REPUBLIC OF HEAVEN

Just as I've been asleep all day even when I've been walking and talking and such I've been dreaming too. I find it difficult to stop dreaming when I'm alone, and by choice I am alone almost all the time. and right now I feel divorced like Ben & Jen on Nothing Better. not really like any of the real divorces i've encountered within the history of my family and my friends, which were mostly affairs of paperwork and clinical coldness. I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave, I say, as Jen. I can't my darling I love you so oh oh, says Ben. 

the angle that these thoughts take is necessarily interesting, to other people if not to myself. i feel compelled to write as if i am speaking to other people and not myself. and if you are a rare kind of person, people who are not that kind of person and people who are alike will find curiosity in your very existence. it calls for a lot of repetitive self-explanation. i hate doing it. i never asked to be like this. i never asked for all this extra work. call me tomorrow.

one aspect of not knowing you're aromantic for most of your life is you end up stacking up histories upon histories of breakups you have experienced that don't make you feel any particular sense of regret, or nostalgia or whatever. within or without the numbness of depression that's defined my life for the strings of time when i've been off my hormones, I look back upon these past selves without interest or pathos. It is not my place, anyway. I will simply get out of the way of my exes, allowing them to process the end of our relationship however they see fit. literally whatever. I'm not stupid enough to think i'm some big fucking deal. I just like putting stuff on my blog. I also like disco, fetish webcomics, and art made in Microsoft Paint. I don't have to justify the way I live my life.

I've had a few that break the rubric, though; particularly emotionally wrought ones. 

I realized just now that none of them are actually different in any significant way from the ones that I don't care or think much about beyond having come at specific times in my life. On a large scale the gaps in my life I was trying to fill with romance were not gaps meant to be filled with romance. Sexual innuendo aside, I do not think I have any gaps that need filling by romance. I have room in my heart for a lot of people, not just one or a few who I structure my life around. I do not want to imagine a future where I do not spend most of my time alone.

But...

But...!

At other times I don't want to imagine a future without certain people. At times I find comfort in the fantasy of a future with certain people.

I assume those are the ones that, should our friendship fall through, I will spend the rest of my life dwelling upon...

the rock criticism industrial complex focuses on what is honestly a very restrictive way of thinking about music that is unfortunately the main one taught to people using their music tastes to define their identity especially on the internet

this idea that there are Artists who create Albums. these Artists have a body of work consistent to the Artist. in musicology this is called Rockism because it originates with the 1960s development of rock-as-art, which followed this template, because this is the template so often used, it is extremely hard to escape this hierarchy of artists and albums. which sucks because many genres are entirely outside of it - techno, EDM, dub.

if you asked "what's a good dub album?" your heart would be in the right place, but you would be trying to take the rockist rubric to a genre based around, more than anything, a beat, a pure sound and rhythm. it's a cultural thing, a communal engagement. so you look for artists instead. the way you get "into" dub is that you go on youtube and you search up King Tubbys DJ Mix or like. Best of Lee Scratch Perry. 

the first thing you will notice is that all of these songs have different beats, different tempos, but almost-identical basslines and instrumentation... and also an underlying groove that is hypnotic, based around a sort of fractal organization of accents. like a ziggurat, every individual offbeat is emphasized in decreasing order of smallness...

1. the second half-beat of the 4/4 measure
2. the second and fourth quarter-beats of the 4/4 measure
3. the second/fourth/sixth/eighth eighth-notes of the 4/4 measure

and continuing onward down that infinite pattern. it is a groove almost always called "hypnotic." it's more psychedelic than anything.

it's like no other music on earth. it's the only music aliens would ever find interesting. enjoy.

YOUNG SCHOLARS AND WOODLAND CREATURES

april 6th 2024. me and my best friend riley, um, we went to a show in manhattan, this show was in - at the Gramercy Theatre. the performing artist was glass beach, a band of which i've been fond for some time. ive kind of a sentimental attachment to them because a very close old friend introduced me to them and being able to admit that i enjoyed them was an important part of the process of accepting myself. when i was 16, i was a very angry young girl because i was frustrated with myself and everyone else. and glass beach was so earnest that it forced me to confront that, and think about it. it took years and years until i finally confronted it. i thought i wasn't allowed to be the person i wanted to be. but i can admit that now. i couldn't before.

and um, that is the kind of energy that the concert had. um, it was kind of amazing, actually. uh, the gramercy theatre seats about 600 people and the show sold out which made me grateful riley had bought the tickets back in something like, sometime in 2023 like november or october maybe. um, and, uh, somebody outside said, um, something along the lines of "these people all look like exactly the sort of people you would see at a glass beach show, if you imagined in your head listening to their music, what a glass beach fan would look like." um, actually when me and riley uh, when me and riley arrived at the place we arrived about half an hour early, and saw the line, and it was already pretty long, and we got wendys and we went back and the line was even longer, and even though everyone was standing around the TD bank, I realized it was the glass beach line when i saw someone with an aphex twin beanie standing outside, which was pretty funny actually. so, we also walked past niche, um, niche celebrity and creator of bloodborne kart lilith b0tster. who is, ~6 ft tall with bright blue hair and a witch hat, so, hard to miss. it was kind of interesting to see somebody with that distinct of a presence, but to be honest everybody else at that show had a pretty distinct presence, it was just that the one that i recognized was um, b0tster. um... something...

when we got in, uh, two pretty good bands opened for them... there was this sort of jazz rock thing and then there was a pop punk band with a very pretty trans woman as the frontwoman, um, nothing to add there, it was just kind of like, it was the first sign, it was the first thing that made it seem kind of like... that comforting, like, expression of the self, the nature of that, and the fact that there was this very pretty girl and this very amazing singer who felt no need to hide her sort of mid-high tenor, which is an unusual range for a cis woman but pretty common for trans women, and, everything kind of followed from that... what i compared it to afterwards was um, i always think of the internet as a kind of astral plane, and in almost all mythologies that deal with an astral plane tehre is a moment where the astral plane and the physical one meet, and, um, well when i showed up, riley and I were wearing uh, matching hoodies of gir from invader zim, and um, riley had fox ears and a tail on, and not only was that happening, but people kept like pointing it out and saying it was cool, and its just like, this total universe of positive self expression spilling out and becoming one. it's the sort of thing that makes you realize all suddenly, that all of this is real, especially as a trans woman its like, this is real. i really am a woman. im not some cosplayer, not some, like, overoptimistic kid trying to be something she's not. no! i am this thing that i am. and nobody else can do anything about it. and it was so celebratory. and i looked there, and i looked onstage, and classic j has, classic j has, so...

the way this worked was that um, the first two acts had a certain energy, but i wanted to dance, and i wanted to dance to glass beach, so i sat in the bleachers until the glass beach set started, in which case i nodded to riley and waded down into the pit. and i ended up being quite close to the stage, and i saw on the stage that classic j had a plushie of a fox on her keyboard. and the thing that struck me, standing there, dancing my fucking heart out in that pit, was um... people like me matter. people like me and riley matter. people like me and riley can fill up a fucking theatre and get people dancing and get people fucking moshing and get people doing a weird circle thing, in the moshpit, and um, like, some people who looked like their fursonas were there, on and offstage. its the sort of thing that you like you're lonely and youre trans and youre like 16 and you sit and you cant even imagine something so perfect and wonderful. but its real. and this is the real world. and all the shit on the internet doesnt matter.

cuz, yknow there was another thing happening fucking april 5th-6th. it was um. um, me and my band midi bunny, had a callout post written about us by a disgruntled ex coworker. and that was really like fucking my life up for those couple days. i kept waking up cold sweating feeling sick just thinking about that just thinking about like, that is dirt on my name forever now. but like being in a physical place with like, real physical other trans people, and real other physical artists, and like absorbing and channelling that power and optimism and love. makes it seem like none of that drama, none of that shit, none of that fucking PAST that we have to pretend still matters - we don't have to pretend it still matters. it doesn't matter anymore. it doesnt have to and it shouldnt have to. in the end, um, in the end it's like, you cant let anyone fall down. when somebody loses an earring everybody clears the space and turns their flashlights on. the whole idea of being an artist is looking out for each other. its why we all often hold left wing political views. cus, yknow, you gotta work together. that's how you learn to sleep at night

how could i ever sleep at night

my conscience left me petrified

Whats the point of being scared of how bad things are getting all the time i have friends to take care of

Oh yaa the queer community is in permanent self destruct mode annihilating itself over cruel policing and harassment and outright lies. Okay. The world is like being set on fire and no one has money. Okay. What you have to understand is that no matter how bad or how not okay these things are. You are still alive. You still have love to give and share. And though these cruelties matter. we still have this internet to connect with each other.

Aand so like if youre seeing this. And youre thinking like theres nothing for you, its impossible to survive. There will never be another community for you. I dont know. I think better things are possible. I think better things will come. I think there is only so long things being shit for everyone can sustain itself.

It is so tempting to be like no of course everything will be shit forever. It is so actively difficult to hope. You gotta though. If you dont hope you cant rebuild anything from the ashes. If you dont hope we cant build this new community. We can walk away together. Come with me people who had wrong opinions about porn. We can make a place where none of this shit matters. And then in ten years the whole world will act like they were always on our side. and it will be sad and cruel to us. But we will be alive

My discord is biddyfox come by say hello

good grief! there's some stupid fucking shit on this blog from this year. this spring and summer were extended lapses of reason; the full premises of my mind had suddenly been unlocked to me, and I picked the worst possible routes through them. I kept going from the kitchen to the living room through the connecting bathroom and not the main hall, stuff like that. purple prose aside, there was a lot of stuff going on that was making me miserable. its gone now. i stopped talking to people who made me feel worthless and horrible for not respecting feelings they would never explain to me. i stopped letting them ignore mine and undermine my sense of self. I've been taking pills that are slowly turning me into the real person and not the shell. none of you motherfuckers will be ready. none of you motherfuckers will EVER be ready.

cw: pet death
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the trains were late this morning. i stood in suffern and basked in shared confusion. a train came upon us and sheltered us, brought us in, and so clambered and shuddered through suffern, ramsey, ramsey, allendale, waldwick, ho-ho-kus, ridgewood half an hour late, but i think i'll make it to school on time anyway. it's not a wicked world. it's hard to feel like it's a wicked world when you look around and see everyone's as pissed that the trains are late as you are, as hungry, as bored. commiseration is consummation. it's a gift between strangers and lovers alike. the twin sister of comedy. understand this.

trains have small souls, like worms, but souls all the same. provide safety and warmth, when their organs function properly anyway. if more people believed this public transit would be better. even the sleepiest, most unaware creatures create love, create joy. I sometimes imagine you feeding me on a train.

I think I wanted us to be like a purrfect duo, a pair, two artists who bounce off each other in some kind of special beautiful way. People could watch us together and try and understand how we bounce off each other and never succeed. I don't think that can happen. I am afraid of the people who watch you, who you attract, who you cultivate. I feel so unsafe. I feel unsafe all the time and I'm worried it's because of our shared audience. So I'm sorry. I wish I could just be stronger. I wish I could be your mirror. Maybe I should make sacrifices too. Maybe I should sacrifice my safety, my comfort, for my dream. Maybe it would be okay that way. But I'm not strong enough to do that. You cannot make me strong enough to do that. I hope this is the apotheosis of my weakness, my cowardice. Maybe returning to safety in isolation will give me that strength. "A couple years in solitary never hurt anyone."

in july 2022 i downloaded a bunch of emo and post hardcore to listen to on an old version of winamp on my cheap ibm thinkpad. one of them was a split between a band called Deer Leap (an instantly appealing name) and a band called The World Is A Beautiful Place And I Am No Longer Afraid To Die. the deer leap stuff was alright, kind of melancholic emo post rock. but TWIABP had a song on it called I Will Be Ok Everything that basically got me into them on the spot, i was gorgeous and energetic and had memorably colorful lyrics and used synthesizers well. I downloaded the album Harmlessness because of it. That has a song on it called January 10th, 2014, which is a slow vaguely operatic track that crescendos into righteous Bernard Sumner dronepop ecstasy, embodies moving beyond fear and history into a world of light

I used to be really fucking angry all the time, it was a manifestation of something nameless, a ripple of history. I like to imagine i'm better now. I understand the anger and understand that it is really fear, and fear derived from love, so i may as well just love people with my whole heart like I always wanted to but felt I wasnt allowed to. But back when i was always angry a lot of it got directed towards one concentration of forces. This creature is one of the people closest to me in the world now, and was much closer than I was ever aware of, but still all my hate and all my hexes went herwards, in a stupid and cruel way. In a moment of pathetic weakness I lashed out and tried to cut away the organ

creatures like me are predisposed to think of themselves as beacons of negative energy, unable to love except in a warped ugly way, broken permanently. but the organ removed did not host anger or retaliation but continued to love my spirit despite my scorn from it. The same ripples that made me angry and afraid made me remember the history of the body which projects my mind. There was plenty of history of being manipulated, of being used as a tool by scoundrels. i could tell a dozen stories of self inflicted loneliness for safety but none of truth to myself, none of honesty, none where I had the chance to express even a fraction of my love for any but a small number of people

"make evil afraid of evil's shadow"

i had convinced myself fully that there was no goodness or kindness in the world, that I was alone and pitifully naive in my universal love for people,

but suddenly i was being treated with the most visceral and piercing and unconditional love I'd ever received and I couldn't lie to myself and say it didn't feel like

like

the best feeling in the world

"it's called love, and it's so uncool. it's called love, and somehow it's become unmentionable"

(a deep breath, in, out)

so i sat paralyzed by terror, by regret, listening to january 10th 2014 by twiabp, and she asked me if it was okay for her to still associate with me and be kind to me and I realized that i didn't want to lose her I guess, and I heard the words "we are brave and strong, but dont you quiver," and i rose up, stood straight, told her i was sorry, was forgiven. thats the fucking power of love

and so from now on I refuse to hold any love in, and by doing so become unrecognizable

for a moment there i was taking it really badly. you can imagine. i was walking around campus just thinking to myself, not even anything particularly profound, just basic middle school existentialism, you know, shit like, "how do all these people just live their lives knowing that someday they'll all die?" it was really intense and important for a second. then a few seconds later i was just doing fine. this was a problem to be thought about later, to be cried about at home when i had space and time and slightly lower stakes, and right now i have to go to class.

i have thought at times that hope is an emotion i'm not capable of. like, i don't even know what it would feel like if i felt it. but it's not really an emotion so much as it is a lack of emotion, a lack of doubt, but not confidence, not active, just passive. see the thing is we hadn't talked for a while. i missed them already. but it was ok because if i wanted to i could send them a dm on discord, say hi, talk about folk music or poetry or something. but now i can't, and i think i might never again. this is a person i have been closer to than anybody else in the world. this is a person who made me cry with their kindness more than once. this is a person who just kept changing my life. and now the last time i will ever see them in person is watching them walk out of the mall, happy and content. seeming so, anyway. it's not like i ever knew what they were thinking. maybe they were dealing with some awful shit. maybe the awful shit got to them before anyone else could.

i don't think i'll ever know.

but i miss my friend.

i did a cover of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out when I was sixteen. it has banjo, my favorite instrument.

there used to be this guy who was kind of in love with me. he was a not very good person but a lot of that was my fault. me and him and a mutual friend used to hang out a lot over discord calls, each of us on a different part of the world. it was very emotionally big and important. it sucked for all of us because we just hurt each other constantly. on these calls i used to listen to there is a light that will never go out. it's a very good song. even morrissey's lyrics and singing escape their typical gracelessness and become beautiful.

for basically the entire year of 2019 i don't remember very much besides that. and even then all i know about that is that it happened. i dont remember details, i dont remember events. i remember that the three of us broke up and it was awful and i kept contact with the guy who was the worst person id ever met and not the girl who was kind and full of love and i have trouble forgiving myself for that. but it was just online shit. that can affect you as much as anything in reality but it is difficult to let it affect me personally. through all of 2019 i listened to a lot of the smiths on my iphone, in general. it is in my dna and will be forever.

i covered it so that it would become mine. i covered it to sound like a weird surreal version of a campfire sing along, with layers of acoustic percussion and banjo and acoustic guitar and shit, but like, the guitar goes distorted in the chorus so thats why its surreal. idk. its not actually that surreal. but thats me taking that song for my own. im proud of it.