oldshit written december 14th 2024
see the city in the south
see a thousand smoke stacks, standing
tall against ember skies, now with ceilings.
so gray, our children will think
smog is what raises the clouds.
/
we may never see blue again,
only crayon wax and the heart of fire
fed with hate; we choke in the hot-breath throat of the earth
and we'll call the heat the glow of hell
but our children will call it home.
print('hello world')
i'll walk you through my last few days. sunday, a customer drops glass and it shatters. that happens all the time, no biggie, whatever. they pick up the glass, leaving the small shards on the floor, and bring it over to me. in an effort to follow the safety protocol i am telling them please to drop it because i am getting a broom.
they ask me "can i put it in your garbage right there?" i say no, please drop it on the floor because i am getting a broom and i do not want them to cut themselves. they say "i'm going to go put it outside on the ground" and i say please drop it because i am getting a broom and i do not want them to cut themselves. they start to leave for the door and i am questioning if i am hallucinating speaking out loud right now and i say please please drop it because i am getting a broom. they reach out, grab my hands, and put the glass in my hands.
monday, a customer drops a glass and it shatters. that happens all the time. i tell her please do not pick it up because i am getting a broom. she picks it up anyways. i say please drop it because i am getting a broom and i do not want her to cut herself. i repeat this three to five times. she continues to hold the glass and eventually does cut herself. i tell her i will get her a bandaid and disinfectant wipe, and she refuses it. i insist, she refuses, i insist once more and she licks the blood off of her fingers. with the same hand, now slick with spit and still red, she hands me a 20 dollar bill for her purchase.
tuesday, a customer drops a glass and it shatters. this happens all the time. i tell him, and his wife, please do not pick it up as i am getting a broom. i watch him bend over, and repeat once more please sir i am getting a broom. i do not want him to cut himself. his wife stares at me as he picks up the broken fragments and i tell him please sir drop it because i am getting a broom and i do not want him to cut himself. he, in accordance to this new fun pattern, cuts himself. i insist on getting him a bandaid and he refuses, i insist once more, and he holds a napkin from his pocket against his hand. he refuses as blood drips onto the floor, and stands beside me with his wife staring as i disinfect and clean his blood off the ground.
i spent the better part of my life feeling like an imaginary friend floating around all the live people. this had been fine. the cons maybe are disconnection, but the pros are being able to experience life without ever truly engaging in it. i used to script almost everything. communication is a formula, you learn when to laugh and when to stay silent, when to nod, when to comment for effect, when to look at your hands and when to look at the whites in their eyes to avoid confronting their pupils, when to ask questions that sound just interested enough without being intrusive. i actually think i come off to most people as incredibly expressive, which is my intent. it's much easier to recreate these things if they are over-expressed. so you go, do that for 6-8 hours, cut the act down by maybe 15-20% for the people you love because they do deserve some kind of authenticity, and then at home dissipate into thin air and respawn the next day once the light reflects off of you into someone elses eyes once more. this hid the autism and delusional paranoia for the better part of 20 years. again, this had been fine.
my auto-pilot has depended on the real social connection of other people. i can respond to their words and their mannerisms and adjust myself accordingly based on expression feed back. but in the new era of communication everyone seems to be just as checked out as me, which has required me to check back in, and that has been a fucking disaster. it kind of feels like middle school all over again. i do not know how to communicate in a way where what i say seems important or true or understandable, and whats worse is i can no longer see that in a lot of the people around me either. especially at work. most people no longer follow the social formulas anymore. the beginning of a meet is often where i get most of my "data" and lets me understand how to treat each person, i see their tones and expressions and their communicating speed and the amount of eye contact they enjoy holding. but oftentimes now people will just launch into talking at me about the most random number of topics for minutes at a time without even saying hello. sometimes people will not look at me, be on a phone call, but then become upset if i remain quiet. sometimes i will tell customers upwards of 5 times "please do not pick up the glass" and they will give me this vapid heavy led look and then proceed to cut themselves and bleed on the floor. growing up i always believed maybe the rest of the world had some sort of secret club without me, like they could all read eachothers thoughts. now it feels like people do not have thoughts, and instead are all running on some randomized code. i hated when we called people "npcs" because it seemed so dehumanizing but increasingly i've lost any better word to describe it. i don't know.
my working theory is a healthy mix of malnutrition and ai. its become increasingly difficult to access healthy, real, unprocessed food. i don't think i know anybody without some kind of vitamin deficiency. especially now that "health nut" means injecting yourself with peptides and game-like calorie counting.
but more than that, i think people are often having more one-sided company than anything else. ai is the obvious one, but even streaming, automated customer service, voicemails, emails, posting comments that you will probably never reflect on or see again. we've put an electronic barrier in between everything and nobody knows how to interact face to face. online has become the real world and the real world has become the rest of the day. even the lack of customization of our online expression; the slow transition from websites, profiles and avatars where you could change anything you could code to cookie-cutter social media pages and website templates . i do remember a time when the internet felt like the wild west. now it feels more like a like a bad convention. and real life feels like the train ride home alone.
this is depressing again. that really wasn't like the goal of this blog. in good news i've been going through free coding lessons in an effort to gain some kind of autonomy back. im hoping in the future i can transfer this blog from this host to an independent website. i wanna have control. i want a perfect body i want a perfect soul ok im sorry
halloween is next week 0.o i'm going as jesse pinkman and luigi at work. my big costume hopefully will be the in utero angel, and if get depressed before i can finish it i will just be an angel as its usually my go-to. maybe ill paint a bunch of eyes on my face to jazz it up. what are you going as?
answer = input('where are we going from here?')
\o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/
song: decode - paramore
smell: warm bulb - clue perfumery
affirmation: i'm alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic! i'm alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic! i'm alive, awake, alert, i'm alert, awake, alive, i'm alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic!!!!!!!1111
oldshit written november 30th 2024
and so what? if this
heartsize swells with
the rush of the wind?
so what if i would, gladly,
love to death. sue me.
the world would choke
without air. i have
these eyes to flood,
these lips to scream,
these limbs to thrash
and throw. teeth to chip
and room to grow.
what won't you deny?
cutting carbs or holding
your tongue like you aren't
born to speak, and to eat.
a martyr without a cause
is just someone dead
but pain is proof that love
was there. will you die,
or won't you live?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hello computer. its 12:09 at the time of writing. i am listening to duster , ive had a weed mtn dew and im crying over how much i miss my cat. ive already hit the 20 minute mark.
recently my family made a pretty sudden move. i didn't go with them. i'm still i think trying to catch up to how quickly everything in my life has changed. 4 months blew by before i realized. time goes so fast recently i've only realized a full week had passed today because it reached tuesday again, when that felt like only yesterday. but also. every time i think about the last 6 months of my life i start to cry in a way i cant really control or stop. so maybe the depersonalization has been a blessing. i really hate crying mostly because it gives me headaches and its just kind of inconvenient . and i've never understood "crying something out." i have cried for hours before. i have cried all night. every time ive stopped crying is because i had to consciously need to decide to stop crying. i think i've probably cried for weeks worth of my life. maybe i've cried a whole year by now. and especially with my sinuses. i become a snot faucet. its actually kind of disgusting. before covid i never realized how much snot we actually have in our bodies. and now its like to the point of what the fuck. i'm starting to reconsider the idea of bodily humors. maybe i am dispelling of all my phlegms and i will come out of this a social forgiving creature. or maybe i just need to quit smoking. but anyway. usual privileged and tortured spiel. blah i hate my life blah nothing is how i pictured it blah how could it have all gone so wrong?????????????? and scene.
but i miss my kitty. she moved in about 10 years ago, a big purple collar on a little baby kitty. she loves cheese, dancing, incense, phil ochs. we have to hide the olive oil because she licks the lids of everything. she's almost died twice and both times came back completely fine. we think she has anxious tics. i used to joke that my mom grew us out of the same flower patch in our garden. and it feels really weird to not have her around, or the dog, or any animal really.
i've always had animals in the house since before i can remember, growing up with an animal lover mother (at one point we had paintings and tapestries of wolves as some of the only art up in the house). originally two dogs until i begged my parents for our first cat and suddenly it was 4 cats, 5 fish, 1 more dog, and a tamagotchi later. the first cat, lily, was a gray skittish baby from the shelter who hated men. she was my best friend and sometimes my mom and is who trained my current cat on how to be my new bff when she passed. so being alone was never really alone because there was always some little fella staring at you watching tv or chasing a tinfoil ball around. when i walk in most days home from work the first thing i notice is the absence of them waiting by the door. especially since nobody's ever really home much anymore. its very quiet here.
i do really hope she likes the new house. i hope there is lots of room to run around and big windows to watch bugs fly by. and i hope the sunrays hit though them onto all the best spots on the furniture. i hope they leave all the lids out. i hope she is not too stressed because i am gone but i hope maybe she is thinking of me in her own cat kind of way. i'm not sure when i will see her again but i'm trying to assure myself that it has to be soon. halloween without my black cat is blasphemous .
thank you for listening . sorry for killing tha vibe. meow :pc
hello computer :p
it's been a struggle to come back to writing after a year and a half hiatus. i would't even technically consider myself back to it. i'm mostly just shallowly nostalgic for early internet culture and realized recently that i have become, for lack of a better word, kind of fucking stupid. so this is my brain exercise to keep me literate when all i seem to be reading lately is reel captions and prices on a cash register.
i read a 27 page declassified cia document about telekinesis and meditation techniques the other night and only got 4 hours of sleep for work so maybe i can give myself a little credit. what is it about the late late night / early early day that is so addictive. i am unmedicated adhd until the hours of 2-4am every night, then suddenly i am a scholar and a sauvant on a fuck ton of adderall. and then the second the sun really rises i am yawning like a baby. like the light triggers my brain to sleep. wtf even is that? sometimes i wish i was a vampire and then i just have an excuse to be like that. instead humans are expected to follow one sleep schedule and smile and look awake and then die. as if.
have been doing social study. every time i go to work without makeup on someone tells me i look sick or tired. at first i just thought it was a coincidence, or maybe the fact i am quite often sick and fckin tired, but even on days i felt great and masc realness i would get a comment. i started keeping track and genuinely it has been every single time without fail for maybe 2 months. i cannot tell if i look genuinely sickly or if everyones being slightly rude asf. i've always kinda known im a lil ugly, which i enjoy because really truly beautiful people are kind of uncanny valley for me. but i really don't think i've looked fucking sick every time. i've been trying to take it as a compliment to my makeup skillz because i did not slave away to overcomplicated makeup tutorials in the 9th grade for nothing. and i wil never get the braincells i burned watching jeffree star back ever again. sometimes i feel burdened by it because truth be told in customer service people are rude as fuck if you are not pretty. i get treated pretty differently with makeup then i do without. in a perfect world i wouldnt have to smear shit on my face every day to be treated normally 0.o. especially with dysphoria, as much as i do often enjoy presenting more feminine and doing my makeup and all that jazz. but it does feel like another uniform. despite that its still comforting to have access to two faces sometimes. one i can keep to myself and one i can give to others.
live blog update!! this just in i can hear the train going by
been watching a lot of vanderpump rules and it honestly pisses me off enough i forget about my actual Horrors and Hauntings. realizing i cannot watch tv shows unless everyone is a terrible person otherwise i feel too bad when bad things happen to them that i get stressed in my real life. i probably spent more time taking mental health breaks from breaking bad than i spent watching the show.
i think thats all ive got okie byyeeee o-[0 uuu 0]-o
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
song: who am i going to share all of this wine with? - the garden
smell: amaretto in the melting room - toskovat'
affirmation: i am spiritually 6'5
i don't really think i can warn you :3
goodmorning internet. what about me. wasn't late to work today tfg. i work the kind of job where you love it to death and by that i mean you want to really really kind of die doing it. aka retail. i walked around the aisles mid-shift to clean out the prayer cards hidden in the bookshelves (becoming slightly more of a task recently, the sneaky bastards) and found myself kind of in awe of the advertising achievements of man. i held in my hand, this time, a TACO TRIVIA fact card with 5 multi-choice questions, with the answers on the back. the fifth question struck me as odd because it lacked choices.
5. what do you and all people who like tacos have in common?
flip the card.
Answer: death
and then it launches into the "what happens after death? the bible says... " speech for the rest of the card and the paragraph is pulled right to its edges. at this point you can't help but be almost more impressed than disturbed. i can't imagine fake trivia tempts folks to the kingdom of god much. if anything it just made me hungry.
religious pamphlets i think were what initially got me into zines. i first came into contact with one in the first or second grade. a close friend of mine, one winter morning on the school bus, handed me a small paper booklet with shaking fingers. her church had advised her to give them to people she loved and believed needed guidance. at the time i took it (and honestly i believe she gave it) as a total compliment, like being initiated into a secret club with free comics. since then i've always had a bit of a fascination with them, the weirder the better. i need to figure out a better way to organize my collection, as they are all kind of scattered on my desks and shelves lolol. but the imagery on some of it is incredible, and often hand drawn. i enjoy the cartoon depictions of angels and heaven the most, or the strange existential ones.
one of my favourites, i found the same day as TACO TRIVIA, was bright orange with the monopoly man. in big black letters it said GET OUT OF HELL FREE. i do hope the original distributor of the cards (who we never found, which drives me crazy considering the last card appeared behind me suddenly) maybe feels in his heart that somewhere near or far his propaganda is resonating with the aesthetics of a queer hipster.
rocking a record-breaking 76% human today. had really great creamy chicken ramen and bummed 2 cigs off coworkers. world annihilation on account of me leaving my redbull at work and my jeans getting soggy in the rain
that is all for me right now xxxxx o-[0 uuu 0]-o
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
song: play dead, tim simenon remix - bjork and david arnold
smell: dirty rice - BORNTOSTANDOUT
affirmation: i exist between types of reality and am not comprehensible to human eyes
