diy desires and institutional needs, pt 3

20 May 2024

pt 1 pt 2

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On Inspiration, or Solidarity with the Student Movement to Free Palestine

30 April 2024

For months, I’ve struggled to feel inspired. I looked to art, performance, and philosophy, but all stranded me in the distance between idea and action.

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fleshy, bloodied love

14 February 2024

Review

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diy desires and institutional needs, pt 2

5 February 2024

Institutional Space/Public Space

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diy desires and institutional needs, pt 1

25 January 2024

Driving through the Rosebud Indian Reservation, Alice and I were struggling to get a clear signal.

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an instant and an expanse pt1

25 July 2023

A room full of ghosts

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on clout laundering, or how close do we have to be to hurt each other

12 June 2023

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chirps and crackles

23 May 2023

staring at the blood dried on my beige tote bag, left behind by the J train from myrtle-broadway, i finger my ear. The silent echo of the Dunkin’ Donuts’s web page reverberating within my mind. Cory Arcangel’s So shines a good deed in a weary world (dunkindonuts.com) screened at a gallery occupying a former Dunkin’ Donuts in the financial district. Composed of shots of the artist browsing the Dunkin’ Donuts website, the company’s vine and youtube channels, unaccompanied by a soundtrack beyond the diegetic sounds of these sites, the piece left me cackling in the hallowed out backroom. Next to Krispy Kreme donut boxes, I watched 30 minutes of Rob Gronkowsky answering questions about his favorite donut, the endless scroll of topping options, the silent dance of plastic coffee cups, and the triumph of one man’s culinary concoction over false claims to the donut throne.

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drowning in milk

24 April 2023

Over the past month, I’ve been thinking back to Michael Warner and the late Lauren Berlant’s essay “Sex in Public.” One of the central questions of the essay is how intimate spaces ground community within particular property relations. The club, the public park, the subway, the sex shop—any space unfolds a particular set of intimacies, allowing certain forms of closeness to flourish and others to perish. The relation between intimacy and space is a political question as policy, the economy, and the police shape which intimate spaces are able to exist, particularly in cities where property values are exceedingly high.

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on scenes

7 March 2023

what is a scene?

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see you around

17 February 2023

january is the warmest month

heat eminating from the exploding birds in my back garden

one day, the cigarette ash lingering between the miss-matched pebbles, inside the pet cemetery where he buried the pigeon who died on the fire escape, but only after the momentous blizzard bled out into a slurry of mud and piss, was a fire finally lit.

another day, the cigarette butt blossoming within the windswept sand, where their body became a shield from the gusts gnawing at her slight frame, before the chocolate truffles were tucked away between plastic wrapped delicacies and glass tubes, they kissed before christ.

august is the coldest month

i wait to warm up

thinking of principal skinner

2 February 2023

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doghouse basement and pagan diy, or 9:45 on new year's eve

2 January 2023

I heard ray, the building manager of my old apartment on 13th street, squeaking out the speakers. new years eve, i’d been tasked with opening the show and decided to do something more ambient than my usual performance. my patience for soft sound disappeared as I found opportunity in absence. pivoting, I began adding compression and distortion to the dreamy synth loops, layering 808s under skittering insects, and pulling stray field recordings from my computer.

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missoula montana

30 December 2022

From Rapid City to Missoula

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rapid city south dakota

28 December 2022

Rapid city, South Dakota

11:11 pm

Driving back from Sally O’Mallie’s Pub and Casino, the weight of our decision to drive thousands of miles fell heavy on us. The early mourning enthusiasm accompanying our departure from Rochester, Minnesota had dissipated. In its place hung the smell of cows and manure, the open sky untouched by city lights, and the dread of another 9 hour drive.

Earlier in the day, passing the frozen Minnesota fields, the wind gathered snow into streams that flowed across the highway. The continuous gusts intensified the white river, obfuscating the road entirely. It was beautiful and threatening. An alien ground emerging from the asphalt. We drove suspended yet fixed to the ground, relying on the unchanging straight line of the road.

Alice gazed out the window. She remarked on the beauty of the windmills that populated the landscape. Their tenacious rotation the elevated compliment to what flowed beneath us. The windmills offered a welcome break from the icy fields. A verticality that dwarfed the grain silos and barns. Soon enough, there would only be the horizon slipping into darkness, a flat drive for hour and hours.

Some of our listening:

Sun Ra - Sleeping Beauty

Albert Ayler - Love Cry

XTC - Black Sea

Minutemen - Double Nickels on the Dime

New Order - Power, Corruption & Lies

Lucretia Dalt - ¡Ay!

TrueAnon - Bush Did 9/11 (part 1)

last christmas

25 December 2022

last christmas before our divorced sorority christianity between triffles and the holiday after i lost my license still don’t have a credit card we fell asleep in my absent grandparents’ twin bed why do you make me feel like it was a mistake to love you? when you snapped about the return date i left unspecified. a year later carving holiday designs into my damaged sexuality publicly on the northeast corridor i closed the door. tofurky daze mom needs space dad’s from outer space emotional management left me with the bill principle debt: fascist fiancés hollywood dreams cleaning cost for piss-stained floors hugging pillows under gnawing green snow shaped dollar slices thirty dollar tickets to half-baked ambition. now i need to pay. last christmas last thanksgiving last holiday i think i need some space

soft noise

9 December 2022

I lost my mind a bit this year. not that that is an unusual occurrence. everyone lost their mind a bit in 2020. 2021 embodied the reverberations of collective destabilization. this year, my off-kilter mental state started with a strike. my co-workers and I had been striking for ten weeks, reaching an agreement with our employer only after a nerve-wracking winter filled with insults and threats. the strike was a heartening display of a solidarity; it demonstrated material webs of support that subsist social and professional life.

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craigslist scammer

18 November 2022

march 2021 i’m selling my bedframe on craigslist. a buyer offers to mail me a check to pay for the movers. I accept. bounced checks, scams averted by cash app, my bedframe thrown out on the street.

maybe i’m too trusting, gullible, or naïve. but, in the moment, I just wanted to believe it would be that easy to get rid of the bedframe. but instead i abandoned it on 9th street, with whatever other objects i refused to carry to 13th.

a year later, much of what I did carry filled the 13th. i regret leaving behind a lamp from when i was a child, but it had been reduced to a broken pole connecting a colorful trio of bulbous lights. on 9th, still standing, it slanted over the steeped floor.