4:22 p.m. 12/17/12

revelation

4:22 p.m., 12/17/12

So, recently I’ve finally uncovered the secret behind my unholy need to go against things that I should probably just stick with. To be straight-forward, it actually wasn’t a secret, I was just a bit bewildered by myself, I didn’t like it. There is a scale, or a balance in myself. A psychological one that is of course abstract, but if put into a more physical representation, I think it would be easier to explain. One side of the balance is tipped and weighted down by the various outside intrusions and influences on my inner self, which acts as a catalyst for my brain or whatever that controls me to develop a I guess solution to this problem. The outside influence isn’t always a problem, but my mind still reacts to it. After finding the correct antidote, it proceeds to inject the vaccine into myself, changing, replacing, destroying whatever needs to be. The final result is I’m healed, my body finds balance. Homeostasis I guess. But as most people know, my core self embodies selfishness, so it doesn’t care what the balance and satisfaction of itself does to the outside world and appearance of me, Daniel. So even though I feel fine inside, the reactant towards the influence is off, not something normal, very odd. Complicate, complicate, complicate. <—Something like that is the default cross-effect product if something goes wary on the trip to the outside world. So now the scale is balanced with my weird weight on one side and the outside influence on the other. After this is done, or maybe simultaneously, the mind switches to the other end of the spectrum of whatever a normal me, a normal person would adapt to. This could be critically fatal if truly expressed to an outside society, but with my limiters, I can dilute my thoughts down so its more acceptable for things to flow and enter the polluted atmosphere. An example would prove prudent I think, since my text is too abstract and grammatically wrong for myself to read later if I were to. Say I am, or you are, at church! -shudder-a truly suffocating place. Imagine the atmosphere and vibe of that place….conservative, “holy”, restricted..where would a normal person’s mind go? Well of course I don’t think a normal person would just simply go to all the negative aspects of the place instantly, so it kinda ends there with the person adapting and simply being nice, “christian-y”, stuff. (To stop this before it becomes too prejudice, I’d like to say that I don’t agree with grouping such huge denominations into one general idea. What exactly does “normal people” apply to? I don’t know, but it is just for the sake of this extended example, so I apologize for my close-mindedness.) For me, in the presence of all this my mind wanders to things that would make the people around me cringe, I think of gore, blood, deep cuts into thin arms that yield fountains of a vampires satisfaction. I think of incisions into a person’s back, exposing bone and flesh that pulse with blood vessels, screaming to explode, and I smile while doing these things, a sickening smile, but I’m having fun reveling in the nasty things of this world while everyone celebrates an amazing god….Example done!! Haha that was extremely long, but I hope this serves as a good explanation for whatever I need this for.

4:45 p.m., 12/17/12

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11:47 p.m., 12/13/12

thoughts recently

11:47 p.m., 12/13/12

I guess this’ll be my digital diary from now on. Typing is much faster, although it has an artificial rust to it, I think it will be practical. So..i just wanted to talk about you know, small things. Being alone, and silent, I think that’s what suits me best. In terms of what that means to everyone else, I don’t know. But to myself, I like it. Its really tranquil in my own world, although not all the time. I feel best when I’m alone, or maybe with a friend or two. I’m also human so loneliness does affect me. Its just that I don’t have a particular want to talk to people in general. They’re all adapters, and I’m one too. It takes longer for me to shift though, which is fine, I like it. It makes me different knowing that I can view things in a certain perspective. Talking also has many planes. I talk and they respond, a thousand things comes with this as well. Emotions reacting from tone, expression, mood, influence, environmental, well-being, and culminating into a sentence or two, either messily wrapped or carefully packaged. The receiver has many things to do, they can take it gratefully, give one back, tear it open, or throw it away. All these things and more travel through my mind when I’m communicating with someone and I can hardly keep up with it, its..its annoying. Now, these things can be called laws, and therefore they are rules, shackles that limit my mind. I usually ignore it, sometimes enjoy it, but as of now (and of course other times) I abhor it. I feel like its so restrictive, and so limited, this verbal communication. Troublesome, worrisome, stressful, tiring, the list goes on. I’m just sick of talking. But of course when i say “talking”, a lot of the hatred is aimed towards other people. I myself don’t talk much. I think i spoke less than 50 words today. But other people who burn hundreds and hundreds of sentences, spewing worthless things that reek with prejudice, are my worst annoyance. I’m not a dramatic person, I am liberal, and maybe a bit too care-free. So I guess its normal for serious, conservative, loud people to annoy me. Life is life and ice is cold, you shouldn’t talk about negatives things cause you’ll bring bad things to your life. Also, maybe I shouldn’t sleep so late. Time is weighing my entire life down, and I’m almost certain I’m going to collapse tomorrow. It’s fine though because life is a river and everything is fine. I hope this hasn’t been a waste, but for now. Bye.

12:10 a.m., 12/14/12

deleuze, oxman..

“This manipulation of our proximal relationship to things also brings us back to the question of the virtual – that is, a body’s indeterminate potentialities that according to Deleuze accompany all of its manifest actualizations.” – Bodies of Water by Astrida Neimanis pg. 53

“Still, “the body conceived of as a machinic assemblage becomes a body that
is multiple,” meaning that as it “contains multitudes” (to harken back to where
we began with Walt Whitman and E. Jane) a body that is gooey, blurry, full of
seams, or simply glitched is one that both absorbs and refracts, becoming everybody and no-body simultaneously.” Glitch Feminism, Glitch Remixes – also citing Deleuze..

Neri Oxman .. growth over assembly.. idk. On a walk with a new friend yesterday, they mentioned scobies? the kombucha thingy. you can take it out of water, and it changes into a paper sort of. their friend used it in clothing. “by varying material property” – Oxman. parallel growth humans from water, of water. primordial soup

recently in Metabolic Studio’s Discord “artists must create on the same scale society has the capacity to destroy”

Oxman’s reimagination of Manhattan, Neimanis’ “human bodies require a sensibility of water at a more-than-human scale.”

“we most comfortably perceive the ‘size’ of water in relation to our humanist body’s relation to it: it is something we drink, in which we bathe, or expel from our systems in relatively predictable (and graspable) quantities. We might, with a little more attention, experience the spatial scale of water at the visceral level, as that which irrigates our own bodily systems and carries away our waste. But what more might we learn about our bodies of water if we could stretch or shrink this proximal relationship?” BOW pg. 52

scarcity

almost a year later, still thinking of scarcity. getting ready to go to chaos computer, my friend mentioned AI’s potential to bring upon a post-scarce world.

in the year since, i’ve read glitch feminism by legacy Russell, Against Innocence by Jackie Wang_ listened to Disorderland, the podcast, by IG user @queervengeance.

Saidya Hartman is featured in both texts. I looked her up and remembered an ex had said she was their favorite author.

I started an are.na.

boundaries of the every day, a folder on my desktop/desktop from which I’m typing now.

a right to illegibility, a practice of incomprehensibility. I thought of a workshop participant for tngc feminist imaginings, maybe the journalist Sam Anderson’s piece on distraction too

Chaos Computer was nice, almost Groove (2000)= the image I’ve been chasing. A chill out room where I picked up Against Innocence at the end of the night. I googled the other day “how to show gratitude to your friends”

I need help in refocusing my attention.

I felt a mix of depression and anxiety today while in bed after a nap. Anxious about getting out of bed. Depressed because I was just scrolling on my phone, getting more and more sucked in. I had a resume review and edit today with my career mentor. Today was also my team’s monthly meeting where our boss updates us on everything going on. I don’t think I’m super stressed, but I can stress myself out if I get hyperfixated on something. Last week I forgot I had left a Febreze fabric spray on the roof and spent a good minute getting disproportionately stressed over its whereabouts. Tomorrow I have no meetings, so I’m hoping I can take it slow and work on my resume and a TikTok content strategy proposal for work. I want to be fair with myself and prioritize these…

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scarcity

I need help in refocusing my attention.

My sense of purpose and preference for a life I dreamt of as a teenager is kind of on my mind since I spent some time updating my resume and submitted to www.externalassessmentsummer.com today. I want to have a more artistically robust life I think, maybe one in the art, design, or fashion world. I need to think about it more. I’m 23 and still figuring out my life. Things are going to be fine.

I’m reading about abundance vs. scarcity mindsets right now, and I need help removing bits of myself that have become mired in a scarcity mindset. I feel historically like I’ve been very much attuned to an abundant mindset, I’m pretty noncompetitive, but recently I’ve found that my ego has been so fragile. I don’t like having to make decisions, I don’t like talking in a group setting, I don’t like performing because I have to cling so hard to a narrative that I constantly forget. An abundant mindset is not defined just by what it’s not. It’s collaboration over competitiveness, and I do find that distinction hews close to but a few degrees left of my more basic operative mode in the negative. Non-competitiveness

Scarcity Mentality

  1. Victory means success at the expense of someone else.
  2. Difficulty showing happiness for the success of others including family, friends and business associates.
  3. Difficulty sharing credit, recognition, power and profit.
  4. Difficulty being a team player because differences in opinion are perceived as disloyalty.

Maybe I’m going out too much and projecting. Doing things out of love, not for love. Gratitude and grace as cures for one’s jealousy – jealousy defined as a projection onto others. A lot of abundance seems to come easily to me when I adopt a childlike wonder. Imagine a world of abundance

I also need to remind myself that it’s okay to want validation. Maybe it was the effects of physical, social, and psychological silos in quarantine that made me more sensitive to the burst of life this summer. It’s been wonderful to see everyone doing amazing, but you know. It’s also the awareness or self-perception that I’m not doing as amazing. Or that I could be doing more and that perhaps there’s something critical that I’m missing. Writing it out makes it seem silly.

Related to this anxiety around not doing/being enough, I’ve been reflecting on The Nap Industry’s posts on social. They promote rest, less work, more naps, not using the word “lazy” derogatorily or at all, etc. I feel like I’m very much into all of that, so it makes it a little hard sometimes when I compare myself with people in my age group who are doing so many things when I sometimes forget to do basic things like…laundry. I feel sometimes that the more I see people doing things, the less able I am to do those same things. Like a “too many cooks in the kitchen” cognitive distortion. That feeling of redundancy is paralyzing. I have this narrative of myself that sort of distorts the past as times gilded with greatness–great potential, great intelligence, ability, tact, skill. The future conversely feels so self-corrosive, or more accurately the potentiality of self-corrosion is so closely felt that it ends up becoming so. It’s that to venture out I’d be on inevitably diverted paths, ill-equipped and un-self-aware of what I need to re-correct. So I end up not venturing out at all. So I pull from what I feel like I’ve lost in a self-pitying way to paint my present as deficient in one manner or another. It’s a bit cyclic.

A pure example of this is my understanding of high school when I juggled so much “productive” work with relative success. Everyone existed on close rails and it was easy to understand hierarchy (grades) without the need for projection. In high school was when I began creating and carrying myself apart from the baseline priority of grades. I still did well in school. Exclusion was an easy way to experience an another/adjacent form of exceptionality. Self-directed exclusion made me feel a bit more in power. I don’t know what to say about the immigrant imperative to make no trouble for others, being closeted, not being white, and what it meant to be good at school. I am editing, qualifying, and refocusing my experience of exclusion as being self-guided to a large extent. I wonder what America as a land of perpetual adolescence means in this reconsideration. I’ve been reading The Topeka School by Ben Lerner. American perpetual adolescence is my symptom. My distortion of my past as a time of great potential. This conflation with my need to tap into a childlike wonder to think abundance. Oh.

Sure, so I hyper-fixated on growth in my adolescence, was prematurely trapped within an idea of what I could know and what I could never know. I recently told a friend over bad Viet food, “my base of knowledge is too small.” So, American perpetual adolescence (APA) as a lens through which I understand my increasingly scarce mindset.

Victory means success at the expense of someone else | Defeat means loss at the gain of someone else.

Another neuroticism: the need for exceptionality in arbitrary measures. If someone is typing, I am not typing. If someone is on their laptop, I am not on my laptop. It’s a paralyzing fear of redundancy. A deference built from negative modes of operation rather than the grace of abundance. We can only exist together if we can both accept our own uniqueness and others’ and see them as strengths. This is all we need. Scarcity is an illness of over-individualization. Everyone matters! It’s not you or me. It’s not us or them. It’s all or nothing. All as in the all in queer liberation for all. All as in the all in we are not free until we all are free. All as in the all in we are all worthy of love.

Redundancy brings up the idea of uselessness and usefulness. I hadn’t considered that. I usually think of it as a way to balance. If there’s no need for balance, then I can remain useless. The cumulative effects of passivity on my identity? It’s deleterious toward identity. Remember, I forget to remind myself of my narrative. This is scarcity.

What are its roots? Masculinity and its making? Pg. 160, the father Jonathan: “unmoored by the absence of someone who needed me” (Lerner). I feel closest to the character of Jonathan. He does not react aggressively when Adam does, which makes Adam more aggressive. He says the above line^ and this: “Maybe I was only relaxed when I was with someone who wasn’t, when I knew it would be useful for me to be calm, calming?” – which is often an experience I felt I had as a kid. If my sister was scared watching a horror movie, I wasn’t. And then I experienced so much of my life alone with art in a sort of mutualistic relationship. Reflections, attention, words for new catalysts, for more enrichment. Jonathan has that trip. He makes that film of a play. Adam describes the texture of a memory. It reminds me of an instance of depersonalization in 10th grade. Waiting for the bell in the cafeteria. Feeling reality shift into a filmic dimension. And then the texture of a memory, shoes up the ramp. Repeated hundreds of times and coiled now from the unconscious into a conscious touchstone that’s less textured than when I first recalled the memory of shoes, ramp, looking down. Language as synesthetic? A quote from the documentary Fantastic Fungi. A tactile memory, and memory relating to language. Yiyun Li. History. It’s starting to not be useful. Relevant (redundant).

but it is just fine and i’m okay with fine

on the precipice of a widening gulf and a watershed moment where the first line ends. 
who, whose, whom, which, what, how, why, when, where
i remember when salted air touched chapped lipstransfused aridity, salted limbs and skin (on Mississippi mud-skin)
I guess we all live from one weighted bell valley to another \ i feel “drenched” in the gravity of desire, unequipped with the vocabulary to situate myself within it, and ever around it – to feel its contours, to want to know where it ends and i begin
“trapped” “stuck” “impeded” “confounded” an inexorable pull, a matter of degrees
i know when i close interruption, distraction, my thoughts on cobbled-stoned keys rock on about power, with a little prompting, – – – and on about reciprocity. gentleness, altruism. 
and then I guess I would say more about desire and intimacy, aloneness, needs – a pencil. Joy at information gathering, a prefrontal predilection for dopamine. These were all you.
the truth is too scary to write down, so I think them instead, in discursive reels . \ i wouldn’t want to know it.
Dream looping, an ouroboros – full of scales, what else?
a distributive copy 
copy as essence, as property
the lonely city: intimacy, to be seen, or to see, focused absolution of the self, an ego-dissolution, a rebuttal to loneliness

“a whole new universe to be alone in” the world being a bit amorphous? I’m only concerned with myself really. “making art is a selfish act” that’s all well and goodthe step is then filled with uncertainty – something has to be here. Then it won’t be there. Absent presence. The past in the present as yourself with other people. 
absent presence: sometimes used to describe the layered experience of landscapes changed by time; revisiting an old childhood town to find that the Blockbuster is now a mattress store, or the saplings you helped plant at your middle school are now fully grown. I guess you’d call it nostalgia, or the persistence of memory. 
i don’t have the ability to care enough about what other people want. enough as in care appropriately, or care sufficiently. or care at all. longevity is elusive for me, i force it into illusion, isolation 
I’m sad that I’m lonely. 

writing inspo

Write 10 lines starting with “I remember”

copy an article word for word:

https://nymag.com/arts/books/features/60120/

A paragraph starting with “Today I noticed” till abandon

and/or “I am grateful”

“You must write, and read, as if your life depended on it” – Adrienne Rich

re-read 10:04, Yiyun Li

Katherine Mansfield’s journals

Notes for Modern China 1/5

listen to Song to a Seagull

Sculptural Aspects of Le Corbusier

read The Bible?

Trans-Pecos is a desert

Trans-Pecos is the area to the west of the Pecos River in Texas, known as far West Texas. It’s mostly desert. did I know Trans-Pecos was mostly a desert? I guess I might’ve – and now am re-remembering /or learning the first time.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trans-Pecos

i had this outfit on today, with nowhere to go, and I really thought to myself, I look like someone who’s about to head to Trans-Pecos. There’s a style. Someone who stands to the side of the stage at a Trans-Pecos concert. I’d often enough gone to those and asked myself, who are all these people standing around at this place where they play Toro Y Moi, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, and Tame Impala on speaker while the band sets up? And the chilling answer is, bitch that’s me. She’s her.

It just feels like the “always has been” astronaut meme but worse, like I’m both astronauts. And instead of space it’s fucking Brookyn, New York. The gall to even try being oblivious.

I guess the point is that I’m turning over in my mind what I’m trying to say to myself and others with what I consider “stylish” or… “cool” – odd memory, but in middle school we had these micro-courses early in the morning that ran for half a semester and were focused on niche subjects. I took one on merchandising about advertising, mall-stuff, stuff about being “cool” – a slippery ideal that morphs once it’s “caught” – I guess that’s how the course put it. Once “cool” is known, it’s no longer cool. I guess I’m identifying a little with this old memory in the way finding a definition for my style feels the same as ruining said style.

The fireworks are me admitting I look like a hipster and the animal noises and Jan Sport are me and my sense of self imploding.

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from @dalanium #transpecosbackyard

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red pants

Ok so, I had a bit more going on than the people in this photo. That’s not the point. The point’s somewhere between my anxiety over belonging to a vague cluster of aesthetic certainties, a devotion, a need to cling onto ambiguity that substantiates my own un-self-awareness and in the moment kind of living. I don’t want it to make sense. I feel like a stiff ball of dough resisting my own attempts to flatten myself out to a more transparent film.

some sonic remembrances

tabs in my browser/songs to cry to from a couple years back/a crying timeline i guess?

absolutely started bawling
continued bawling, but was cut short lol (it’s a short cover)
carried on crying with this banger

yes we stay crying i guess ^

a little more lighter, transitioning to uh…back to reading time. Reading: The Lonely City by Olivia Laing, page 64 ish “a personality that both longs for and fears being subsumed into another ego”

noice

cry party officially over. here’s some rock:

can’t get over that that’s how he looks and sounds. i non-stopped listened to one of his early albums in high school. love how fast he puts out music. god i need headphones!

https://rubberbandgun.bandcamp.com/album/horror-sounds-in-stereo

hell yes this was the album ^^^ so long and so good. i injected those vibes straight into my bloodstream 24/7 during 11th grade. always too loud for my lossy earphones.

really fell in love with Lianna La Havas from live performance videos like this one. so jazzed i got to see her live at Afropunk in 2019. that day at Afropunk was her bday! there’s a recording of her set a couple years back that also took place on her bday.

music from my phone that I was listening to earlier, before the cry fest:

i re-downloaded the youtube music app which i used a lot freshman year of college. Listened to lots of SALES on there. and Spoon probably. just that one song Inside Out though. Also was listening earlier to Slowdive’s Blue Skied an’ Clear from Pygmalion which is so relaxing. i did the full on earphone while laying on my carpeted bedroom floor for the full effect in high school too.

Before that I was listening to Jessica Lea Mayfield and Seth Avett’s KEXP covers of Elliot Smith songs. Those are amazing. Their vocal tones just blend so beautifully, and it’s a great way to listen to the lyrics with smooth harmonies that really bring you into the layered richness of the songs easily and pleasurably. Still prefer these to the originals – probably b/c I heard Smith’s vocals after these covers. Smith’s voice is so distinctive, scratchy, sparse, vulnerable… so different from Mayfield and Avett’s folk country intonations. makes me appreciate both more by contrast.

I was actually going to listen to Valley Queen’s Tiny Desk afterwards I think – but didn’t get to it! totally worth checking out that Tiny Desk. I had that downloaded on the youtube music app in freshman year too. listened to it to calm me down as I long-boarded across the dorm commons to class

okay before that I was listening from Spotify on my phone in the shower: Just Like My by Homeshake, Negro Swan by Blood Orange, Hunnybee by Unknown Mortal Orchestra… all on the Just Like My radio. I overplayed Hunnybee so much on road trips a couple summers ago when I had my car on Long Island.

After the shower, I got to dance to lots of Little Dragon, they’re my all-time favs. Then I hopped into bed to read Laing’s book and listen to Kelsey Lu’s version of I’m Not In Love from her album Blood. I listened to that entire album next, and then I jumped over to This Time Around by Jessica Pratt – that song is amazing. so simple, so lush. Finally, still on Spotify, I jumped into Different This Time by Cornelia Murr for a second, but it was surprisingly not the vibe. Maybe it was too much going on after listening to This Time Around, but I remember kind of finding and loving these songs on Spotify around the same time…I remember sharing Murr’s song with a shot of the blue skies outside a parking garage when I was either just starting to work or..something. It’s a good song, it has a lot to keep itself in your head and rolling like a sonic vestige leftover from a deep dream.

Oh wait, finally finally, I was listening to How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees.. for sure soothing. Hahah

I also had tabs open for Pinegrove, and listened to a whole EP of a band the lead singer recommended in a Reddit AMA, but I don’t feel like including those links/descriptions here. They’re in a column by themselves.

Other songs running around my mind: Aurora’s cover of Half the World Away at the 2015 Nobel Peace Prize Concert and versions of Pie Jesus which first came back into my head from a video of the Norwegian comedic duo Ylvis’ performance of the song that I had saved to my favorites playlist on YouTube. I’m obsessed!