This moment from I Saw The TV Glow stands out in my head more and more these days. Because it is masterfully written and performed, and because I'm twenty-three and often really tired.

I've been obsessing over downloading "The Path," a game I've never played, but a game that aligns perfectly with my evolving aesthetic sensibilities. Currently using an Internet Archive download to play it, because the current Steam version doesn't work on my secondhand Mac. Let us pray that my blogging machine makes it out of this alive!!!

EDIT: My Mac made it out, but the download was in Russian and all the models were nightmareishly distorted. Dang it.

The more I navigate the world, the less I'm able to describe my experience with gender. There is an incomprehensible gray area I've slipped into. I'm not confused, I've just never been able to find the words. I still don't have them and I'm not sure I ever will. What an isolating and freeing feeling.

I'm now into Ethel Cain. I like her ASMR video about art books.

Everything was made to be reformed, later.

In 1936, Merét Oppenheim's "Object" was shown at the MOMA under the name "Luncheon in Fur." In the 90s-2000s-onward, websites and social media pages began to crop up, featuring models completely obscured in brushed mohair sweaters, balaclavas, and snowsuits. The garments were oversized, dramatic, contained looping cables, and were brushed to the point of turning the wearer into a fiber cloud.

"Object" depicts a cup, saucer, and spoon covered in fur. Nothing about it was explicitly sexual, but when picturing drinking from the cup, onlookers described feelings of unease and aversion. When I am searching for brushed mohair patterns on Pinterest, but come across pictures of people completely obscured in mohair, I feel a sense of unease and aversion. Do you get what I'm seeing? Do you see what I've been forced to comprehend? These get off to mohair gimp suits! Do you hear me? They're posting fetish content of mohair gimp suits on Pinterest! "Object" is about the sexual nature of hair and fur and the same applies to these photos of mohair gimp suits!

"Object" was heavily debated. Was it art? Or was it just some fur on a cup? Are these bizarre mohair photoshoots art? Or are they just mohair on a guy who's, like, really into it?

I've been really studying up on webdev using the playlist I mentioned a while back. I've been really putting all my energy into my job. I've been really putting all my energy into this collage night happening on the 30th. I really hope people show up to my collage night! I have a whole bucket of magazines! And I bought twenty-four scissors! And I learned to make wheat paste! Present state of mind: "no I don't know how to drive I don't know what any of this shit is and I'm fucking scared"

Getting through the stress of tariffs, rising grocery costs and high show prices by microdosing cups of cold brew throughout my shift and just begging and pleading for people to buy yarn. Currently writing a gift guide for crocheters and knitters. It feels like a shout into the void to ask people, who are also struggling financially, to buy yarn from me.

Real text I sent someone two days ago: trans drama is crazy because what do you mean the foxhole smelled like cat piss. that's a nonsensical sentence.

Here's what I've gathered as someone who never went to this venue: a local venue (basement apartment) was run by a shady trans collective (two individuals in a relationship) whose cats were prone to pissing on things that weren't litterboxes. The alleged funds allegedly collected to support disadvantaged transgender individuals allegedly often went into the pockets of the alleged organizers who allegedly justified that by saying "they were disadvantaged transgender individuals," allegedly. No one sue me. I know y'all love to be threatening that.

It's okay, trans youth. You might feel like offing yourself now, but one day, you'll be bobbing your head to noise music in a basement apartment that smells like cat pee. Things really do get better.

Moving as languid as an unkind object
affecting in its subtle afflictions.
"I got it. Still got it."
Swelling. Benediction.
More expression than art.
Art to that effect.

I don't know. I wrote this while I was dancing ugly in the shower. I haven't written anything of artistic substance in a long time, but we all start somewhere and we also all restart somewhere. So I guess I'm restarting while I dance ugly in the shower.

I'm hosting a mixed media collage night at Realms on the 30th. My living room has turned into a collage construction zone. I've been collecting as much collage material as I can afford and putting together a poster to advertise for it. It's been renewing to just have fun and to be unserious with my creative energy. I do worry that I won't have enough craft supplies on hand, and the Realmsgoers will tear me limb from limb and collage with my body parts. But if they bring literally any crafting supplies, they won't have to pay the $5 cover. This will save me!

Sidebar: I'm realizing I have a tendency to hoard skills, tools, and mediums. I rarely use what I've acquired, outside of practice. Implementing what I've learned and earned feels daunting. I think collage helps me process that feeling. Its entire premise is predicated on tearing apart what I've acquired to create something new. It's like playing. It feels childlike and refreshing.

Sidebar 2: Right after writing that blog entry, the universe provided me with this entire recorded university lecture series on HTML/CSS/Javascript. Never had an algorithm work for me like this. I might be nearly falling asleep to it as I listen, but it is hours long and contains everything I've needed to know. :-)

Went through my Instagram story archive this morning while I was parked outside Albertsons, undercaffeinated and

eating a ¢99 maple bar.

on Tuesday, on Wednesday, and on Thursday. Click each to hear how I felt by the end of each night. Credit to Muri Kuri.

I've spent an hour now just looking for an embed player that is as visually appealing (and free!)(and semi-ethical!) as bandcamp's. I will do just about anything as to not compromise the aesthetic integrity of this website, no matter how janky its UI is. I am just going to trust that you're going to click this link and listen to T.T.T (Table Tennis) from Roomic Cube by Takako Minekawa (the one who said Playstation! in the early Playstation commercials is also a fantastic musician.)

An aesthetically pleasing embed was supposed to accompany this:

I'm learning to play racquetball

Do other cities have domesticated rabbits roaming their neighborhoods and streets? Last week, I saw a Blue Holicer Rabbit

American Rabbit.

Feels these days that the rhythm of my life and emotions fall under the umbrella of "Yesterday, I felt like I would never get my life back / today I don't remember ever feeling like that." Things have been tumultuous in a way that's obnoxiously self-imposed. I flip from remarkable shows to headaching mornings, from ruined clothes to great friends, from finished knitting projects to careless slip-ups, from estranged relationships to moments of clarity on long walks. I remember that I am an animal like every other animal when I'm sick,

wrapped in my duvet covers.