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Possible loves — are for fools — The wise have — impossible loves. “Study finds that ‘chemical imbalance’ in depression is a myth…” the headline reads, citing a paper published in the journal Molecular Psychiatry in July of 2022. And further: “The chemical imbalance myth has its roots in the late ’70s and ’80s when psychiatry was dominated by the desire to understand mental illness in primarily biological terms… When the first generation of SSRI antidepressants such as Prozac was introduced in the late ’70s, a key part of their marketing claimed that they targeted specific neurochemical imbalances.” This view…
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“In a notebook in which Acker sketched out her final work, an unfinished libretto titled Requiem, she wrote, “I’m giving you the clues, but as yet you don’t know the clues to what.” // what started as a continuation of the (previous) trauma post, long ago and old now, irrelevant maybe, re: the public display of “healing,” the sharing of one’s healing “journey” and the idea of selling that process — this thing i see over and over again in interviews and bandcamp write-ups. my nausea towards it… in other words — real bitchy: can we please have some dignity and…
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“They’ve healed me to pieces.” —Paul Celan originally posted to substack — Sep 22, 2023 i woke up shouting for calm, begging it to be quiet, back and forth from the bedroom and kitchen, tried to get ready for work but —kneel and put my head to the ground in surges, like shockwaves – something detonated on the far end of a multiverse and felt from the wrong side. it demands a physical reaction so i scream and double over until it passes. i’m wandering around in low light as i pick up the cat’s bowl and my wrist tickles…
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originally posted to substack — Aug 26, 2023 i keep thinking i should go to LA, probably, before we die… and my first thought — NO WATER, even as it rains. fires, gangs of drug-addled arsonists, it’s already happening here too. every major west coast city i keep thinking, every single one and i can’t imagine living anywhere else, the closest thing i’ll ever have to an identity, maybe —fire & geography instead i read I LOVE DICK again – it’s been eleven years, things have changed, i’ve accepted my own misogyny and it’s made me a ‘nicer’ person. the…
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“The end of the battle is the time of female ritual.” originally posted to substack — Aug 01, 2023 featured image above // TWBT – Katy Mongeau (Video Poem) This toxin of alchemy, seduction and mercurial immixtures is reddened by the chromatic pigment haemoglobin. Composed of four polypeptide chains, and four nonprotein pigments, this concoction of iron and oxygen is seen surfacing. Red blood is metal. The body is the breeding ground of anorganic life. With no interior closed off to the environment it behaves as an electrical conductor drawing energies from the earth’s ferric core. The body has always…
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My existence here is to prove gxd’s failure. I write in anger, it excites me – into description, differentiation, adrenal ink that names me as I drip originally posted to substack — Mar 30, 2022 —it’s just the distillation of my will, sour like a blade or speed in its discernment. I think, or is it the tension handed down through succession of creation – my contempt for myself as “an ill-conceived thing,” gxd’s contempt for “its own failing hands” The demiurge is hence not antagonist, deviant, fool, or evil; it is the fire and blood of all things, in…