Sometimes it feels easier to deny full rationality and full intelligence to those who belief they are naturally superior to others.
This man who expressed his nature of tyranny in a relationship, has baffled me. There was something so evocative in his written statement, “I’m looking for a wife, not a partner.”
Culture barricades us from each other. What is the difference between a partner, a husband, and a wife. Immediately, I villifyed him. I put that muthafucka on the stake.
It has been easier to deny him full rationality, yet it eats at me that he wants to also be a professor. We shared that dream with each other.
He said he doesn’t undertstand how this is connected to higher education or misogyny. It makes me feel so alone.
I feels like the rules we make about gender stand on the same high cloud as religion. We are never arguing our way out of that one. Religion is truly something I have been forced to live with on this Earth.
I cannnot relate to so many people who participate in religion. Their sense of reality feels like it is 1,000 miles away from me. Personally I feel that their view stops short of dousing themselves in the slop of confusion, complication, and irrationality that is so necessary to being a true person.
It is a crutch to the pursuit of truth. But, it is powerful because it is reality forming.
Reality forming, from the actions of a biological organism, invokes the issue of choice and inherently free-will. The way I am thinking about these issues now is that, everytime we decide to do something it has a causal effect. When I belief something is true because of my religion, and that something that is true is that women are naturally inferior, necessitating violence against them... Think about what that causes. What color are those choices?
If in modernity, self is to be the center of the universe. How have we abandoned interconnectedness in the aesthetic apparatus?
We do not have to see the garbage we accumulate. Responsibility is taken away from us. Our visual senses have been traumatized beyond repair, based on the landscapes we normalize everyday. The actions we justify. We do not have to see the waste we accumulate.
To live in, eat of, and to be filth. In this era of ecological destruction and violence against animals what good does a poster print do? What good does a book do?
The best thing we can do is sit still and stay at home. Stop touching shit. Do less. Slow down.
I have been taught to think that, that is giving up.
9:06am
We are never so important as we make ourselves out to be. Self-importance is pyschological survival tool.
The concept of self in modernity substantiates it so we must have an a narrative. When presented with the choice of self as the central to reality or the absence of self from reality, I choose absence of self from reality.
The right thing to do, the fair thing, the true thing are all negotiable. Without religion, I am stuck with the question of what is natural.
To be an academic speaking about gender and sexuality, I feel bomarded by two sides. Enemy A are white anthropologists and Enemy B are religious people.
I remember walking down the street with Zachary, an urban planner I was dating that lived in LA. He said that women’s basketball would be more popular if women could dunk. We were in a sports store when he first made the comment. While we were walking down the street, he asked a stranger who didn’t feel comfortable answering.
The comment made my stomach itch. I pulled up a youtube video of women dunking in the WNBA and he made the comment that it was only 1 minute long.
So the issue was not that they couldn’t, but that it was less frequent and lacked the same historical depth.
I wanted to stand my ground, so made the effort to talk about the issue from gender in sports to social conditioning from childhood. I made it clear that if boy and girls were trained and socialized equally from a young age the outcomes would be different.
One thing I view as a naturalistic fallacy is that men have always been bigger than woman physically. Anyways, once I made that point we talked about women baseball players playing on “male-sized” fields.
I said yes.
He said, no it is less enjoyabe for them.
I made the point of records. Records are always eventually broken in time. Why not place that assumption of women in sports. We are literally seeing women on mens sports teams. Why would we assume that women cannot play on male-sized fields it becomes the norm. If that can happen for a few individuals, that can happen for larger scale groups as resources and social acceptance increases.
I made the fair point that at 15 we would scrimmage 12-13 year old boys and they were faster and stronger than me, but not some of my peers. We are trained differently, but I also had to navigate gaining weight and other bodily changes during my period. Maybe puberty is huge factor, we cannot die biological happenings.
We ended the conversation around there. Maybe more men dunk than women right now, but you can’t dunk so shut the fuck up.
9:23 am
A cultural concept of efficiency has an influence on aesthetic choices. What does beautiful efficiency look like.
In an attention economy, how does one quanitify attention? One way to measure attention is financially. Where and how is money being spent? When we measure industries, their economic scales substantiate their influence and importance.
For an industry to be worth a billion dollars, think about how many consumers that requires. Consumers indicate their aesthetic preferences, based on where they spend their money.
Labor --> Money --> Product/Service
Spending money is an act of giving attention to needs.
Spending money on an inhaler is aesthetically different, in the needs based hierarchy, than spending money on your 6th leather purse in 3 months.
Efficiency as an aesthetic concept, an ideal, has evolved significantly with consumer culture and commercialization.
The market is an artificial reality. As a reality is substantiated by human decisions. Therefore it is not naturally occuring from a scientific explanation. It is not the same reason that we have the periodic table.
The market is an epistemological experience. Its function is a product of human belief systems put in action.
The choice of giving attention to something, as expressed in money, shows how the market is a product of attention.
Boycotting, is a tactic that demonstrates rejecting attention by rejecting investment in the market.
The Ai boom has been a product of efficiency as an aesthetic principle. The magic word “automate.”
9:46 am [reference constructions and imaginaries] on word doc
I need to develop this website as my main stream of thought and concept production. Fuck social media (i am aspiring to delete that shit)
Having a child - creating a human - makes one a mad scientist of corporeal experimentation.
I am losing interest. It is hard to be still. When my mind races in thoughts of self-pity, of desperation, of confusion, of survival what else is there to do but make it go quiet and take in the scene in front of me. The corner of my dusted window where a fly is trapped it in its overlapping panels because it is slightly ajar to improve the air flow in my room. The bunny that lives with me in my room gives me allergies. I also have air purifier with an outdated filter.
If I know I am going to die anyways, it is time to reevaluate my personal perpection of time within the bounds of my survival. How many hours is it possible for me to focus on one subject. What is too many working hours where I start to lose it. What things do I need to deny myself so I maintain consistency. I think of sexual relations with men in particular. I only use weed or nictoine, and only drink too much, when I feel myself getting weak from being pummeled by irratic ocean waves; like when they crash on the shore.
Or wilting like a chamomile plant. My chamomile plant grew so quickly and powerfully. We mirrored each other’s lives. Starting stoicly in the fall, moving fast reaching out. By early november she had rotted to the root. Pale blue leaf bugs ate away at her roots. When I saw them together huddled in masses I wondered if they considered each other a family. When did they come from? I had never noticed a bug like that before.
I took the plant outside and began scraping them from each body that extended from the stem. It felt wrong and unnatural to remove them. I became the mad scientist, harming to achieve my goal. I thought about analogies that religious people have made man trying being god, and the damage it incurs. Netanyahu is trying to be god in Palestine. I was trying to be God in salvaging my plant.
I know now that God is the mystery of two things: life and death.
God has been intentionally absent from my vocabulary since my youth. I do not like being told how to exist from this framework. As I have pursued higher education in the humanities, God has been reinforced into my vocabularly as a necessary tool to be heard and to communicate. The United States is not a secular country. The laws may lack reference to a Christian God, but by all means they are reaffirmed by that reasoning.
The chamomile plant died and I became very sick. I became sick after Kylymbek fucked me really hard one night. He had penetrated me very quickly and very hard while I lay on my stomach and he was on top of me. When he finished we realized he had drooled on my left shoulder. Whatever we exchanged with each other, what was placed into my body from his release, depleted my strength. I had to remain laying down afterwards. I felt a strong wave of what I thought was drowsiness. He didn’t like that I had laid there for so long. He said I was acting like a “guy.” I laughed and reached out for his hand. Unsure of what I wanted form him I had to tell him to give me his hand. We held each other’s hand gingerly, until he grew impatience and handed me a wipe. I felt disoriented, but remained playful with him. Once I was clean, I had already brushed my teeth. I put on a pair of underwear that were too small for him, a T-shirt, and lay his in bed on my back. My eyes were red and lids were heavy. When he asked if I was okay, I said yes, and he expressed concern that he had made me “depressed.”
Physically speaking it was a depression. The light from my eyes had been diminished. My body was heavy. What I had then called sleepy, I now register as drained. I had been drained by how he had fucked me. I later learned he was a man who wanted to dominate me in all aspects of my life.
He brought the cold back that had initally arrived from a night out with my best friend for her younger sister’s birthday. My sister had bought a vape the night I went to Kylym’s without giving her a heads up. She had to drive home alone after a stressful day. I smoked that shit all night, a little bit of a cigarette, 2 guiness, 3 shots, a joint, and some buzzball before we left. It was really fun, but eventually I got a cold because of it.
When plants die it is so silent. While I die I am so loud.
There is so much on my mind. It is romantic to attribute my state to madness or losing my mind. But, I maintain enough social credibility for that to be a preposturous proposal. I know I have lost it, because the men sniff it out of me. It is not a matter of what they think, but what they deny me once they find it. There is something about being sexual and sensual that earns me certain recognition.
In my 20s, I am aging quickly. I pay less attention to convential beauty and focus on highlighting my features. I beautiful thick, and long dark brown hair, runs wildly besides my engraved eye bags, jaguar-like eyes, and an a symmetric jaw.
I woke up at 9:30 and it is now 11:15am
This is how much time it took to get out of bed, properly groom myself, rest with binky, feed her, clean her floor, and write substantially enough to inspire drawing. Is this what I need every morning?
To represent rage as a wilted flower. What associations does a dying flower provoke with the emotion that is profuse anger.
When a flower dies, it does not mean the plant is dead. As we know flowers and leaves are seasonal extensions of the body of the plant, of the roots in the ground.
To represent rage as a wilted flower, we must know that the rage is the reaction to any force that aims to take away life.
Nothing is inherently ours, not even our own life force. Any demand from an other to surrender it, particularly by force, necessitates rage before fear has been internalized.
How unfair and how cruel. So you either spend your life forced dying by self- capitulation or dying by inspiration of resistant rage.
To depice rage as a wilting flower, I must reflect on my own feelings of rage.
Can rage kill me? Or, will it be what keeps me alive
To subdue my anger is to subdue myself. Repression is just as harmful as expression. When the plant dies it is silent. While I die, I feel like I am so loud.
But when the plant dies it is silent. Loud on the eyes and heavy on the spirit. To walk in this industrialized, four-cornered, and sharp edged world I am ameliorated by the romanticized notion I hold of the world which existed before this. Before it had been overtaken.
I ashamed to particpate in this world the way I do. I accumulate more things, I take up more and more space, I am ruining the environment to make and spend money. Living small is a discipline feat.
11:56am