What in the time is this

Alexia PdC

02 Jul 2025 — 1 min read

Spiral Time Is Crip Time Is Queer Time Is Black Time Is Neuro’d Time Is Wild Time + Lost Time

How do the people who have to survive capitalist time - but truly dwell in these times - make life work?

I only can because it’s just me, my neurodivergences and disabilities, and my 29.6 contracted salaried hours.

How do we find BELOVED time?

Time for soft cuddles and caresses, time to be still and not overwrought by the everythingness. Time to sit in a garden and write, in spite of the system. Time for meals together and raucous laughter. Time to be sick and ill without worry. Time for art.

We’re not supposed to, which is why we must.

I commit to more beloved time amongst my queer, crip and neuro’d collective, carved out in the underbelly of white capitalist industrial time.

FUCK YOU, TIME

Where are the words

When the air is wet and your hands are cold in your room Called to be in hibernation for three to four months The system denies that mammalian softness, as it tears all of us from our natural needs A candle burning on the slate hearth of my rented room

A letter from the empire to himself

I yearn to be less stubborn, and willing to see the possibilities beyond myself I am nearly 450 years old Dusty and tired in every pore, and yet Habits are hard to let go I am the largest empire of all time A quarter of the world’s land in

Hold the pose

Vogue, strike a pose. Shed your clothes. Hold for 10 minutes. Feel the slow burn. Scritch scritch, scratch. “10 minutes left” In the break I walk around the room slowly, taking in the many versions of myself. Held by the artists’ gaze, I am a powerful solid body, beautiful to

Maltese musings

A few short thoughts from the archipelago that is Malta. I had a good time, would recommend esp for spoonie rest. Malta, a place of many empires meeting melting mouthing “we were here, too” The British were last, carving out there ‘politeness’ into the limestone Mdina – Arabic for city – was

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Where are the words

A letter from the empire to himself

Hold the pose

Maltese musings