MAILING LIST SIGNUP
I shall first demonstrate how far I’ve come—exhibiting my last down-on-myself contemplation from sometime earlier last week. Skip to act 2 if you don’t like Sum 41.
These feels (n.) don’t really leave. And they won’t really leave when you’ve gotten what your feels had you feeling for. But if it doesn’t get better, then I gotta get better at it. Or it’ll be the same cyclical thing.
I’m a No One in my own world trying to make the thing I wanna give. All the while I’m longing for their seemingly-out-of-reach bond(s), but of who I expect to see the worth beneath the natural non-fast-fashion rips in my clothes. I take the universal pain of the 13000th case of alienation-rejection to further power the thing I’ll give.
I give the thing. An intimate crowd proves to me the thing is a thing.
I’m home* again and wondering where everyone is.
It’s the same cyclical thing just on more operatic scales. Before or after i give what I have to give. That is a selfless act, completely removed from what I want for my voids and all the things I hold myself back with as one other person. I don’t wanna live if my endgame is longing and affecting for those who look down on me.
But these ripped clothes are part of the fabric of the kickass candy-ass-kicking things I wanna give, even after I’ll be left behind. And I choose where to go with that and from there.
For consideration heading into 2023
Extracted from Dan Barrett’s Critical Path [ nolessthan.com ]
The moment you define what you want, you define worst-case scenario.
It takes courage to put yourself at risk—to define your desires and your failure state.
Because it means you have committed to making conscious what you really Really want.
Who you show up as every day is the ultimate aesthetic expression of yourself.
That is the ultimate thing: how you show up—how you treat the people around you.
Get closer to what we want without selling ourselves out.
Be the one who invites people to the thing.
I’m giving the thing I created beyond myself.
To everyone who’s shown up – I will never forget you were the first ones to not physically/metaphorically walk out of the theatre – and if you did to use the washroom that you all came back for the rest.
To everyone who for whatever reason(s) consciously wish to stay out of touch—I know I think you know my dad died! But I get it. And boy at least it wasn’t someone I liked, otherwise you would’ve really been insensitive ahahahahahuuuuhshit
To everyone-or-at-least the 972-people who haven’t yet gotten to feel seen by Open Doom Crescendo because you only need 1000 true supporters to make a sustainable living off art—hang on please, exhibitors are cowards coughRAFFawgCoughFantasiaCoughcoughViffpostAdamCookcough
Hang on please. I’m looking for you.
Or You come here fuck – I’m always the one inviting people to the thing.
That’s what we gift-curse-carriers do. We dare everyone else not to feel.
Thank you for choosing to.