derek des anges

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noises from my head and projects from my mighty fists

Dinnertime

“Aren’t you meant to be plotting a novel right now?”

Shhhhhh.

“Don’t you have a manuscript to edit?”

I just finished a pass, let me have five minutes.

“You’ve had rather more than f–”

Shhhhhh.

I made an art. You can buy prints, if you are absolutely desperate to own a print of a bowl of rice rather than an actual bowl of rice. Personally, I would rather have the rice, but I’m very hungry. This particular rice was consumed after an exhaustive examination of the Tate Britain’s long-awaited & hotly-anticipated Queer British Art: 1861 – 1967. I should probably have an opinion on that, on here, at length, but to be honest I feel that drawing a bowl of rice is less contentious and contributes more to the world than me bellyaching about minor details in what is, regardless of my fussing and personal preferences, a splendid step in the right direction regarding the inclusion of queer history.

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