March 2012
4 posts
hey hey, so so
I think I’ll be changing my blog url soon, and it’s hard to transfer everyone over. please askbox me if you’d like to stay in touch xx
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“I’m wearing velvet AND glitter”
– relevant
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on abuse, and being told I'm not worthwhile
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...
February 2012
16 posts
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CM PUNK
Regarding virtue: I consider Straight Edge, but decide I don’t care.
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full-time loser
stop that horse
he wears my shirt
regret remorse
o how they hurt
I knock on doors
they turn to dirt
always the beggar
never the chooser
half-clever
full-time loser
from the slumberland
that time forgot
to the wonderland
of a spineless clot
who understands
who calls the shots
you might know
it’s another user
part-time poet
full-time loser
- John Cooper Clarke
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“but…you’re not a unicorn. you totally exist.”
– this lady, talking dudes and metaphysics.
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everybody ever: "wtf? how could you cut a hole in your eyebrow while trying to trim your fringe?"
me: "I HAVE SPECIAL TALENTS."
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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.
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come help me photocopy my zine
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
A4-duplex romance.
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doctor: so, you had a positive reading on an indicator for Lupus.
me: oh, cool.
doctor: the blood tests don't tell me much else, so I'm going to refer you to an immunologist.
me: cool cool.
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!
EXPLOIT THIS
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...
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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.
bar, you are the worst. what even, tonight. CRYTOWN.
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the Cribs - you were always the one
LET’S...
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“holy wow. Jem. Jem, you got all man jaw-ed, and cast in a TV show. when’d...”
– speep, on this guy.
is it wrong that I find him more attractive than other dudes?
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January 2012
25 posts
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What Riot? →
Punk Rock Politics, Fascism, and Rock Against Racism
by Alessandro G. Moliterno // best dude I know
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Velvet Underground (and Nico) - I’ll be...
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good things, coming up
so all the moving/hysteria will quiet by the end of the week. and I’ve got words to write, stock to list and people to love. plus there’s the zine catalogue. and these dresses I have in my head. and All the Ideas. and things to glitter.
collaborate // heartbreak // yes, please
word.
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“I have really fucking logical and compelling reasons for, like, all things.”
– that time I didn’t dance
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of Montreal - the events leading up to the...
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rubbish hat guy
I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel like it.
His bow was condescending: too low to be taken very seriously, and far lower than the situation demanded. I dreamt—a moment’s inattention—that his Rubbish Hat might tumble from his Rubbish Head. I wished—another moment—that it would. I wondered—a fleeting wonder—which of them was more detestable.
He straightened, hat and head united in conspiracy. He...
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ee ugh ok
it’s coming to something I think
I don’t know what I think
a Grotesque Animal
like, nothing helped me keep up with you so I struggled forward until I saw you philosophising notions of desire.
and, with nothing, you courted me and, by-and-by, you caught up with me willingly, I dove into your fire.
but nothing like the dream of you no love helped me agree with you it made me sick to...
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part-horse, part-AWESOME
you know what I mean.
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most of what occurs to me is:
being “drunker” / “more drunk”
and
“how do words work?”
never ever ever (enough).
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forever inappropriately dressed
and, like, I’m into you in pieces and never to your face
(or rarely)
a clumsy kind of love, or of whatever.
“I got things to write.”
a clumsy kind of whatever.
a high to ride and crash on.
you were my second-fondest memory.
whatever.
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mid-moving blues. because you really do need your own room to sit around in underwear and listen to talking heads.
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hey, hi, how's your Thursday?
last night, packing seemed exciting. now I have too many books and boxes are annoying anyway and I can’t lift more than one item at a time, so what’s the point of grouping them together into containers?
I just want to watch Detective Cheekbones again (but I’m saving it for with Ale), or listen to That ‘Atmosphere’ Cover Band, and be in bed or in the sun.
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December 2011
21 posts
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