It takes itself too seriously for how much it hurts, which is not enough.
– Me as a music reviewer.
It takes itself too seriously for how much it hurts, which is not enough.
– Me as a music reviewer.
A website that kept live-data of when people were certain places? You had to login. And the places were ilegal?
Negative space streets of Venice.
I was a tall boy with blond hair.
Woke up at 3:30. Woke up at 6:30. Iphone note dreams, coffee, running by the river with 10m meditation. The rest of the dhal.
Bought the new-used red racing bike. Bike-dad was happy I was happy, I was happy bike-dad was happy I was happy.
Zoomed to fabrica like a hell-bat.
Went to Mensa with Matteo. Talked about music. Just now I put 99 Jakes new release (Stairs Descending Into Heaven) on Matteo’s wall and we are listening to it, loudly, in headphones across from each other, and both of us are laughing about it.
A place is a feeling that becomes yourself
A sound is a feeling that becomes yourself
At Xtian’s tape release, I was the first wet guest to arrive. For the second year in a row, monsoons came early.
Technical issues and I was so thirsty. Rain was strong enough to put out cigarettes but not fill my little paper cup.
Luna, Sarah, and MC came from a party at Buffalo Thunder, filled my cup with wine. Angelo played sweet, his back to the crowd. Xtian did dark and foggy with yelp-jokes and clarinet. Outside, touring act said he would try to ascend to the level or brattiness embodied by the sensitive bros before him.
I joined Angelo on a dance floor of no-kick. Experimental Housewife outdid herself with a non-dance set.
I gave Sarah my jacket, I said I would give Sarah a ride.
Sarah: “What do you wanna do?”
Me: “By gang!”
(Angelo and Luna sitting in a chair)
Angelo got up, hugged me close. Locking eyes and looking away: “When do you leave?” “As soon as my visa comes.” “Don’t go.” “I won’t.” We kissed.
Sarah and I got in the car. Laughed. “I feel like Angelo has been a little flirty toward me.”
MC: “What a fucking psycho.”
Me: “What I should not do is go to the after party at Luna’s”
We talked about our days and shared the two Tecates that were in the fridge (Angelo moved in… he brought his stuff over…)
Sarah: You’re dying to go over there aren’t you?
We met the new neighborhood cat, she was dressed in all black. Read her collar: “Banana”
Sarah and I went home.
On the 28th, all my friends and idols came up to me, hugged me, and put money in my pocket. I recommend this experience to everyone. All I could say was: “thank you, I love you.”
Cathy arrived early with a sixpack and asked if I wanted a beer, I said I did, realizing that I did, and that it was now time to break my fifty-day sobriety.
Amanda, Jaque the House, Dirt Girl and Lucci Ferrari DJ’d and 404 Not Found played. I danced so hard. Benji and I danced so hard. Onlookers commented that it was great to see Benji and I catalyze the dance floor at least one last victorious time.
Angelo came up to me at one point, said “I love you a lot” and held my hand. I responded: “I love you too.” He said “thanks.”
At 2 Angelo leaned over his turntables to ask if I wanted to play soon or nah. I was like: “It’s 2, I think everyone should go to sleep.”
Instead, 50 some guests flooded the dance floor. I played my “Fuckset.” When I dropped Jerimih’s “All The Time” everyone took their shirts off.
Difficult not to drink when you come home to the bounty of party-beer, housemates and touring band in the yard shooting empty cans with bb guns and blasting music. I have instead been accessorizing with a cone of dark chocolate Coconut Bliss.
Diesel Dudes accompanied us to Meow Wolf, where we did a Mallplex Juvieganger photo shoot at Wiggy’s Plasma Plex. The band asked what this was for. I didn’t know.
Diesel Dudes and Weeper played our “Eviction Party” which was loud but ended early. Half the party came after the show. Emily Montoya invented the product “Water Light” tagline: “Finally!”
Patrick Tabor showed off a faded and stained WB hat, said there were a lot more where those came from… in Diesel Dudes’ Warner Brother deal they got some hats, a bunch of VHSs, board games, and a dog with wheels for legs, her name is: “Wheelie.”
As guests thinned we danced reckless to Gabber in the empty living room.
Listening to Angelo Harmsworth – lulling, urgent poignancy, delicately illuminated, discovered through various points in the body.
Doing the dishes – Feel sad or weird for some reason? Do the dishes. Weepy – bad premonition? Make sure all the dishes are done. In poor health? Chronic infection? hangover? someone die? Clean every dish.
When we moved in our slumlord, RaeRae, told us: “No smoking indoors” we were like: “We will train our puppy not to smoke inside.” What is ironic is that our puppy (beloved house mate and 1/2 of goth band Rihanna) peed on the floor the other night. He was sleepwalking.
(age old Rihanna pics)
Beloved house mate and I share the fact that we have missing teeth and that we are pisces. We both get profoundly bummed after performing music. We both like to drink.
After opening for Them are Us Too and Drab Majesty I became profoundly bummed. I got a fever. It was new moon. I stopped drinking for the next lunar cycle.
I stayed home from work and read the Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I am a minimalist, but never have I felt liberated to be this much of a minimalist.
Next I went to my mom’s to sort through what was left of my childhood: heritage stuffed animals that had been my mom’s (a monkey named Turd, a special needs tiger, a dog called Bruno) to give to baby cousin Nikola. Bahti and crouton continue their powerful ju-ju in a drawer – outliving me? It is me in them… whatever.
Our closet of entry-level irony went back to the source (Goodwill) for the next generation of “Dress Your Worst” parties. The last step came in the form of the neatly packed boxes: middle school, high school, college, and endless love letters with the dead.
Now that I have touched every object and decided where the items I’ve kept belong, I know everything that I have and I know where all of it is. I have also been deep cleaning all-the-things, no dust on plant leaves, no blood on countertops, no pee on the floor.
Except of course, near the point of completion there was a t33n party where everyone got white-kid-wasted on 4 Loko and knocked over a speaker, a plant, and bowl of ramen.
( Laura Letinsky reference left by unnamed high-school guest)
When living with others, the only truly clear interior space one can have is one’s own mind.
For breakfast in Marfa I fried the crumbling remainder of our tortillas into chips topped with avocado, caramelized tomatoes/onions, and green chile.
We bought more tortillas and upon arrival in Austin made habanero pineapple guacamole, fried potatoes, beans, and brown rice for our tacos. For dinner that night we were invited to the Mass Gallery owner’s house and he made us tacos. The next day we had tacos for breakfast.
When we were camping in West Texas we made curry though, and went swimming in the river, where we saw a snake. I did pull-ups on a mysterious metal structure. We looked at constellation apps on iphones, looked at the stars, and slept under them. I used the base of my installation as a sleeping pad and didn’t sleep much due to being cold.
Around sunrise I dreamed Hoku’s dad was suggesting that I scar the skin on my face to make geometric patterns in remembrance of Hoku.
A few days prior I dreamt that a group of people were sitting in a circle. Alex mentioned that his best friend was a ghost. Alex made jokes with the space beside him and it was like old times. The space beside him felt charged and different and that was what Hoku’s ghost was.
A woman with a bike in West Texas talked to us about how everyone should be sterilized to stop the swell of overpopulation.
Our main goal in Austin was to go swimming. We went to barton springs and to the original Whole Foods. We bought expensive chia. I made cashew cream to top spaghetti with zucchini-noodles and slow-cooked/spicy marinara with fried mushrooms.
My friends saw Godzilla while Cole played songs for me and I played songs for Cole.
It rained and we went to Barton Springs again. I fixed some electronics in the backyard, which had that summer-smell of sun-warmed cat shit.
We enjoyed alcohol-infused snow-cones at Mass gallery and made noise. Cole used his big lungs to fill the gallery.
It was raining so much before the Raw Paw zine fest that I didn’t set up Proxy. I felt bored without much responsibility and walked back and forth through puddles to acquire free beer. I sat in Ice Shelf for a while, reading Aminadab and drinking Dos Equis. When I had to pee I walked to another art opening.
I talked to a tall white dude in the beer-line for a while, and talked to the tall dude’s tall friend. We’re all friends now.
Cole was looking at art, looking put out, and I asked how he felt. He was sort of sad about people making fun of this art because “it was gay,” and sort of sad that the art was good, but not quite as good as it could have been, he felt like it was a “good draft.” I told him the art in question was my favorite at the show. He said that the artist had invited his right-wing family to see it, and was nervous because of the gay-content.
The two of us sat at an outdoor table, beneath fairy lights. An enthusiastic computer-engineer student talked about Oculus Rift and near-future/sci-fi immortality. A self-proclaimed “ignorant gay boy” asked me about my gender identity. I told him I am non-binary but live in 0s and 1s.
The gay boy expounded upon gender spectrum and gender fluidity “Like you can be a boy or a girl, or in between a boy and a girl.” I got excited: “Because “boy” and “girl” are fundamental constructed opposites and with your wider model there are 3 genders, with the third being purple – or a blend of the pink and blue of currently constructed gender binary. I continued on my diatribe to position the idea of gender spectrum as an extension of gender binary, and offer a more 3d model where any point in space could be gender identity, because gender is continually constructed, can be anything, and doesn’t even have to be “gender.” WE DECIDE! WE DECIDE! GENDER IS WHATEVER! THE COUCH IS NOW LAVA! THE FLOOR IS NO LONGER LAVA! EVERYTHING IS ACTUALLY LAVA AND NOTHING IS SAFE!
The computer engineer boy got it more than the gay boy. Later the gay boy said “We taught that clueless engineer-boy so much.” I drank another beer.
As of this point, there are obvious themes in this post. A sensory constant that I have not mentioned is that in every paragraph I was acquiring new mosquito bites.
I Spent the last several weeks getting up at 6 or 7 and working on Stand In till 11pm or so, with food, beer, party, and going-to-work breaks in between. It went slowly. I have a real capacity to take my time.
SCUBA and I are on tour now, enjoying the luxury “no air conditioning” treatment of sitting in a metal box progressing at 55 MPH with sweat/sunscreen/dust facials.
We set up at the Tamarind Institute first, had a sleepover at the Tan gallery, and drove to Roswell the next day. Roswell is New Mexico’s dairy capital. It smells like shit.
“Why use pooping cows?” I wondered. “You non vegan assholes are the reason places smell like this.” I reminded my friends.
It was about 100 degrees in Roswell. We made salad with falafel/tahini dressing and hung out with a friendly orange cat. The person who had set up our visit at AMOCA warned us not to get our hopes up and said that the people in Roswell don’t like art. We thought that was pretty funny.
The next day we went to Marfa, which was also hot. For entertainment on the drive Sophia read us papers on critical race studies. We talked about class/culture divide as represented by places like Marfa.
I liked Marfa, probably because I like the idea of an intentionally designed art-centric community – this ideology is my white/culturally amnesic/hippy heritage. The southwestern landscape, mixed with the art movements represented in Marfa, made me feel at home.
El Cosmico put us up for the night in exchange for showing/playing there. They also offered unlimited free beer, a communal kitchen, and an outdoor bath.
Crocket and I made some noise, and Airplane Mode used my sculpture’s sounds in his electric cello set. Sophia and I went to an overpriced health food store. Chris and I made breaded and fried zucchini/mushroom sandwiches with salad. After the event was over I packed up my piece, got a nosebleed, and took a bath in the nice tub, listening to the drunken and sexist conversation of the people outside.