Shallowmeya

A man who finds himself among others is irritated because he
does not know why he is not one of the others.
In bed next to a girl he loves, he forgets that he does not know
why he is himself instead of the body he touches.
Without knowing it, he suffers from the mental darkness that
keeps him from screaming that he himself is the girl who
forgets his presence while shuddering in his arms.
Love or infantile rage, or a provincial dowager’s vanity, or
clerical pornography, or the diamond of a soprano bewilder
individuals forgotten in dusty apartments.
They can very well try to find each other; they will never find
anything but parodic images, and they will fall asleep as empty
as mirrors.

— Georges Bataille, The Solar Anus

Sculpture no.1 pt.1
materials: wood, rubber, steel, nylon, cotton, plastic mesh

I’m still working on getting a video of the arms moving (they go up and down)….

I found the poster for one of my grandfather’s films! 1962 “The People we Know”

Things that are of recent importance to me include occupying wall street, stoner metal, my bonsai palm tree, resigning from nostalgia, not having future plans, not doing my laundry, yoga, anarchist thought, trying to sleep a normal amount, fantasizing about the ocean, daily vitamins, intellectually overwhelming dream-feeding conversations with genius professors,…

Right on, google

I’m the Birthday Brat

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Sometimes it’s nice to revisit what feeling this way was like.

Osama Bin Laden is dead we did it now we are all safe and all wars can end and everything is better than it was before when he was alive and now he is dead