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10.21.2014

in SF at a valencia street cafe that’s playing a metal cover of “trouble” by taylor swift. i have no feelings about this or taylor swift but made the observation for tumblr. while doing recon at a conference in boulder last weekend, i tried an EMOTIV headset with electrodes that suctioned my scalp and sent EEG graphics to computer screens in front of and beside me. a dazed hippy with a white beard sat next to me with his mouth open and when i got up thanked me because “it’s very intimate to see someone else’s brain activity on a screen!” downstairs at the hotel bar, a research scientist from EMOTIV was having a conversation with another white male counterpart. the following was said. 

the awkwardness in social structures is killing kids today

sun is painful…i don’t like it, it’s very painful

there’s this thing in SF called science hack day 
for 40 dollars, open bar, tons of tech, you can do drugs, everybody just creating, you can do whatever you want. this is exactly what we’re gonna do at our startup

treat them like human beings not like SLAVES! exactly! (bartender walks in) we’re talking about management approaches.

things i do have feelings about include the above. SZA’s Z and tove lo’s queen of the clouds. the way new love feels infinite. populating my life with people whose judgment and choices i trust. (do you know what that’s like? to have confidence in somebody’s taste and perception?) what everybody’s doing, thinking, and wearing today. the ability to breathe with someone on the phone.

more later.

10.19.2014 please everybody only text me when you're fucked up

jd:

Losing mind.

lk:

say why

jd:

Stoned. A bit. Office people are fucking weird.

lk:

haha. which office people? are you at the barbeque now?

jd:

All of A's peeps. They're chill, but subtly agro. And they treat their girlfriends like shit. Damn.

lk:

AKA you have entered the simulacrum

tell me more

i'm sweating from excitement in the library, getting wet reading the dictionary

jd:

God, wet reading the dictionary. Come on. The dudes firmly suggest commands like, grab me a beer, bring that brat over here, grab me a bun. The aides were totaled separated like a jr. High school dance, boys to one side girls to the other. Presently, the guys make homoerotic jokes and reflect on past sports glories. Then they conflate an old deftly demonstrated skill to a home-side activity, crochet. No joke. It's a screen print of fifty years ago. Now the adoration of a Dr. Larsen, a plastic surgeon: the love and need of upward mobility. The desire of shape is the shape of it all. Sad, slow-moving, and longing for tradition.

lol ✳ ??? tho ✳ syntax 

10.19.2014

at the public library where a
woman in leg warmers is unraveling charmin like a scroll, zeroed in on its microfibred messages
a shrimplike porcelain elder holds a magnifying stick up to a computer screen
and some queer has checkmarked every one of my favorite spicer lines and poems in My Vocabulary Did This To Me:
"What I mean is words / Turn mysteriously against those who use them"
and
"Nothing matters except the big lie of the personal—the lie in which these objects do not believe"
a colorado mountain man rests on his right arm, which is extended and pressing raised buttons on a tiny nokia that shrinks the longer he holds it in his hulk hands
where the internet shelf features books like
Laptops Simplified (which is already too complicated)
BIGFOOT
UFOS 
The Man Who Invented The Computer (already wrong)
and
The Dream Machine: How Computers Became Personal
and a lot of adults wear backpacks
all surrounded by glass walls that double 
as a screen of saturated deciduous trees
and a canopy of autumn is suspended above a glass ceiling
my affection is perverted and delusional today
a motley crew of homeless men by the creek saw me inhaling 
their joint from a mile away and shouted “hey sister you wanna smoke?” 
involuntarily i flashed a huge grin and said “i kinda do” and kept walking while they didn’t let it go
this just flowed into the next encounter
which was another dime-a-dozen mtn dude walking his dog 
"what are you listening to no let me guess"
"ok haha" he said 
"NIN" was my first suggestion
"nah, it’s dubstep," which was my second

10.19.2014

many hats

10.18.2014

(Source: spiritandteeth)

10.17.2014

10.16.2014

Jenny Holzer, Living Series

(via threedamsproject)

10.14.2014

elizabeth lapovsky kennedy’s moving boxes (/crisis ordinary).

10.14.2014

dddreamy:

my other feminine side

10.13.2014

walking out the door to talk about testo junkie
or
"historically specific modes of embodiment and subjectivity
shifting epistemological regimes
transversal methodologies
originary technicities
trans bodies not as exceptions to rules but exemplications of rules
refusal to segregate sexuality from political economy 
ways of writing that make you feel as well as think
obscure yet pertinent historical knowledge
slightly daft and handmade modes and objects of analysis” (S.S.)
the edible panopticon 
orgasmic force 
grafts
baise moi, says the body — autocontrol and autoextermination 
high-tech heterosexuality 
microprostheses 
biodrag
the twinned ontologies of gender: vision and imperceptible “feeling” 
crystalline mists
narcosexual affects 
and hopefully, nicki minaj’s technogender 
x

office hours ✳ beatriz preciado ✳ testo junkie ✳ trans theory ✳ baise moi 

10.13.2014

kimberlyalidio:

La Boyer

"her work is awake in a place where women die"
thinking of anne boyer today.

(Source: youtube.com)

10.11.2014

bunnycollective:

ssissterss:

SSISSTERSS is a new quarterly webzine highlighting the creative work of queer women artists. 

Find Issue #1 and #2 available free online at ssissterss.com and follow us on instagram @ssissterss.

Featuring interviews and work by Ramdasha Bikceem, Gabby Miller, Celeste Marie Welch, Factory Girls, Terry X, Grace Rosario Perkins, and more. 

We are currently seeking contributors for issue #3 and beyond. Please e-mail info@sissterss.com with interest. 

follow this zine for queer women artists! open call for submissions right now!

(via thechapess)

10.11.2014

(Source: whateverjeanne)

10.11.2014

Twenty years later, when I go back to the city where I was born to visit my parents, I sometimes run into girls that I loved during my childhood. They’re married, have children, dye their hair natural colors, wear leather coats, and actively resist relaxing their neck muscles. They greet me with terrorized surprise. They say to me, “You haven’t changed.” I’m always the little guy they knew at the school for girls. On the other hand—and this goes for the most bourgeois as much as it does for the most working class—they’ve already lived the best years of their heterosexual life and are preparing to reach forty, with only the hope of a rejuvenation technique. Some are happy about having children or are justifying not having had them; others seem indifferent; some are still in love with their husbands, or pretend to be. But in a certain way, within a temporary rift, they are still my little girls, my bitches. They still have time for the revolution. 

—Preciado, Testo Junkie

beatriz preciado ✳ testo junkie 

10.9.2014

prettiest colors on the planet
iranian brunch forever