I make stuff because I can. I am creative because I create. I have no delusions of talent, or peculiar worth. I mean, I kind of think creation—itself—is worthwhile.
still, I mostly hate myself most of the time. and, some days, tumblr gets to being the voice inside my head. as a depressive cycle starts to taper off—please, fuck, taper off—nothing can stall the beginning of a manic phase (which is also fucked, but bearable) quite like targeted abuse.
no. I don’t think most of what I make is particularly good.
yes. more thought goes into most of it than what I explain in tumblr posts.
sure. maybe I should make better use of self-deprecating tags about my own patheticness.
but … should I supply complete critical justification with everything I post? I don’t think so. I don’t think most of you guys are stupid enough to need that. I don’t think most of the internet is stupid enough to need that.
I’ve seen it—abuse—happening to other people far more frequently than it happens to me (it’s really not that often). and it’s fucked. I’m sick—particularly—of hipster craft culture—or whatever—and its naive elitism.
‘I’m tons into craft and it’s totally cool. but stuff you make is shit. you can’t do that, or you’re rubbish at it. now I’m going to blog about how I’m tons into craft, and how stuff you make is shit. … because that will fulfil my participation requirement, or whatever.’
I’m more attracted to an idea of craft that is encouraging, than one that’s limiting. I am interested in facilitating people to create, engaging them, showing them that creation is an end, regardless of the objective value of what is created.
I don’t know.
I’m more into surrounding myself with things that I admire than things I don’t. I certainly don’t see the point of lurking blogs I don’t follow to find content I don’t like, so that I can reblog it … simply to be cruel.
probably, I’m weak. I’m absolutely afraid this post will open me up to further shit. whatever. fucked people are fucked and should probably fuck off. if they’re not going to, that’s their problem. this has pretty much fulfilled my participation requirement, or whatever.
I consider Straight Edge, but
decide I don’t care.
stop that horse
he wears my shirt
o how they hurt
I knock on doors
they turn to dirt
always the beggar
never the chooser
from the slumberland
that time forgot
to the wonderland
of a spineless clot
who calls the shots
you might know
it’s another user
- John Cooper Clarke
|everybody ever:||"wtf? how could you cut a hole in your eyebrow while trying to trim your fringe?"|
|me:||"I HAVE SPECIAL TALENTS."|
I’m actually kind of into The Outdoors, but I don’t really like sleeping in it for too long, so I make this ~thing~ that I’m not.
come, help me photocopy my zine
in the library.
down beside the microfilm,
replicate with me.
come, let me use your copy card?
only for this last bit.
with automatic page detect
we make a perfect fit.
come, although the toner’s low,
come, let’s take a chance
on inexact perfection and our
|doctor:||so, you had a positive reading on an indicator for Lupus.|
|doctor:||the blood tests don't tell me much else, so I'm going to refer you to an immunologist.|
|doctor:||don't worry. it might not be anything at all.|
|me:||no, cool, really. I mean, I've seen House, NOBODY EVER HAS LUPUS.|
|note:||thanks for saying nice things, you guys :-) I totally doubt it's Lupus! even if it is, immune stuff can be managed and things, so I'm not feeling bad or anything. don't worry!|
so I recently read some of a tumblr _thing_ which climaxed (for me, at least) with a young lady of the alt lit community rationalizing her decision to post nude photographs of herself (or, of her breasts, but I won’t get into Ways of Seeing here) with the claim that breasts aren’t sexual.
she argued that their perceived sexuality is purely the construction of institutionalised heteronormative gender oppression, and implied that considering them sexual is wrong.
as a straight female, I find breasts both sexual and awesome. sure, they can be used to exploit women, but only because they are so great: the problem is exploitation, not breasts. breasts are part of being a woman, part of female sexuality, and denying that—to me—denies the potential power of the female. I like the idea of gender equality, but am more convinced by equally-balanced power: I don’t want to be a man.
so I was offended by what came across as a direct—though naive—attempt to disenfranchise female sexuality in the name of feminism.
and I’ll delete this post in a bit, because I’m terrified of tumblr _things_ and of being attacked by defensive people. and because I haven’t directly engaged with the argument, so would probably be taken out of context. also: typing on my iPhone.
but it’s inspired me to develop an idea about feminist values that don’t deny female sexuality. and to start work with a talented friend on a photo series exploring it. specifically for the internet. idek, we’ll see where it takes us.
bawling my face off along to ‘Stay Free’, by the Clash, because: feelings.
this is one of the good signs.
I’m about to get so coherent.