Katie Alafdal
Bio
queer poet and visual artist. @leromanovs on insta
Achievements (1)
Stories (55/0)
13 Amazing LGBTQIA+ Musicians to Check Out This Summer!
1. St. Vincent Born Annie Clark, St. Vincent grew up in Dallas, Texas. With an angular face, dark penetrating eyes, and a low, lilting voice, St. Vincent covers a great deal of ground; she sings about her father’s incarceration, her failed romantic relationships, the frantic hum of New York City and the glitter of Los Angeles. With five studio albums under her belt, and a plethora of awards well-earned, St. Vincent is not going anywhere anytime soon. Check out her subversive frenetic pop hit “Cheerleader”, the feverish rhythm of “Pieta”, or the low intensity of “Masseduction” if you’re looking for somewhere to start.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Pride
Love in the Time of Animal Crossing
When I matched with my last girlfriend on Tinder, neither of us were quite sure how it had happened, from a logistical perspective. She was living in Los Angeles, and I was based in Berkeley for college. Both of us had our preferred locations set to 15 or 20 miles away maximum, and yet somehow, we both swiped right on each other. What followed was a kind of game in which neither of us were ever serious with the other because at the end of the day, neither of us really intended to meet up. Where would we go, Merced?
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Gamers
The Waves
The story of how Rosa came up out of the sea was old gossip by the time the girl had reached her seventeenth year. After all, it was the kind of story that was still shared around dinner tables when the conversation went stale, or in the schoolyard amongst children desperate for their own share of novelty and adventure.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Fiction
Mayfair School for Girls.
Ida fiddled with the starched collar of her uniform, wishing vaguely that she could undo just one of the buttons so that the fabric was not pulled quite as tightly around her throat. But the Mayfair Prospectus Handbook had been very specific about things of this nature. All skirts must be pleated and fall just below the knee; anything shorter would not suffice. Hair must be pulled back, either in plaits or a chignon-- messy buns or loose tendrils were for outside of class. Stockings or tights were non-negotiable, and ties must be fastened neatly around the collar, not left untied. Blazers should be freshly creased, and so on.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Fiction
Egyptian Demonology 101
What do we mean by demons? In contemporary Western society, the word demon encompasses a mess of malevolent connotations. Its invocation evokes half-baked images from "The Exorcist" or at the very least a sense of profound unease. But in Ancient Egypt, the demonic was considered in an entirely different light. So whether you're an aspiring occultist, or someone genuinely interested in the ancient cosmologies and cultures of the Near East, buckle in for a brief description of Egyptian demonology.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in FYI
Idaho Gothic
Anton slipped his hands into the soft lining of his coat, fighting back a shiver as he gazed out at the edge of the forest. The moon loomed out from behind softly gliding clouds, and the ground was thick with a layer of ice. He glanced for a moment at his watch, and the numbers 12:04 gleamed back at him.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Fiction
What the Infinite Time Loop in “Palm Springs” Can Teach us about the Current Pandemic
Let me set the scene: It won’t be hard since we’ve all been there—some cocky, smirking white boy approaches you on the day of your sister’s wedding and “accidentally” gets you embroiled in his drama. And your really can’t refuse because, as I’ve mentioned, it’s the day of your sister’s wedding (and since this is like the fourteenth month of the pandemic you’ve probably re-watched the Godfather at some point, right?), and also because as a feminine presenting person you’ve involuntarily internalized the aspects of the patriarchal system of which you are indelibly intertwined. All this is to say, you’re used to doing all manner of emotional/ existential/ theoretical physics-adjacent labor for men who think they are too cynical and cool and quirky to actually give a damn.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Geeks
Did Your Uncle Kill Your Dad Just to Usurp His Throne and Marry Your Mother, or Are You Maybe Overthinking This?
So you’re concerned that maybe your life resembles that of Hamlet, the crown prince of Denmark. Don’t worry! We’ve all been there (kind of)! Take this simple quiz to figure out just how dire these straights you’re in, are exactly. Whether you’ve been struggling with the cold-blooded murder of your father, the king, or the poetic flower-themed ravings of your recently insane girlfriend, or just trying to convince your best friend that you’re not acting weird and losing your mind when you are, we’ve got you covered.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Fiction
Humming What I Don’t Understand
“I am like a young girl in love with Mozart and must have him placed highest whatever the cost… I shall beg Mozart to forgive me because his music did not inspire me to great deeds but made a fool of me — I, who through him lost the last grain of reason I possessed, and now spend most of my time in quiet sadness humming what I do not understand, haunting like a ghost what I cannot enter into… To take him away, to efface his name, would be to overturn the only pillar that hitherto has prevented everything collapsing for me into a boundless chaos, into a fearful nothingness”.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Beat
Egon Schiele and the Art of Going Insane
So there is this painting, which you are maybe familiar with entitled, Seated Woman with Legs Drawn Up. Austrian artist and Gustav Klimt protégé, Egon Schiele painted it in 1917, two years after he had married one Edith Harms. Edith was, by all accounts, a perfectly charming woman with a perfectly respectable middle-class background. However, the sitter for Seated Woman with Legs Drawn Up is decidedly not Edith.
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in FYI
I’m the Madwoman Locked up in the Attic of Your Favorite Gothic Novel, and I Actually Don’t Really Mind It Up Here
“What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.”
By Katie Alafdal3 years ago in Fiction