the accidental martyr

what could possibly be this malleable line of accountability. when do your friends start ruining your life. when do you finally confront them, only to have their voices quiver and heighten in lieu of an apology. 'we really just didn't think about it' is the tenant of a dissolving life force. this is the second year of this accidental martyrdom. one domino that unseats half a decade of assault and deceit.

i now think of myself five years ago. bathed in the soft glow of privilege and self loathing; struggling to fit in despite a raging superiority complex and inferior intimacy complex. the intimacy has since not been solved, as i undertake another sexless 18 months. saying it makes it only subtly less true. i see myself cumming over and over atop ben's sad silent body; him tugging too tightly at my nipples, waiting for me to meekly push his hands away, waiting for me to use my words. waiting for me to tell him what i want and where i want it. it's never going to happen. i want to push it farther and farther down until i never have to say the words or feel his hands or cock again. i feel the guilt of making out with a stranger hours and even days later, and remind myself that there must be some reason for feeling this way.

when faced with a lifetime of micro and macro sexual aggressions (mainly from family + religion) repentance comes in the form of 'going wide'. satisfy a sexual urge by making sure men want to fuck you but never acquiesce and let anyone fuck you. after 18 months, carefully select a tall dark haired man to re-take your virginity and use your re-learned sexual words and phrases upon his hands and cock.

say i got potential but the kid lazy - heems

i am graduating in less than two weeks. i feel simultaneously empty and do full i am pouring over. i cannot concentrate on anything, and cannot get out of bed unless there is a punishments awaiting me. i have goals that will take years to accomplish and i don't know where to start. my good ideas mean more to others than they do to me. there is a palpable distance between me and everyone else, a distance my squaww lifestyle hasn't yet compromised. i think about someone hurting my feelings days or even weeks after the fact, even if i know they misspoke or didn't mean it or take it back. i feel alarmingly good at playing the victim; my strengths mean nothing to me, but my weaknesses define me. constantly getting in my own way, yet i dont want anyone to help me. i hate advice and i never want to be serious. yet i need someone to force me in a direction.

everyone is moving on, but i cannot focus long enough to remember any information or skills. lately, i have been forcing myself into fleeting 'gratitude adjustments', going over my insane privilege. i will never starve, i have no student loans, all of my limbs work, i am cognizant enough of my actions not to consciously hurt another person, i feel deep empathy but know when i am being taken advantage of, etc, etc.

i am currently in a flux, working part time at hip hues and thinking vaguely yet stressing intently about which jobs i should apply for. i want to cultivate my skills, seems like there isn't enough time for anything, yet i have to be good at everything all the time. be nice to everyone, be funny, say something intelligent/relevant, make art, draw everyday, write everyday, do well on that paper, don't blow off that presentation, learn css, learn html, make a new video, don't judge those closest to you just because you can. im not sure how angry to be at the state of the world. what is my anger going to do beyond making me an angry person. i am selfish for this reason.

you can will yourself to be a better person !

this week of extreme realizations started last tuesday after seeing steve roggenbuck perform at drkmttr. drk.  was a relieving purging that heightened or perhaps obliterated self awareness. was like a stand up special with heightened sense of vulnerability and care. he is big into being 'gentle' recently and was interesting to see a pronouncement of genteelness, which is of course oxymoronic . i have internalized this message of genteelness, contrasting interesting to the VRQ article about post-woundedness and the internalized misogyny that comes w the territory of being brusque or crass or insensitive as a woman. i am taking up the space in between manhood and womanhood and getting larger and larger.

off-roading or what exactly is an atv? (james mentz wants to run something by me)

last night i went to a reading and thoroughly enjoyed watching everyone shut the fuck up for an hour and listen to one person in one corner of the room. afterwards i immediately drank a bunch of wine and pretended a parasol was my penis. then everyone went to mc's tiny yellow house (?) and everyone got too high (me). it could have been the most fun ive ever had but i also felt tyrannical and times like bent on expressing myself. also i took  a cute hostage with a round face named paul and couldn't tell if he really liked me or really didn't like me. how important is it to know how someone is reacting to you? you should still say all the stuff you want to say...right? i think i sort of had a script in my head of things i wanted to say and would have said to anyone. which is something im neutral about. this mode of interacting is keeping in time to my new mantra of talking to everyone like a sad sack of fleshy tissue without regard to what sexx parts or face they have. has been good to me i think and is a fair dispersal of energy based on third party characteristics like, do you think im funny? do i think you're funny? are you kind or creative? these are the only things that matter people! i think im feeling blessed to discover this earlyish(???) since being so crippled earlier of what i look like to people and how i am coming off. i am still keenly aware of and even mildly obsessed with how i seem to others, but it is sort of a morbid curiosity as opposed to an anxiety.

i was definitely ranting but felt hyper-coherent and embarrassed the whole time. embarrassment is a form of sobriety within the psychological context of partying, and keeps you from being to bold or antagonistic. is perhaps good to feel this type of embarrassment; but, i guess reminding yourself that despite moments of greatness or comedy or artistic whatever, you are nothing! your judgment of yourself does not truly affect your output(?? (maybe it does? but how?)) making something cool and jerking yourself off about it does not mean you will make more cool things. wait until after you're dead before you pat yourself on the back. backpatting goes a short way and should not be confused with happiness. these are good things i remind myself that i think ultimately have changed the way i perceive others. there is very little 'competition' and i love women more because of it but men a little less. people just want you to ask them questions about their stupid lives! do not dwell because it will get in the way of your upcoming lobotomy! scheduled around mailing out those etsy orders. TRULY future was right, you dont have an image to maintain! if you want to be insane sometimes you are allowed to be!



was i being annoying last night? wait, don't tell me! because! if everyone needs a hug from you than you weren't that bad after all! you have $0 now but everyone feels good!

matt, i was at a party with you and didn't cry ONCE! 100 emoji

222 is the universe saying that everything will be alright!

part boy

 i have become the blanket-clad burrito i've always known i could be.
yesterday. suavage was christened with a poetry from luca ____, hannah gamble, and tj jarrett.
standast baela got some air, and i got drunk and gave all my prints away.

afterwards i chose mat and his frends over my friends. sitting at dinos, i recorded and photographed the railish man in red making burgers with bubbly melting cheese and ggrease. I wanted mat to touch me the way he sometimes does when he's had ~6+ beers. instead he didn't talk to me except to ask in a sugary sweet voice what i wanted to do after. i was contemplating crying at this point to did not respond and instead shrugged my shoulders and shook my head while tweeting about him and me and that situation.

i could feel the giddy, drunk, flush replaced with a stingy sloppy wetness, and i wanted desperately to go home. i try so hard. i want him to be happy always and i see in him what i want to be but he is adverse to seeing the same in him or me. when he is drunk and we are in a crowded room without his / my / our friends he grips my arm or leg and shispers into my ear with his mouth flat against my head and i forget that he will never love me. when we are saying goodbye i squeeze him against me for as long as i want and he knows i love him. he likes it, he has to like it.

i am cautiously accepting applications from other boys men and women around me. my feelers extending around entire bodies of people at shows or parties. i like the attention but i only feel an intense need for attn from him. lately he has looked at me longer, asked me questions in a high pitched innocent cadence as if we are both 14 yrs old and probing love between us. accidentally tells me im pretty, sometimes as a 'handsome man' despite wearing '12 lbs' of makeup




i am under the (perhaps incorrect) impression that upsetting myself with men boys and body is fodder for art or comedy

girls is the best show on television.


i want you to read this and tell me we can't be friends anymore.
should i call your phone.


wo w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w

i'm getting sad about matt

hi
i sit here when i'm digesting.


i want you to






























come in our thigh crease