LITERALLY FORGOT WHY I WROTE ABT OREGON:
"ELLIOTT SMITH"
I went to go re-listen to Junk Bond Trader and felt like I couldn't really access the same kind of emotions that let me listen to Figure 8 in general. I had to be in one of my darkest places to make sense of that album. If I had to rank the favorites, it would be 1) Either/Or 2) Roman Candle 3)XO or maybe Elliott Smith (self-titled album). I personally prefer the self-titled album but a lot of XO is stuck in my head and it has a decent amount of favorites (ie Baby Britain, Bled White, Amity).
I grew up, like most, reading a lot of wikipedia articles. Elliott Smith was one that I definitely remember reading in school. Using alcohol and drug addiction metaphors that later became a real problem. Mostly, I grew up reading about Kurt Cobain. I remember watching that youtube clip about how he thought he was an alien or nearly visited by aliens. I can't find that video anymore but it's been a while since I first watched it. My parents reminded me of the video of Kris Novoselic throwing his bass in the air and hitting himself in the head with it. I forgot about that one.
Regardless, Elliott Smith's Tribute show was good. I don't know what a vacation to Portland looks like but mine would look awfully similar to an Elliott Smith autobiographical tribute tour. I think that would only be fair. I am literally so annoying about this but I am also really sorry to bring it up again. Maybe its a disservice growing up here but I am literally from here with a capital 'F'.
"HANG IN THERE"
here is an idea: get a life. Stop telling us your problems and let me be.
I go to bed around 9 - 11 PM. I don't have much to do every evening and I often just fall asleep with music on because its incredibly lonely to live alone. I wanted to write something on the website that felt honest and more coherent. Last thing was everything that keeps me up at night.
I want us to know I don't think of myself as a writer. I think of myself a little more sad and generally frustrated, like I feel dumb and embarrassed when I write. I think that it would be good to let me know something that wouldn't hurt my feelings.
She goes shoop-doop-a-doop-shoop-a-doopy-doop
Cat Power aka Chan Marshall is someone I like. She is my hero-- she's sad too. I listen to her a lot to fall asleep. I used to think I fell asleep with an album because I am addicted to music. Other times, I remember how easily spooked I get and that I listen because I am afraid of the things that go bump in the night. I forget that the world is a magical place. That anything can be possible (maybe not ghosts). That my poor brain wiring lets anything seem possible too.
Like delusions turn into some kind of fairytale and that I can run out the house the same way Alice in Wonderland chases the rabbit and the clock and then falls down the wrong rabbit hole spiraling and spiraling until she slips the piece of cake in her mouth. She eats her cake and I fall asleep to Cat Power hoping I understand my sadness a little better. I listen because I was very sad the first time I heard Moon Pix and now I can't seem to forget that I will never recover from being that sad ever in my life. My life was a lot harder growing up than it is now. I forget that a lot. I want to slip that slice of eat-me-dont-eat-me cake too and fall down the biggest rabbit hole that rescues me from knowing what i mean by sadness. I lose a lot of focus and I lose touch of reality with the delusional patterns I have.
I think I might be afraid of what happens when I make decisions for myself but i hope that this will let you know that maybe I have a lot of secrets but the main one is about sadness. I think that I could write a million different ways to explain I am not actually good at anything particular. I want to say I am lost, but I am like everyone else and this is like my little sorry disclaimer. Growing up I was obsessed with the idea of luck and that I could maybe find the right good luck charm, everything would fall in place and everything I wanted to happen could happen. That's the curse I was writing about and I think that its a sad place to write from. I think I was a really sad little kid and I hope that this page let's you know there is a lot going on in my head and that I can be coherent but sometimes there really isn't a context for things I say without letting everyone know everything I thought in the process.
"I DIDN'T MOVE HERE"
I didn't move here, so does that make me a townie? Its weird to be asked to have moved somewhere where you grew your entire life. I dont see the appeal of living here except that the cost of living is not too bad. Other than that, imagine moving here and knowing only other transplants? Like those gross townies with their patchouli stank crashing our suburban or way too central downtown kickbacks. What if they teach us about something other than how not to honk during polite traffic or that you need to put in your shift (you thought i was going to say blinkers, right?) at the local co-op or before your garbanzo beans go stale. Maybe not, I hid and sought at the local library until I found my library card in my back pocket. Too bad the only good library in town is a testament to protest. I could have charged my laptop and then used the bathroom.
I went downtown and accidentally stumbled into an underground tunnel and it was not too bad except all the mole people living down there.
I swear I would move here if my mom and dad weren't here too. I live in that super exciting part of town where I can mention about 2-3 kaady carwashes on the way and a few things about Jackass (the movie) that nobody bothered noticing. SO yes near the George Morlan but not tigard, be nice.
"NO MORE"
I bought Eva Hesse's diary and realized my diary is nothing like that.
I want to think that I am a secret-keeper but I probably don't have any good secrets I have been holding onto.
I broke no bones and maybe its everything I haven't done is like a big fat secret. Buyer Beware, maybe that should be tattooed on me too.
My newest habit is getting to know someone and then telling them to never talk to me ever again. I can't stop running away and maybe one day it will have a major consequence that will make me have to stop. TELL ME TO GO
here are a few recommendations:
- Fat Girl (2001)
- Is it My Body? - Kim Gordon
- Me, You and Everyone We Know (2005)
- Jejune - Stresser
"GO TO SANDY BLVD."
We had a stop in Albany, I saw a thirteen year-old reluctantly get on the flix bus with a bit more than his jansport backpack. I was riding home from college. He last minute left and nobody bothers to ask why. Regardless, its Albany and its a miserable town with a bunch of fields of ag-crops. Whatever, its Mt. Pisgah, its the same noise we hear on the radio and its the fucking true Americans riding with us too. We all get what you think we are if we couldn't get our night-out at the strip club or find yourself a date for one night on the corner of 82nd either. We might know a little or a lot but we think its a funny thing here. I drop dead at the foot of the steel bridge, or the morrison, who cares. I am a dead man walking. I care too much or too little. I hear the nosy bitches walking down 23rd and then all the homeless sweeps too. I see a dumpster fire, it keeps burning and we all know PPD won't do anything anymore. Like a hardware store or a shitty little fucking tiki lounge. We have all been there. Nice watch, can I have it too?
"NEWTON'S LAW OF PHYSICS"
I write horribly so:
What goes up must come down. In utero, or something like it. I wrote a lot to tell you a little bit of everything. I wake up a lot to tell myself that its not OK and that turning off my cellphone will silence the buzz in my head. I drank too much coffee again. Its a migraine, for sure. I thought it was a little insidious knowing caffeine is a legal drug and we all love to use it everyday.
I woke up again and could see that it wasn't even past midnight. I woke up knowing that it was too early to go to bed and going to bed out of boredom is a sorry routine. I tried reading Les Amants and it did not want to be read. I picked up the book and nothing came about it. I skipped enough pages to know that I have very little interest in knowing what a fifteen year old does and what I didn't do. Its a shame that fifteen is a lot younger now than it used to be.
I woke up not knowing were I was and prayed that night I would wake up somewhere else.
In utero meant nothing other then I referenced it. I think In utero is a good album. I heard Kurt Cobain either had a pet monkey or either it was a taxidermied monkey that he used for the back cover art for one of his albums.
I am wondering what I threw in the air to have it all coming down right now? Maybe something heavy or chaotic like that bass we were talking about earlier (see "Elliott Smith" above). I must have thrown something worrisome because my biggest fear is a wildly true accusation or generally being framed for a crime. Today my biggest worry was about Gregor Samsa. Not Gregor Samsa himself but being mistaken for having a giant grotesque transformation like him. I wondered why I always felt like Gregor Samsa and not his sister? I too was at one point 15 years old and a female, so I wonder why being a depressed young man turning into an insect seemed so morbidly relatable. We all have a little bit of a Gregor Samsa in us, even maybe if that was just swallowing a spider in our sleep.
Kurt Cobain's favorite novel, according to his mythology, is Perfume. I have yet to read it and know generally its about a perfumer who has a morbid obsession with creating the most complex and perfect perfume that he is willing to commit murder. I would not be surprised if I have actually read it. Now thinking of my childhood library and the familiarity of the cover, I could definitely have read it.
I'm not like them but I can pretend.
Maybe what I threw in the air was a Nirvana In Utero CD and it hit me on the head as I opened up Perfume. I think if I turned to anything the next morning, it would be something scaly and silver. Like a silverfish or maybe something actually aquatic.
SO LET'S KEEP IT CLEAR-- I might have an online persona but I am a firm believer of projection and wishful thinking. What is mass hysteria and whatever that social phenomena when we all are thinking the same thing but nobody bother's to say it because we are all independently thinking no one is probably thinking it. Either way, I sometimes think its like some sort of psychic link that we form, like when someone is looking at you from across the room and you just need to check to see if it's real. Maybe think less about me, whatever this is and why you are looking at it right now.
"AM I LIKE WATCHING TOMMY WISEAU?"
We all worry somedays we are Tommy Wiseau to someone else but maybe that's another form of genius?
So sorry everyone, the show is over. I know you wanted to see the last scene and then walk out and throw away that bag of chilled (by now) popcorn and hit the hay. We are all tired of writing. My god. Stop looking at your computer.
I am no artist. Thank you. No art scene is willing to take me. I can stand around too looking at works and make contrived remarks with heavy-handed sarcasm but I really fucking can't. Honestly, I hate art. I am embarrassed that my eyes are this wide open now. I look at the page and I look at a book and that painting and maybe your shoes and maybe the flier. I want to know what we all did to forget vanity is a sin and so is sloth, and whatever is similar to gluttony but maybe could be even a combo of two sins?
I am not super religious but sometimes I wonder if religion is a way to not make yourself too unhappy because not everyone can use proper judgment and common sense. It's a dangerous game.
If you thought that was kafkaesque than use google. Thanks. I forget what a massive ego looks like. Sorry not sorry.
Let's all hope we grow up a little. Baby's have young souls. Think about it. Everything is difficult and unknown. My soul is maturing and has matured in the past few years and I am willing to say it, I am getting older. Mostly wiser? I don't know. But maybe when our souls enter our body, they are finally mature enough to want to accept the lives we agreed to. When I came to earth I accepted a lot and knowing that some souls mature faster than other souls and that some mature souls are still babies to other souls, happens to make a lot sense. Knowing that some souls don't know they will accept any form of reality and that some souls want it all. Also makes sense My soul seems to like guilt.
