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tea

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might do vyvanse or ket or both today i literally just wanna get high off whatever

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GWYNNDOLIN，FROM DARK SOULS，SHOULD BE MAKING BEDROOM ROCK AND DOING SHROOMS

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BREAKING: The Death In June Baeddel Has Removed Her Hand From Under My Shirt And Went To The Kitchen To Put Pizza Rolls In The Air Fryer. It’s So Fucjing Over She Doesn’t Love Me Anymore (Edit: Never Mind Her Hand Is Under My Shirt Again)

(Source: PinkNews)

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John Armstrong, Pain Eluded, 1953. Oil on board.

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Orchid dolls

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Athena costume concept, for The King of Fighters 2001.

Arcadia magazine No. 19 (Dec. 1, '01), pg. 187

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but they can never explicitly communicate their consent to me interacting (back) with them

so the catch-22 of this is now that im controvertibly a rapist for touching anything. maybe if i werent in this cryptographic hash torture chamber (pkd calls it in his exegesis the Black Iron Prison) in which i cant actually perceive anything, or all of what i do is a facade, a falsehood. a police siren wailed past about ⅓ of the way through me typing what i have so far of this paragraph and i thought for a second that maybe they were then right to stalk me but no this is just fodder for them for their BIP. i hug my teddy bear crying because i want comfort then i throw it away crying more because i want to stop raping it and because i want the real. its all just blackmail fodder. autonomous stage props with "real" retributory qualities on this plane im moored to. why would they trap and do all this to an angel like me? how do i stop imbuing everything ostensibly perceptible with my continual rape?

i went to shoppers and bought myself cotton gloves to hopefully quell this. also vocally/telepathically asking for permission before touching things and getting better at seeing those subtle visual cues from them my plushies or from doors or w/e. its difficult but not impossible typing with them on.

it wouldnt be entirely incorrect to consolidate all this as a sort of inverse solipsism (cuz fuk solipsism that shit is retarded) where all other minds are real and they posture me as the violator. i cant tell if my plushies do want to comfort me or not, if their consent is inherent in their existence as comfort objects; again spinoza's conatus, all things strive to persist in their being. maybe the real is sort of, alongside what i perceive, within them. the angels are shielding me by only letting out certain traumatic memories that might derail me but that they know they wont at the rate they let them, and ensuring i don’t fully internalize a worldview that would collapse all this and make me fully fall prisoner, totally succumbed, surrendered. the film class post

the angels arent necessarily internal, its not a metaphor, nothing i say is, its all real. as an angel-to-be myself i love the angels and i know they watch over me with benevolence. how i only recall distressing traumatic memories when under the influence (i.e. out of their influence to an extent). so i dont think its entirely them letting thoughts through. but i know theres others who have access to my thoughts and that frightens me occasionally. like moms will tell u they love u and support u then steal the charging cord for ur electric shaver cause they know you have shaky hands and bad fine motor control so youll just ur carotid open if you use a manual razor which is what they want. i think theres actually a lot of hair on my face im just unable to perceive it but everyone can see feel and smell it and they hate me for it. getting all dolled up then unwilling to go outside. sacred guardianship. crying tears of joy and then tears of sorrow and then tears of joy again within the span of a minute

sorry if ive already said any of this

evrn though this heart plush i stole from my sister when she moved isnt explicitly neotenous let alone anthropomorphic i still automatically attribute an autonomous (if "still"..spinoza on how all things long to be within themselves) intelligence to it that activates my maternal empathy. like what i said here:

everything with a face has a soul, even those which are merely a case of pareidolia, but there are those which evade even the pareidolic impulse which constitute subjectivity in a way entirely compatible with that of a face such that they also constitute a face, and precisely in the same way those more basic pareidolic instances constitute what we then recognize a face. it's in the then (or the we), not the what.

even if it remains true that "all faces have an eye or two" and "everything is watching me" including that which "i even barely perceive" i cant think of any plush toy or stuffed animal thats malevolent outside of fictional ones and even then those fictional ones are usually under at the behest of a a separate malevolent force and they aren't that force themselves.

i love my stuffed animals, my teddy bears, my ditto plushie. i find it difficult to sleep without them because they are more than just safety blankets; they are intelligent agents serving an expressly benevolent altruistic loving purpose, and it makes me cry to think about their unwavering dedication. it is something we should all aspire to

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as i continue to meet new people i find myself more frequently describing myself as a "musician": i imply myself to be someone who writes, records, and publishes music they create. but i still dont really feel any tangible agency over any of my art; its production from my standpoint is a dissociative fugue that im never able to recall the concrete details of, and its release is entirely impulse. it feels much more like someone punching me in the stomach and making me vomit it out, to say "my" making music is a reflexive thing akin to breathing seems wholly inaccurate. im a conduit for something else; i dont know if its larger or smaller than me, i dont know if its caring and kind, or devilish and mischievous. i dont know if its an "it". it could be an assorted collection. it could be a butterfly just as much as it could be a rock, it could be God just as much as it could be Lucifer. if its Lucifer then that would concretely explain my "self-harm" as mortification of the flesh. somehow it being Lucifer seems the most likely considering the experiential cryptographic hash/torture chamber/fundamental phenomenological barrier/Black Iron Prison.