addendum

more and more, i'm starting to see mainstream media, entertainment, things that look pretty, and the agents of consumption in general, as insidious tools by which our minds are numbed and drawn away from larger political injustices. i am trying to not be placated. it is important to me to not be placated. i will not be placated. be skeptical of pleasure.

indefinitely detention

how to change the world is a question that i think and self flagellate about a lot. a lot a lot.

lately i've noticed a change in my perspective which may be a function of adulthood, or upward class mobility, or perhaps both. that is - a shift in thinking about how things are terrible for myself, to thinking about how things are terrible for other people. it's amazing how much the world widens when you do so, because no matter who we are we cannot experience the entire terribleness of the world in just one body. and all of a sudden, peering into the fabric of society, you just see so many holes that need to be patched up.

it has been deeply paining to me to live in a proclaimed democratic society that is not postracial or postfeminist, that is blind to issues of class, and that undertakes authoritarian measures against people expressing their first amendment rights to assemble. simultaneously i feel the call to act, the call to do something, while being caught up in my generational fear of losing my source of income and ability to support myself and the people i love. i realize that i can't do everything at once all the time, so i persist in making changes when i can, preserving my integrity, striving towards my dream of being an artist, tending the metaphorical garden that my circumstances allow me to keep, but at the same time, feeling deeply pained by everything that is still left to solve, within and without of myself.

this is why adults are so grumpy and can't sleep at night.

things i've thought, but have not written about

the wintering in my soul, the immense capacity of life for change, the tenuousness of hope, the brightness of the future. how we got to where we are, a stopping point, a layover until some force sends us hurtling off to our next adventure.

what it means to be just, what it means to be real, what it means to be true.

occasional

lately updates to this blog have been haphazard, the reason being my interest in having my personal life on the internet has waned. this is separate from the idea of cultivating an online persona as an artist, an enterprise which i take very, very seriously. but sometimes there are still thoughts that don't fit into this mold of a joyous, working artist, which yearn to be expressed in a form less private than a diary. like how i return to cat power every few months or so, and how her voice makes me melt inside - not that soft romance novel kind of melting, but a violent, hot, viscous jolt in a place somehow inside yet deeper than my body. this woman is ridiculous, and the sound of her voice reminds me that there's something good and powerful in the world, even when we try to bury it, even when they try to bury it. sometimes i'm so caught up in daily life that i forget to visit that place that keeps us real. it takes me there.

grunge revisited

GRUNGE REVISITED by carolarola

lately, my inner self has been throwing a fit of existential proportions, and this is what it has to say:
decay! decay! the city is in a constant state of decay, robert smith's caked on runny teary makeup is all on my mind and i am resenting the parts of me that have become proper and minimal. rather than smashing things, i am resorting to materialism and moodboards as an expression of my inner being, which in itself shows how much i've -eyeroll- become part of the system, but nevertheless, it's time to bring back the grunge. and to start, i've stopped keeping track of how often i wash my hair.

the fledgling

if you must know, i've been busy learning to fly. oh, and listening to a sick amount of the cure.

work in progress

be excited. i think i've stumbled upon something g-ood.