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when i was a kid
i’d look out the car window and mow the grass
with my telekinesis
now i mow down billboards
i tire of pooping
womanhood
is something i feel powerless to give
myself
i stood on a multilevel parking garage and looked out
to see if there was anything
i felt like seeing any closer
and i saw something
so i walked back down to the street
i figured i would
keep doing that
until nothing made me curious anymore
me vale puta verga lx Ăşnicx que lee estas entradas es sg y hoy dĂa me vale gran bergas el inglĂ©s. pj harvey sacĂł un disco de demos que están de madres. en particular la rola <<i think i’m a mother» se super nota que el productor le bajĂł el volumen a todo para que fuera más radiofriendly y siempre que escuchaba esa canciĂłn en versiĂłn estudio se me hacĂa que el bajo estaba relalto. no se escucha nada. escuchar la intenciĂłn original de harvey es muah. es una diosa del rock. me sacan canas verdes su mĂşsica. wey si no te gusta que no te guste pero esa canciĂłn está culona en la versiĂłn original.
bishu está sĂşper cuero. duerme más ahora. creo que el otro dĂa tuvo un momento de lucidez en el que se dio cuenta que le gusta ser baby y ahora se deja querer. we stan. it’s hot. ojalá siga asĂ. me derrite el corazĂłn ese mono.
no aguanto vivir en los estados unidos. en serio los gringos están locos. ya me tienen harto me quiero morir. en serio no creo que los grungiest se dan cuenta lo culero que es vivir aquĂ. todo está feo. todo está pintado en blanco y las mega gasolineras y targets y taco bell. todo está feĂsimo. es una lástima. ojalá entendiesen que no se tiene que vivir asĂ. el sistema educativo es horrible. la gente está fea. la ropa es horrenda. los edificios me dan nauseas. ojalá viniese dios mismo en inundase desde florida hasta washington menos forks porque edward uwu.
estoy bien. está existencia es una verga. me quiero mudar.
i got to physically sit in for the hearing of the RNC v. travis weipert concerning the fact that mr. weipert mailed out pre filled out ballots to johnson county voters. many of the ballots have already been submitted and the rnc has attempted to make these invalid saying, if i understand correctly, that the fact that the ballots were pre filled out with voter information was a violation of personal information something something. this is particularly momentous because trump has attempted to invalidate votes from linn and johnson county, two highly populated democrat counties in a swing state. the trial is massively important, and it seems as though the judge was chosen because he ruled in favor of the rnc in the linn county trial. the defendant’s case had to rest on johnson county being entirely a different situation than linn.
i was able to sit in a trial that in a sense holds the future of america in its hands. i admire the defendant’s attorney greatly and seeing all these people so deeply invest themselves in this trial has jolted me. ive realized how unwilling i am in giving up hope for america. i deeply want to believe in the nobility of noble people. the truth stands that i am not ready for revolution nor do i want revolution. ive lived through violence in the drug wars and i don’t think that most revolutionaries understand fear. i think it’s a very human feeling to seek comfort. i think it’s walden that talks for eighty goddamn pages in the first chapter about humans seeking warmth. i’m not blaming myself for not being thrilled about revolution.
for the past three years i have embraced the aesthetics of anti establishment while doing absolutely nothing about it. i think the optics of it made people think i was more active than i was and more revolutionary than i was because i lived so many separate lives that i could pretend each life my friends did not have access to was more exciting than the one they were a part of. and i play up that dynamic. it stems from a deep wish for that to be true. i block off any boring bits of my life and replace them with better things and internalize them to the point where i no longer have any idea what is true in my life. i am not changing that about myself.
however, being in isolation where my domestic life with my boyfriend, work and cat are my only life, i’ve been confronted by how little change my life has had. i may not have the aesthetics of revolution anymore but i think it is high tide for me to figure out what true impact and real action i can take. that is not for me to discuss here, that is my own plan to enact.
shallowness will not do for this next step.
i bought a bunch of plants and accidentally made my piano area look like a 90s mall with the mannequins. hopefully the horse skull will make it less inviting.
i’m tired of the buzzcut. i want my hair back.
otherwise life is good, this place is starting to feel more like the two of us and we’ve been able to converge on an aesthetic that feels like home to both of us. compromise is hard. it’s not that being in a relationship has been particularly difficult. everything seems very natural. still, it takes concerted emotional effort. making your living space scream the chic girl your boyfriend is along with being the hostile i feel something staring at me kind of space i like feels like a monument to maturity. it feels accomplished. married life is neutral in terms of wonderful or horrible, but having someone you love to sleep next to every day is lovely. i hope we die together. if we break up i am never being in a relationship again though i miss smoking.
i told people at work that i use contacts. i don’t know why i did that. it literally would’ve made zero difference telling the truth, and now i have to stick to it cause how are you supposed to explain that you lied about that because you felt like it.
hello bliss? is that you? could it be i have fixed myself and am now the horrible person i was meant to be? why yes
and you may ask how i did it?
i have become a marykay girl. i know. it seems cliché. every preacher’s wife does. almost as if a theology school degree is only useful if you’re a man. however i have made it. i am here to tell you i have the pearly pink corola and you can too u fuckin wu.
i know it’s all covid times but we can meet through skype and you can pretend to use the lipstick and say it stays on through nearly half a scone this time :0. they’ve done something with the formula. and that smell. lavender. it opens up your head chakra.
this is syncretism i hate it. shut up you pagan. go throw yourself away.
come. sit with me. you and me don’t eat sweets anymore. or milk. it’s disgusting.
come. i have a goodie bag for you. timewise gentle exfoliating non oily cleansing oil. i love you. we do have a good time together. do you mind if i put my hand on your thigh? we’ll both take a shower later. it won’t spread covid if we just shower together.
i’m sorry for making you read that. i am fine. life is boring and i hate it and i’m bald. go set yourself on fire . go piss yourself just do it in my house i miss you :,(
hi hello it’s me back here to complain uwu. kisses let’s begin.
i am incredibly and deeply depressed. not suicidal, just my life has been flattened out and i’m absolutely not excited for any of it, and the longer quarantine goes, the more filled with despair i get. i make music as soundtracks to things i want to do. i make them with specific intent and with visions in mind about what kind of trouble i can get myself into, what kind of trouble i can get my friends into. i try not to make it dangerous out of consideration for my friends and out of fear of pain and mutilation for myself. music was the thing that was keeping me afloat but with the ambition of, as soon as this shit’s over, this motherfucking shit’s going to be the ticket to some good times. booking shows at bars and dragging my friends along, celebrations, making videos for promo and stupid little music videos or serious little music videos depending on how hot i feel, altering my appearance, shopping for costumes and art designing, rigging lighting, location scouting, setting pr packages to record labels and radio stations who’ll never write back. all of that shit’s gone. i have no friends here, i can’t drag anyone along. i had people to do shit with and who i wanted to take along with me into my bright shiny future. now even when this shit’s over, even if i have an album released, what am i going to do? film promos shirtless that make my friends uncomfortable so they won’t watch or like them cause they have no memories of how stupid and uncomfortable filming hot shit is? film a bunch of music videos where literally i am the only thing in them or have friends send shitty videos of themselves. i don’t want that particularly. i’m not an one for grunge. i mean to prove to the world that i am worth being trusted with expensive equipment.
so i postpone making music. i go to work, i go home, i watch legend of korra, i eat too much and skip leg day, run til my knees hurt, go to bed, and then wake up. kyle is wonderful, and it helps and hurts that we’re going through the same thing. i certainly wouldn’t willfully go without him, he makes me incredibly happy, but i am the only one who can make me incredibly fulfilled.
i am attempting to find things that aren’t dangerous and don’t involve other people. that is requiring imagination and so far i have nil. by order of the court, this useless funk ends today, i don’t care what it takes. this is banal. i am not banal unless forced to be.
i think i want to put some serious effort into becoming a better person. i don’t actually want to and i absolutely don’t have to but maybe it’s that time of day.
[REDACTED]
this is honestly such a bad idea for me. that was horribly embarrassing to read.
this song has been putting me in a fucking great mood
there is pop punk which is there and is there, but i think punk is pop now. the people who excite me for now unhinged beyond even what was possible during the height of punk, as i’ve been thinking of them, are pop. poppy’s “BLOODMONEY”, sega bodega “daddy,” SOPHIE’s “faceshopping,” arca “non-binary”, shygirl “uckers.” joey labeija “unavailable” are all really fantastic examples. i want to include lil darkie and death grips on this list but they’re more hip hop than pop and therefore break up this pretty little thought i’m having, so they are not valid. god and i hate when i have to talk like this. look what you made me do. to be an sjw about it, there are some things that we can extrapolate from this list. firstly most are women, second most of them are queer, lastly there’s a massive portion that are trans women. trans women in particular have a history with being on the cutting edge of synth pop. wendy carlos, sophie, arca, zoe blade. post lastly a decent chunk are POC.
i’m not advocating for these to be added to rock. rock has changed, maybe these are the new iteration, but more importantly who gives a fuck about rock. it really was great. but this idea of lineage in music makes itself for a point of pride that allows for some extremely derivative shit. to use a horrible example that offends me, i’ve seen so many people shit on the simplicity and predictability of the fine line over more “ingenious” productions like harry style’s debut album. i loved the debut album, HOWEEEEVER, that music isn’t necessarily ingenious. it just has heritage. nothing is particularly new at fucking all about it, but we value reference over ingenuity. the veronicas have contributed more to rock music than harry styles. gucci, please dress me, but those kinds of arguments piss me off. i really enjoyed watching the interview harry styles did regarding the fine line and how much he let go in order to write the album. he let himself go back to pop. which is the golden ticket because it is both more sellable and where more interesting music is heading. what pop has done, however is take itself and completely warp itself into something that’s still pop but not popular. that’s horribly punk. i am incredibly excited for the absolute forward pushing edge pop artists have been injecting pop with.
i made a playlist to illustrate this principle
i’m real sorry mommy that i made fun of indie. whose actual self is indie though? isn’t it just the music we put on when we’re in a group of friends to seem cool but also not be horribly off putting?
shut the fuck up antonio
i went to work today. life becomes really boring when you do that. takes up a lot of my time to do antonio things. i surely didn’t mean to unbecome a fuck up, daddy. anyway this song is good
god i want to be in a better mood. i was in a better mood when people just let me do my shit. i fucking suck.
how do people raise kids in the time after work? i’m never home. my cat gets me for like 3 hrs a day. maybe it was a good idea to study creative writing. maybe i’ll end up writing a novel between office work.
i want to be happy. i really do. i’m actually capable of it now, as it turns out getting older it gets easier to figure out how to make yourself happy. if only there were the time. ive paid into option 3 at work in hopes of like a light battle wound, getting sent home and them paying for me until i am 65. i wonder what the perfect injury would be. i want to be able to bathe myself and play guitar.
ive been watching a lot of cringe comps of 2012 youtubers trying to be funny, and ive determined that their jokes were never that funny. i just enjoyed watching them try to be funny because i genuinely cared about their life and liked to watch them have fun. hi, my name is whatever, and i am still a sucker for a 2012 mustache. this is my gabbie hannah apologĂa. i’m glad hipster died though. indie is boring. like so fucking boring. this is why christians liked it cause they’re florid shades of beige. playing a banjo in a forest with mediocre vocals layered in fucking unison is not an emotion i am capable of. put a colored light, a chorus pedal and a cheap 808 in the background and it’s still the same baby puke smell of a genre. the good ones had the decency to go full skunk waffle crust punk. the rest i have killed off one by one and fed them to their mothers for making them listen to too much joni mitchell.
i started a job yesterday. it is a job. i’m glad to be home.
goodnight.
last night i got to zoom w/stephanie and sg. it was really lovely. kyle and me made tamales most of the time which honestly gave me something to do with my hands since my phone was busy. i talked a lot. i always seem to do that. i thought what i was saying was most interesting.
tomorrow i start my new job. i still have no clue what i’m going to be doing, so hopefully it’s like super fuckin rad and i have so much fun everyday and we’ll be like a mf family uwu. go there keep my head down, come home put on some baby blue crushed velvet culottes and eyeliner and go about my own shit. i’ve gotten a nice amount of time to be able to be myself once more, i can just like put that bitch back in my back pocket until my next insta post.
today, however, will be a good day. i had an idea for a photoshoot looking through my window, and i have already found my social security card so i believe i am what you call beautiful and extraordinary.
i feel like rat bastard garbage today. my house is a mess and i fucking stink which is making me nauseous. i’m making tamales later so hopefully the nausea goes away before then. i hate myself. i’m going to soak in an epsom salt bath and hope that pulls the alcohol out of my system. i do remember dancing to real thing by tuneyards with my cat yesterday so hopefully he had fun.
i was going to wait until after quarantine to cut back on alcohol and caffeine but this shit’s going on forever so maybe i need to find alternate coping mechanisms. i don’t know what i’m going to do in the winter exercise wise. i hate winter. it’s a season of people forcing you to overeat. everybody makes goddamn sweets and people expect me to be nicer when i’m cuddly. it’s deplorable. i want to be uncomfortable to sit on.
is axiom’s end...horny??
xo tour llif3 is one of the best songs of the past decade. the crunchy spacey music production really brings forward the trap beat and that paired with the lightning motifs in the music video, directed by none other than virgil abloh, current head of louis vuitton and off-white, uuuugh. whenever someone comes at me with mUmmBlE RaP iS GaaRbAGe i’m like come here sheeple let’s watch a thing. i would tie a baby to a rocket and launch it into space before i forget that music video. i want more songs like that from uzi. i’m trying to find them but so far it’s just money fame and game and i have none of those. i will try again.
i seem to have texted some of that as a response to my friend al sending me a poem. i think my brain found some relevance. i think i just wanted to talk about it.
i got very drunk, i hate alcohol, but i can’t stop drinking it. i feel like someone took a leak in my spinal cord.
fuck you if you try to control how i spend my time. i am incredibly good at telling myself what to do. i don’t need you. i am so disappointed with how you use my time. i aaaaaaaam flourishing.
go bite your asshole. you don’t know what i want. <3
i’m trying to set my base tone for who i want to be the be the next couple years. ive been sitting on the curb trying to recalibrate my brain slowly to make being a chill person my main personality trait. i don’t think that’s going to be fully realized until i have my hair back. i think you’re meant to not flex your stomach while having sex and maybe that’s why i can’t bottom, but how else am i meant to have abs during sex. ive lied to plenty of people and said it just won’t go in when really i couldn’t be fucked to douche. i think that’s what chill people do.
anyway i have to pee.
i feel indestructibly weird. i’m dressed like i fuckin smell and have the most hostile amount of eyeliner on. i look awful. i have a beard. i have a buzzcut. i fuckin smell bad. i’m playing angry music. the purest thing i’m doing is smoking essential oils because it took so damn long to get past the bad skin part of quitting smoking that i don’t wanna be doing that shit again, but overall, i am filthy and i am for no one. i am the kind of disgusting it takes days to be. it’s some deep set funk. my pubes could kill a spider. this is euphoria.
i think i’m going to fake my death and just live like this.
this whole move to iowa has felt incredibly unceremonious. let’s be honest i wasn’t ever going to get the parade ridden drunken cry frenzy i wanted it to be because i’d probably be too lazy to organize things. i’m incredibly grateful to have gotten to say goodbye to s.g. and stephanie. story wise i wanted to be done with this album i’m writing which is, in essence, about how deeply i care for s.g., and be able to present it to them on a cd-rom like a mixtape i’d made for them. it was going to be so tender.
i think we undervalue friendship. i know i sound like that kid who had an unnecessary obsession with adrian not having any other friends but me, but liking girls so i knew it wasn’t gay. in my adult brain i can see that sg needs things i can’t give and i need things they can’t give me, but those months of finishing each other’s sentences. i don’t think i’ve ever been more fascinated with someone’s personality. what i’m saying is that going from
to
friends
to
hurts?? stephanie says we should all get old and buy a house golden girls style, and i don’t think i’ll ever be that lucky, but i hope i am. i think i will go on with that dream in my back pocket for when this whole game shit’s over and done.
the incessant work has caught up with me. the last time i had a vacation was for a beautiful but incredibly stressful wedding. i can’t stop sleeping and this is the time to work on my own terms, and if i were smart at all i would come
out of this time
and maybe be famous. at least have some work to show. i’m tired and un-passionate. fuck it. i’ll do what i want when i want it. this is mine. this is the only thing that’s mine.
i’m good. i’m alright. this is how i set myself free.
—rapado
te veo violador no violado
más te vale. más vale ojo que corazón.
que no te quiten lo dulce
pero, te digo, si algĂşn dĂa te encuentras en apuros
arranca el oĂdo a lupe, que con pegamento se adhiere. en fin es un favor, nadie le cuestionará el lifting. si se queda quieto, arráncale los dos—.
—¿me ves beta?— le dije.
—violencia inteligente es el don que imparto a quienes cojo—.
volverĂ© a la violencia algĂşn dĂa.
era sangre, soy sangrĂa.