enough to be hanging around on the outside, (like boobs), anyway. 

 How do men manage to walk, run, sit down or just do anything physical with those things banging around between their legs? Aren’t testes fragile little meatballs too? Why would a theoretical god put sperm generators (kind of important for the furtherance of humanity, no?) on the outside where they can easily be damaged?

I don’t think this imagined creator liked men very much which, for me, totally explains misogyny. Ya see, men are pissed that their dangly, delicate reproductive bits are A) homely and B) front and center outside the body where ANYONE can take a solid shot at them. It’s clear that god was either drunk when he/she sketched out the man plans OR had spilled coffee all over the schematics and didn’t bother to review and redraw before sending out to the manufacturer. Why not? God was drunk. Obvs.

So, I asked Ten—how do you manage to function with those easily damaged bits in the way. His response? “Carefully.” Yup, got it.
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Are potters and ceramic artists nicer/more socially skilled than painters? I believe so, yes. That’s been my experience at any rate. I think it’s because potters often need to team up to build and fire a kiln, figure out glaze chemical issues, manage large sculptural or functional work and what have you. Working in clay requires expensive equipment (kilns, chemicals, wheels, tools, etc.). Sharing those costs with a group makes it economically possible for those of us not born in a giant money patch.

So, clay people either start out more socially adept or they become so because it’s necessary.

There’s not nearly as much, if any need for teamwork in painting. Maybe some help constructing and stretching enormous canvasses?

I’ve worked both in clay and paint. Socially speaking, I’m better at more solitary endeavors.
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I imagine you’ve read about Elon MusKKK’s absurd name choices for some of his children. Of his 11 offspring, there’s X AE A-XII, Exa Dark Sideræl and Techno Mechanicus. These kids are gonna suffer some serious bullying in school. Those aren't names, they're fantasies or jokes you come up with after your fifth ill-advised G&T.

I wonder who I would be if I'd been given a more interesting name. I mean, I was already bullied to hell and back—how much worse could it have been with a creative handle?

Obsidian Ocean—definitely a bass player in a punk band.
Ruby Obsidian—a spell casting, herb growing witch.
Ocean Ruby—painter and installation artist a la Yayoi Kusama.
Violet Woods—modern fairy tale author in the same vein as Angela Carter or Margaret Atwood.
Lavender Rain—definitely a big fan of Prince.

I could’ve changed my name at any point (and have often thought of doing so) but reality always knocks me sideways. I despise paperwork AND I’d never remember to answer to my new name.