go ahead and say it.
unsure, like slowly breaking
sneaks in around
the corners, here, i sit, still;
blind and idiotic and
so damn unsure.
moving in slow frames, bystanding certainties' presentations,
maybe i need this.
maybe i need you more than anything.
you ever need me, darling?
with three days to go before the Federal poll
it is looking like Abbott is the one we'll extol
he's on track to obtain a plethora of our votes
we're taking a shine to his better policy notes
this Saturday we'll be waving farewell to Rudd
his tenure as our Prime Minister has been a dud
the Labor team just aren't equipped for the job
as a consequence of this we'll be shooing that mob
the constituency can't wait to get on Abbott's train
we've had enough of Rudd's well worn refrain
change is in the air and its smell is really fragrant
the Liberals charging toward victory most gallant
soon we'll have a much fresher stewardship
a better crew will be running the nation's ship
with Abbott at the helm we'll be sailing along fine
Rudd will be left swallowing the voter's brine
It is dawn and she crawls
Little feelers begin to rotor
A tiny push on a tiny motor
she hopes and prays no trips or falls
She traps herself within a stone
And hangs herself to sprout like seeds
As she wakes up, her body bleeds
And where the wind is, so will she be blown
There sits a worm who refuses to cry
As she turns dark colors and falls to the ground
The wind blows on, there was no ill sound
And now he's seen the wilt of a butterfly
was a sailor lost at sea/ ship had struck the phantom reef/
water stole it like a thief/ spared me life for the time being
Clung to timber for my life/ fins cut surface like black knives/
couldn't wait for me to die/ their eyes glinted, black as night
one vast ocean, I, a fleck/ Death's fingers tight around my neck/
thought I’d had my final breath/ another prisoner for The Depths
two arms grasp from blackened sky/ hauled me o’er the ships port-side/
wiped the water from sunken eyes/ stolen from Death, her precious prize
my rescuer, a man of old/ silent gaze of past untold/
‘round his neck no chains of gold/ aura distant as wind was cold
old ship sprinted through dark storm/ silent men vs. devil’s swarm/
our faces set, violent, worn/ against thick ropes, muscles tore
"I am the Master of my Fate, I am the Captain of my Soul"
I get nervous around you.
I feel my heart drop to my stomach.
Your smile warms my heart
And freezes time.
You have eyes like no other
They stare deep inside of me
They know my deepest secrets
And my most broadest details.
The way you look at me
Like you miss me
Like you hate me
Like youre unsure of what love really means
You can lie to yourself all you want
I'm still with you
The reminisce of me haunts you at night
You love me
But you have that macho man way of life
So you can't love me.
But you want to
The way your lips move
Is like no other.
Its smooth like a hockey puck on ice
Its words travel like teenage kids trying to escape
Something I know you wanna do.
Everything you say,
Everything you do,
Leads me to believe
You just want to leave.
train of thought or loosely structured essay? it could be either...
i’ve been watching interview after interview and thinking gratuitously as a result. imma try and sum this up as best i can because i think it’s an ambiguous topic at times that we actually have at our fingertips and yet don’t really always address, understandably though. culture is something you’re entrenched in, inescapably at times, and when you’re in the middle of it sometimes it’s hard to see the way every day and everything is a possible opportunity for affecting the main narrative.
first thing i thought of when i started listening to eddie huang and heems discuss growing up in the 80’s and using their forms of media representation (blogging, food, music, etc) to introduce different ideas to mass audiences, was that kids in the 80’s and 90’s have really been given a valuable (though sometimes harsh) lens to view the world through. in that two decade time period media gained fuel and tech rapidly increased, and we had this rare upbringing of being detached enough from media and technology to develop authentically within our environments, learn to think critically and observe what was going on around us in the world, and yet also had enough exposure and time to evolve with the rapid change of technology to understand it better, and learn almost by necessity how to utilize it to our best interests, ration parts of our identity from it, and share parts of our identity and contributions into it.
we grew up in this transitioning time, when technology and social media hadn’t yet taken as rooted a role in life yet, but were still a big part of our lives, and where we harvested some, often much, of our values and ideas from. people began realizing soon that we had access to mass information, and the spreading of. this was a tool our parents hadn’t had at our age, so we were kind of the pioneers w/lotta internet frontiers and subcultures.
for instance, the internet has managed to foster a subculture of kids and teens finding and learning about their identities. before the internet, queer was a slur, some older people still think it is, but now it’s being reclaimed by the community, and there’s a widespread narrative from queer folks addressing their identities and re-purposing what ignorance made a weapon.
before the internet, there was no mass outrage being sparked over rape being brought to justice or innocent POC behind bars or the quality of education, or culture and global issues, these are discussions that have emerged from the information at our hands paired with our world views and personal struggles to navigate that world. and in it’s own way that’s power. we have a form of mass media where, if we try hard enough, our ideas, influences, power to empathize and communicate to spread ideas and educate on a widespread basis, can be influential. we made it what it is, and we mold it into what it is going to be and the ideas it will spread hereafter.
what’s interesting to me about this power of the internet, is dominant vs subversive narrative. 80’s/90’s gen reached teen/adult years as the US went into a period of political confusion/a dominant media main narrative of misinformation. hearing eddie and heems talk about what it was like to be a POC after 9/11 at that time was intense. eddie talked about rich white 1% kids in florida displaying an unfiltered level of brutish animosity after the event, being that many of the people they knew and their families’ claims to wealth were being threatened.
he seemed mostly horrified and interested simultaneously in the way they simplified “their problem” to a sweeping generalization; people of color, similar to reagan’s own scapegoating of POC in his personal secretary’s diary. obviously that’s wack. but what he said about these kids really intrigued me because i felt like he put words to what i’d observed myself about many middle class and upper class kids, and recently been contemplating how to get around; “these kids are like…media-trained by their parents. [meaning those who benefit from dominant/oppressive culture use the confusion tactics the media uses to run people in circles about issues to avoid actually discussing them] you could talk about these things with them forever and you’ll never have a real discussion with them until you stop taking them seriously. they understand exactly what you’re saying, they just don’t give a fuck.”
it’s compelling that 9/11 created this thought point for both of them, born in the same era, that caused the incubation of ideas surrounding dissemination of tolerance and thoughts about avoidance of discussions surrounding racism/classism/oppression in the US, and how to use education and communication to change it and repurpose allocations of power taken from cultures by the main narrative.
recently, i’ve definitely been aware of these points eddie made, in that i spend less time responding to others’ thoughts that come from ignorance or anger and more time building my own. less time responding to trolls and more time trolling trolls because i just don’t have time to waste farting around with dipshits when i could be reaching and talking to people who get it and also want to engage in discussions and environments of tolerance and respect instead of more ignorance. social media gives us that horizon of expansion, those resources, and hopefully that ability to recognize that despite the people that make us sad and cranky there are all these people still to be heard and to hear and to respond that we can reach, and the power is in our hands, it’s just about how we allocate it.
when i was about 17 i met a guy who really changed my perspective on what you can actually do to make your own voice. he had a successful career, he was a natural with business, well known for his graffiti, and pretty much lived and dressed well for free because of his social reputation and involvement in menswear. all these different factors of his individuality came together to form a career and reputation he was able to live…better than most people i knew, off of. and he had dropped out of school before he’d even walked across the senior final stage. that impressed me. who knew you could be that successful without a high school diploma? pretty fucking sweet.
we now know how to utilize social media and work your way up based on who you are not what job description you fit. how to create forms of representation and send a message through art, and actually make a living and have everything you need through applying social media to your pursuits. with the unstable economy and prices of school people began to become more aware of how they could get educated outside of an institution, get a job they loved without going to school for it, have a career because of who they knew and their networking abilities as opposed to their resume. and with how much a lot of us have to say and contribute that’s a valuable venue when used correctly and used as a vessel for the right message.
and i think, this mixture of being connected but not completely has given us a rare perspective and ability to contribute in many different ways, with many individual voices, to the narrative. we have the ability to, essentially, drown out the main narrative which we all know is a bunch of bullshit.
look at the way we even just use social media like tumblr and facebook to fuck around with advertisements and different perpetuations of culture in media, like those gifs of billboards that have a picture of a cat on it instead of an advertisement, or clipart that has been fucked around with. how, for fun, some people fuck with facebook and click on ads that don’t apply to their interests to confuse the site when it tries to collect their personal web browsing data.
in such simple ways, we tweak and rewrite the main narrative. and then we can share that with millions of people if we want to, and they can all share that too and so on. social media can be such an amazing tool. because someone can share a post on tumblr saying “does anyone else feel like…” and 50,000 other people can reblog that and suddenly the idea that you’re not the only one with this running around their mind is planted in 50,000 different minds at once. that’s basically creating awareness in a way.
i’ll stop thinking, but i still have tons in my head in response to all this stuff. just wow, really interesting. i’m getting all inspired by these 80’s babies bringing the power back to the people by dominating media with their insights on how to use it as a crux to transition into change via widespread communication of ideas. this is kinda a crucial point in time when we have an advantage and weapon, to create the world we want to live in, with.
I wondered why my friend's writing and art
Were stronger when he confronted his hate
Than when he speculated on a virtuous state
Or cavorted with his notions of love,
Wanting to be bestowed with wings from above.
Why is it the pieties he'd express
Stirred up like the dust of some old book,
Bleated like a sheep yet felt like a crook,
Had failed to move, to touch, or to impress?
Why is it the dark desires unfurled art,
Commanded the summer moon and power,
While pieties had no perfume or flower,
Not even the loose wheels of a lumbering cart?
Maybe it's because he'd often escape
The demons through timidity, cowardice,
Thinking kind words could kill what's behind the drape.
But sometimes, unexpectedly, he would look
At them, not escaping through some old book,
Through pious platitudes: the twilight wood,
The shadows, the panther, the Cyclops eye -
He sometimes saw them without the forlorn cry.
He worked with what he had, and not the Should.
Memories of you claw
at the back of my delicate mind
iron nails dragging
down that charcoal chalkboard
Photoflashes off all those
endless moments, blinding me
images I can not seem to burn
could I please
pour the gasoline
let the flames engulf
Let them degrade to ash
let the ash settle
into the roots of my wilted flowers
let the sun shine again
like it used to shine
like it did
so long ago
You are nothing but ash
when the lights go out
all i think of is you
all i can think of is you
and i still blister
like you loved me yesterday.
this isn't a battle that we're in,
but you've done a spectacular job
of destroying me.
i probably could have dealt with just you
but you dragged her into it as well.
that was what sealed my fate.
it's true, i tried to hurt you first.
it was a futile effort to make you leave me.
i think i just fueled your spirit.
my move was like aiming to fire.
it was a threat, and i hoped you would buy it.
you were the one to shoot first.
i'm too exhausted for a war.
i want to be done with you.
this is me raising the white flag.