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thedrellum

Writing writer who writes writeable writings.

website: andrewkozma.net/
Patreon: patreon.com/thedrellum

thedrellum boosted:
Radon Journalradonjournal@kolektiva.social
2024-11-30

@thedrellum sat down with us to chat this week and our latest interview is up: radonjournal.com/interviews/co

He explores the spark of his anarchist Issue 8 poem that was written during Trump's first term, anti-police brutality, why it's so uncommon for people to fight for a better world, and even the nuance between a PhD and MFA in Creative Writing #interview

Quote from an author
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-25

The mosquitos make me feel at home.

A postcard, front and back. The front of the postcard (made of thick, coaster-like material) has a silhouette of a mosquito on it. Without wings, strangely. Obviously, this is the symbol of Houston. The back reads: Dear S, to be honest, the mosquitoes make me feel at home. I know you hate them. Lord knows you have reason to. And yet, it is such a part of this city, being slowly bled dry by the fuckers. And it's not just the nostalgia of parties late at night in someone's driveway or back lot because we were too poor to go anywhere. Now that I'm back, it is almost like the mosquitoes are giving my blood back, my sense of self stronger with every itchy bite. I feel more and more the person I always wanted to be. And I crave red meat, nearly raw, cooked still bloody. I'm hungry. I'm hungry. ~N
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-22

Carting them away as they sang.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a group picture of Shriners inside their temple. They appear to be vaguely dressed in garb appropriating some indigenous culture and have instruments (mostly drums) before them. There are too many reds and yellows so it kind of looks like ketchup and mustard or a McDonald's reunion. The back reads: The shriners wouldn't divulge the location of their shrine or what god or entity it was a shrine to. All they did instead was sing tunes from the 50s and 60s, radio hits they'd transcribed to be sung by thirty or so voices. All the old men (they were all old, they were all men) tried to mold their expressions into utter innocence but ended up looking like raisins even further wrinkled by neglect. Their voices, too, were like the wind blowing through the dead leaves of trees. They'd all promised a show of strength to silence their critics, but all that happened was a bout of salmonella, ambulances carting them away as they sang.
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-21

Asked to sacrifice for the greater good.

A postcard, front and back. The front is divided into four equal-sized pictures, one in each corner, with the text Souvenir di Roma centered on the card. Each picture is of a classical style building in white stone, one covered with a mural, one with statues. Maybe one is Vatican City? They are all daytime shots and empty of people. The back reads: Tourism was the lifeblood of Rome, and so the citizens were asked to sacrifice for the greater good. This is how Isabella found herself a souvenir, following a tourist couple around the city a few days (sleeping in their hotel closet) before following them to the airport. That's where she thought it would all end, where her souvenir status as basically an unpaid tour guide would cease to be of use. Yet they handed her a ticket, provided gratis by the Italian government. "How will we remember what our trip was like without a souvenir?" As to that, she couldn't say. She assumed they had memories. They assumed she was remembering everything for them. Bon voyage!
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-16

It's against nature, they said.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows windswept palm trees on a hill above the water in the city of Tagaytay in the Philippines. Over the water can be seen another coast curved with mountains. The back reads: Scientists used their DNA magic to turn trees into cats, figuring that everyone deserved pets to cuddle with, allergies or no. The trees looked the same, but their bark and, especially, their leaves felt soft to the touch like fur. They purred when you touched them or scratched at the base of their branches. And they scratched you, too, for, well, for any damn reason. That was part of being a cat, right? That's what the scientists argued. Even after several people lost eyes to the trees, the scientists refused to admit they were wrong. It was too late to change the trees again. It's against nature, they said.
thedrellum boosted:
John Pfaffjohnpfaff.bsky.social@bsky.brid.gy
2024-10-15

For those who may still wonder why some of us insist on calling it the “criminal LEGAL system,” not “justice.” DAs pressure a man to plead guilty to a rape they already KNEW HE DID NOT COMMIT, withholding the DNA they KNEW exonerated him. 13 YEARS in prison. My GOD.

Long book passage laying out story in the post. From Hessick’s book on plea bargaining.
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-15

The lamb had button eyes.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a lamb next to some bright yellow flowers, all in New Zealand. The back reads: The lamb had button eyes which had to be sewn on by hand. This was by design, orchestrated from the top via genetic pollination by wasp sting. So much trouble to make them aesthetically blind so they won't be overly startled when their parents are butchered on the grass nearby. And the cuteness of the button eyes wasn't even the point, just a happy side effect that would boost tourism and meat consumption! But who was this for? Was it for the lambs who were destined to die anyway, and, really, might as well see the ugly side of life now to strip them of any illusions? Or was it for the people who didn't want to look their future food in the eye? The DNA was carried in the meat. Many people went blind. We sewed on so very many eyes.
thedrellum boosted:
AverixusAverixus@toot.wales
2024-10-14

Good morning. Today I got a very interesting response to a freedom of information request from Transport for Wales.

They pay almost £800,000 per year to an external contractor for "revenue protection" (which means enforcing ticket fines).

They earn ~£80,000 per year from ticket fines and penalty fares.

Which means they're paying ten times what they're making back from this process.

FOI response: whatdotheyknow.com/request/cos

Edit: petition in thread

#trains #transport #politics #wales #cymru

thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-14

A historical representation of the war of erasure.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a detail from an Etruscan sarcophagus, a worn painting of two armed Greek soldiers fighting a woman on horseback. The back reads: You see here a historical representation of the war of erasure. This is one of the most complete of the accounts of that war, all others being, academics suspect, erased. What was the technology that allowed for such erasure, that could destroy people, armies, whole nations? We hope it was erased as well. And yet every time we find a fragment of proof that the war of erasure actually existed, we also bring hunger for that weapon to be brought back into existence. Ignorance results in history repeating itself; just not THIS history.
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-12

@benlockwood I love that first one.

thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-11

We didn't live there.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a "typical Phillipine nipa hut" surrounded by palm trees, with a fenced-in garden full of flowers and plants. The building has a grass roof, a two-tiered roof, and flowers at every window. The back reads: Dear F, the AirBnB you recommended was wonderful. Perfect location! Great views! Clean and well-stocked! It was almost hard to believe we didn't live there, that it wasn't actually our home. Is that strange to say? As soon as we set our bags down, the memories came back. When we first moved in. How hard we worked at redecorating. The entire wall of J's bedroom having to be replaced after a bee swarm moved in, and bees began to die in his crib. Those are real to me, even now we've left, vacation over, and gone back to our real home. What hurts is J being gone, but we never had a child, after all. ~X
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-10

No one invited the glow into town.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows an aerial view of Queenstown, New Zealand that shows the bay it sits next to and the mountains in the distance. It must be near dusk or dawn as the city is lit up with lights. The back reads: No one invited the glow into town, but once it had settled in, no one was willing to make it go. The thing was, the glow paid its fair share of taxes, and light pollution is really only a serious problem for astronomers, most people agree, even if the glow as just as visible during the day as it was at night. The glow lived in the streets, so it wasn't taking up valuable living space, but it did consume ambient light, oxygen, and stray animals. The mayor said it was providing a valuable service. The missing children posters were ignored. The glow as a considerate neighbor, inviting everyone to their parties where they burned the unfortunate bodies.
thedrellum boosted:
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-10

They painted the people on the side of the house.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a decorated building in a German/European style with visible beams in the walls. The back reads: They painted the people on the side of the house to let you know they were watching. Not the people who lived in the house, of course, they couldn't care less about what was going on outside their walls. I mean the people painted on the house, they were watching. They lived on the walls and had little else to do than spy on the people walking by or trespassing through the backyard for a shortcut to school. Some people noticed the painted folks watching them. And some of those people heard the painted people's painted voices (like a half-remembered dream) and stepped closer to the wall of the house, just as the painted people suggested, getting themselves within arms' reach of those who, they were sure, did not have arms. Just as they assumed painted people would not have teeth. And yet, these painted people had both. What an oversight.
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-09

They painted the people on the side of the house.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a decorated building in a German/European style with visible beams in the walls. The back reads: They painted the people on the side of the house to let you know they were watching. Not the people who lived in the house, of course, they couldn't care less about what was going on outside their walls. I mean the people painted on the house, they were watching. They lived on the walls and had little else to do than spy on the people walking by or trespassing through the backyard for a shortcut to school. Some people noticed the painted folks watching them. And some of those people heard the painted people's painted voices (like a half-remembered dream) and stepped closer to the wall of the house, just as the painted people suggested, getting themselves within arms' reach of those who, they were sure, did not have arms. Just as they assumed painted people would not have teeth. And yet, these painted people had both. What an oversight.
thedrellum boosted:
Adam Parkhomenkoadamparkhomenko@threads.net
2024-10-08

Share this far and wide

Photo by Adam Parkhomenko on October 07, 2024. May be a Twitter screenshot of text.
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-08

The US government denying all responsibility.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows an evening picture of Rome in silhouette against the sky. Two inset letters -- O and K -- are filled with pictures of the Papal Palace (?). Text along the top reads a ROMA Tutto e. The back reads: OK. Okay. People were having a hard time with the move. Rome, Italy suddenly now in Oklahoma, and with the US government denying all responsibility. But who else could have the power and the interest (though that interest was contested -- what use in having another country's capital inside your country)? No one suspected Joe, though. He'd gotten away with it, having all the art he cared most about in the world in his backyard! He supposed he should've thought about his wish more carefully, as the ancient city's border actually begin where his property ended. Suspicious, right? But no one believe in magic or genies, and when people asked what he thought, he said, It's a shame.
thedrellum boosted:
Ben Lockwood, PhDbenlockwood@ecoevo.social
2024-10-08

In the midst of these horrific hurricanes, it's worth remembering that in May, Florida republicans removed the mention of climate change from state legislation, banned off-shore wind power development, and ended many other state programs designed to lower CO2 emissions.

#ClimateChange #hurricanemilton #florida #politics

npr.org/2024/05/16/1251769080/

thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-07

You said you were becoming a lake.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a forested lake shore in front of a vast lake backed by craggy mountains. Text at the bottom reads Bow Lake, Banff National Park, Canada. The back reads: Dear L, I'm sorry I did not believe you when you said you were becoming a lake. It seemed impossible! Even with all the recent advancements in science and the increasing desperation of the eco-messiah movement, I did not believe because I did not want to believe. You are my oldest lover. You were my oldest friend. And now you are something else entirely. A part of the planet! A last-ditch effort to try and turn back the clock on climate change by throwing our bodies, our very selves, into the gears working towards our destruction. Now, at your side, my tears become you. I have swum in the depths of your body. We are all still dying, but you will live, beautiful, cold, and alone. ~X
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-04

Death refuses to leave me alone.

A postcard, front and back. The front is a black and white drawing a woman being attacked by a grim reaper. The back reads: Dear V, Death refuses to leave me alone. I have spurned all of their advances, and yet there they are, always, as I go about my daily activities. Everyone else pretends to ignore the presence of Death, which becomes extremely embarrassing in certain situations, such as visiting the dentist or during my OB-GYN. Sure Death has no eyes, but that doesn't mean they aren't looking. I know you dealt with Death before, and somehow you convinced them to leave you alone. How long did that process take? What did you do to dissuade them? Did you have to make any sacrifices? A kiss? A fondle? A single night in bed just to take the edge of their infatuation off? I think that's what Death wants. They have killed plenty as they've followed me around, so my own death must not be what they desire. And yet that almost is what I've been driven to. The trouble is, I know that death isn't the solution, as I'll just be walking into the open arms of Death. How did you escape? And why, why I first wrote your name, did Death nod? ~Z
thedrellumthedrellum
2024-10-03

We all had little people in jars on our pantry shelves.

A postcard, front and back. The front shows a black and white drawing of a row of three jars, each with a tiny person inside. The back reads: It is not too much to admit we all had little people in jars on our pantry shelves. The this is, we were assured they weren't people, no matter how much they looked like people, no matter what rhetorical techniques they tried to get us to let them go. We'd paid for them, after all, our homunculi, our tasty little helpers that the corporations provided to us oh so cheaply, at a loss, even, they claimed, though we knew the CEOs were making bank no matter what. And even if what the homunculi said was even partially true...well, we depended on them so much. How else to clean the pipe clogs or the rat droppings in the ducts? Sure, we could remove the slugs and other pests from the garden, but it was so much easier for our little helpers, because they were so much smaller, the gross things just their size. And when disasters struck, as they do so often now, it just made sense to have food around that wouldn't spoil, and was so nutritious. They even, when prodded, cooked themselves.

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