this one is an good old fashioned Anti-Rambles: short, sweet, and all over the place. enjoy!
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i hung out with D---k today. i thought it was great. i think i needed it. i was anxious and a little miserable the whole day, and i never really fully snapped out of it, but he put things into perspective for me. he always has a way of doing that somehow, even when we were in high school. he would tell you that he is yet to get his shit together, but he seems lightyears ahead of me at least. i felt so out of step with him. i'm bookish and hesitant to the point of agoraphobia while he goes for things with the devotion of a priest but still carefree (how COVID comes into play is another story, however). he also absolutely rips on the guitar, which he told me all about. he's gonna teach me how to do the same. i was so apologetic to him as it was, but if i were to come out to him and say how i felt like that straight up, he would tell me something just as reassuring as he did with everything else. i probably came off very restrained and unconfident. describing the last year made me sound depressed, but he didn't even have to think about meeting me with understanding. he got it, and there wasn't anything i should worry about for him. he always has stories to tell me, full stories that sternly begin and end with incredible characters with interesting lives and cool talents. on the drive home, i compared them to how my stories are all failed premises. i know you like that, but i don't like how they feel incomplete. he's never one to brag. he wears what he thinks are his flaws on his sleeves. he invites anyone who admits to the same to come along him in getting better. he is so fucking cool.
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d*flower posted this thing about punk rock and alt aesthetics which i have parroted in some fashion to you in the past. you know, it's all commodity and/or being commodified and blah, blah, blah. capitalist realism. it's being the subject of many of my rambles to you. anyway, for some reason after i read it, i felt stupid for caring about punk and music and stuff as much i do. i know that wasn't really the point of the spiel, but the conclusion i came to was that it was very stupid and SOYJACK STAR WARS IFLSCIENCE (!!!) of me to care a whole lot about Les Rallizes Dénudés, like the whole thing is a huge embarrassing waste of time. i know you think that i shouldn't even begin to think like that, and anyone else in their right mind would tell me the same, but i just am very fucking sensitive today.
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one of the antimasker people i follow posted some shit about his disgusting manipulative fucking pedophile father telling him some shit that, for very understandable reasons, drove him over the edge. i won't go into detail because this is more or less a public forum, and it should be private information. anyway, i honestly don't like to label him as merely an antimasker, because - though it's pretty core to his worldview - he shouldn't be reduced to it knowing his background. it doesn't give him a right to be irresponsible, but knowing the kind of hell the authorities in his life has subjugated him to, you have to understand him at the very fucking least. i wish him the best, whatever that means for him.
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i swear i'm not all that emo these days, though i still have doubts. i think i'm doing pretty good, and i think i'm gonna get even better.
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i feel like i have nothing to say in general. i've gone back on a lot of my opinions, which i don't think is the worst thing. i think it's cool of me to be able to be able to be cool with not really knowing a whole lot and just listen to others who do. at the same time, i feel like the world moves to fast for one to just take it slow and figure it out. i feel i want to say something - no, ought to say something, now that everything happens all at once. i've always wanted to be this grand social satirist, but i'm better off knowing what the hell there is to satirize before i go for it. but, i can't help but feel like this attitude is just another clever excuse to sell myself short.
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A---- called C---- my "childhood abuser" today, which i didn't like. i'm still not cool with the idea that i was abused. it's just so fucking extreme. like, we're busting out the A-word for someone being a dick to me for a couple of years? did i dial the wrong number? are the paramedics here for a bandaid on a scrape?
i know: blah, blah, blah, it's denial. but maybe i don't need "abuse" to describe it for me. also, why even bother thinking about it at this point? i buried the hatchet with her. it's been like almost two years. it's high time to move on. we got way bigger fish to fry, but they're not as pleasurably time-wasting as another person.
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i feel like it is really easy to take advantage of me.
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if i ever wrote a book or a movie or something, i think i'd probably write something too gross in parts to in good faith show my parents, but they'd probably still at least attempt to power through it against my wishes. after all, this is the kind of project that was foretold i would undergo eventually. i hope my dad would find the funny parts funny. i would write them with him in mind. i wonder if they would wonder about where i came up with any of this stuff. i always imagine my mom correctly guessing who my self-insert is, no matter how much i tried to hide it from the layman. i hope they wouldn't worry too much if they thought it was crazy upsetting, which would probably be by design. again, in that case, i hope they wouldn't read it. but at the very least, i hope they would understand me better.
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i am afraid any image of me would look incredibly goofy on Tinder, assuming everyone in my city has an opinion about me somehow having known me all my life which would obviously be negative. saying that aloud makes it sound silly.
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i have largely stopped paying attention to politics. maybe that's a good thing. i keep an eye out on the big important stuff, like what's going on with residential schools, but i haven't got involved. i'm not on the ground at the food banks or rallies or soup kitchens or protests or anything like that. i'm a total armchair. that is definitely not a good thing.
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i try to keep everyone in mind.
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i think i feel like i watch the world more than i feel like i'm a part of it. as embarassing as it is to put into words, you could look at it like the world is almost like more books and records, it is something i can only observe. people tell their stories through me. i see myself as an archivist of everything and everyone. there's perks to that, but i think i reduce myself to a spectator and that's not a good thing. that's not living, man. i am just as much a person as everyone else is. i have to keep telling myself that.
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i hope how neurotic i can be isn't all that out of the ordinary. i hope it's juet growing pains and not something more serious.
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i feel very confused generally. i don't know what to think. i know what is wrong, but i don't know what is right. i know this is just the price of admission to knowing anything at all. i just hope the mistakes i will or am making aren't too big.
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steal whatever you want from me. i take it as a high compliment. it validates the entire point of this or at least what i think that is.
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my favourite two posts i have made is Iraq is the Harvard of terrorism, part 1 & 2. i felt really good about myself after i wrote all those poems, like i had just used most of my brain. i should really, really do more of that.
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i saw this bee fly into a fire pit and get burned alive.
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the title of this came from a bit about DaBaby i had with M--, but i liked it too much to forget about it. it is weird and goofy, but i think it says something else that i don't understand yet.
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i hate the mall.
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i don't understand Alberta's relationship with Australia.
