[Love.] // The Prelude

 

You are so strongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks they’re dead
– Sonnet 112
x

 

I’ve been wondering how to write about this for the longest time. And I mean the longest time. A lot of my work is tinged with love, or the lack thereof, so why haven’t I said a word on it? I talk about it and I feel it. Hopefully you can feel it when I write about it.

But what is it? What is love?

I’ve had to split this into an indefinite series; I don’t know how many posts it’ll spill over; if it’ll even spill over (it definitely will). I don’t know if I’ll reach a conclusion, but I don’t think there is a conclusion to be reached. I don’t know if it’ll be anything more than waffle, because love is simultaneously the easiest and most difficult thing to talk about.

When I think about love, an indescribable feeling washes over me; the closest I can think of being warmth, but specifically the warmth of an everlasting glow. Sometimes it can feel clinical, but I’ll come to that later.

I think of a colour that I can’t bring to fruition in my mind. The colour I’m thinking of doesn’t exist, but I can feel it. If I had to pick a colour on the known spectrum, maybe it would be a deep red. Wine red. For passion and fierce loyalty. But sometimes it’s yellow, for family and joy. For innocence. It might be white, for purity, untouched by the hues of any colour. Or black, for the endless pit of despair and heartbreak into which it can send you.

It is every shade of every colour because it lives in the crevices of everything around us; it cannot be defined by one single thing. Love is all we have left when everything else in the world disappears.

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(Anti) Feminism, part 3 – The Phenomenon of the ‘Pick-Me’

 

 

Ah yes. We have reached the end of this angry rant with my favourite topic.

Not least because I am, by the standards of Twitter’s feminists, a big fat, giant, massive pick-me.

I don’t believe pick-me exists in the Oxford dictionary, but by and large it refers to a woman who doesn’t hate men (and vice-versa, but I can only speak from the perspective of a straight woman).

You defend men, believe they have feelings and should be looked after the way women are? Pick me! You want to look after your man; you want to show him love, cook for him, and do nice things for him? Absolutely a pick me, disgusting! For shame! You like men for their personality and their character, rather than their money, clothes, possessions etc? Ew, I hope he picks you sis. You don’t want all men to die? On God, we gon’ get someone to pick you.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? That’s because it is.

The only anti-pick-me narrative I agree with is that of a woman actively bashing other women for the approval of men. Being snide, bitchy, and unnecessarily rude just to get a few laughs out of men; laughing when a man hurts a woman who has done nothing wrong; supporting an abuser just because you think he’s sexy. Purposely putting other women down and trying to make yourself look better. That’s a real ‘please pick me, I’m different to the other basic bitches. I’m so much cooler and better than them, please pick me, they’re all ugly ogres and I’m so different to the rest; you’ll never find another girl like me, I promise you that. You’ll be thinking about me when you’re with her lol I’m so different, I leave a mark on people.

But obviously, people have watered this down to suit their own agenda, and now pick-me generally refers to a woman who apparently does and says things as a mating call, because we obviously don’t have our own brains, and everything we do in life is solely in the quest to attain male approval. Which is very telling for the people who use the phrase. What a phenomenon.

I want to dissect it and destroy it.

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PSA: Social media is fucking you up

Out of touch with reality hoes

“Every form of addiction is bad , no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine, or idealism.”

 – Carl Gustav Jung

 

Imagine you sign a contract with a ghost, in which that ghost fucks you in the ass very violently all day every day for years in return for some meaningless validity. You forget about it until one day you just feel a gaping void down there and you urgently need to fill it with some toxic ghost dick even though it’s ruining your life now that you are aware you need it in order to feel normal and validated. That ghost dick, my friend, is social media.

Fuckin’ you in the ass as you read this.

I think I wrote something about social media a long time ago, both pros and cons. Of course, I’m a lot older and inevitably bitter now, which means my sentiments towards social media have become… hostile. I’m frequently talking a lot of shit on Twitter and posting pictures nobody wants to see on Instagram. I’m not old enough for Facebook yet because I don’t have friends with babies (step on it girls, yeah?) But the past few months I’ve been disgusted with social media despite being very active on it and I’m just.. sick of it. I’m sick of it all and I want to disappear off the internet.

In the grand scheme of things, social media is great, considering how far we’ve come in the world.

One of the best things is how easy it is to find information that mainstream news outlets won’t tell you – not in a timely manner, anyway. You can find out exactly whats going on in most parts of the world. Had we only the BBC and the Sun to give us information, we’d be perfectly ignorant, brainwashed individuals fitting for an Orwell novel. Probably racist too. But we have Twitter to spread videos of racist police officers, we have viral pictures of mutilated babies and children as a result of angry men in high places, we have pictures and videos of destroyed buildings in the Middle East, we have posts about developed and beautiful places in Africa and Asia where our old racist school teachers had us believe it was all barren and everyone was starving to death. We have pictures of missing children with contact details, and a simple click of a button from a few hundred people has helped find them. We know more about what’s going on in other parts of the world because we hear from people in other parts of the world; gaining information is easier, and it’s harder to excuse racism and xenophobia. Information is fed to us, we don’t need to dig deep for it anymore.

Social media allows people to go viral, it allows small businesses free advertisement and that’s beautiful. I’ve seen people successfully share their art, their photography, their writing, their messages. We have instagram, which helps keep us momentarily happy because of fire memes. The little things, you know? It helps you meet like minded people, might meet the love of your life, it helps keep friendships alive and hanging by a thread, but thats about where the positives come to an end. Now I can complain.

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The clock ticks life away [Hey Assbutt]

I’m trying something new out.
This is a Hey Assbutt, but supercharged.
Contrary to Instagram’s beliefs, I don’t smoke all the time. In fact I hardly ever do, and I always leave at least a few days in between because it fucks with my mood. But whenever I do, I like to smoke alone. It’s my chill time, it’s not a social activity for me. Unless I’m close with you, I probably won’t want to smoke with you. I don’t like doing it in public places, I don’t like doing it prior to a public activity (i.e eating at a restaurant), because the whole point is for me to relax. Smoking and then doing something anxiety inducing defeats the purpose. I usually spend the time listening to music, eating, and then probably napping before I sober up. Sometimes I’ll even write some bullshit, as I have done here; I guess the ‘new’ thing here is bullshitting the high thoughts I have. Right now I wanna bitch about what is probably the most important thing to me: time.
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My intuition is telling me there'll be better days [Things we're leaving in 2018]

Number one: calling yourself a blogger when you only write blog posts once every few months haha fuck those guys haha.
Anyway, I feel like I have to end 2018 with a post in my true fashion. By telling you about things that get on my tits and asking you to stop doing them. And nobody is going to listen anyway, so watch this space for the exact same post, word for word, in 12 months. There’s a lot of swearing in this one, hold tight.
Disclaimer: when I say ‘we’ or ‘us’ or ‘our’ throughout this post,  I don’t mean myself because, of course, I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean u man.
1] Filming our generosity Read more

Damn what a pity fam [10 hard truths]

Haha, is that me?
I’ve been so busy recently, but at the same time… not. I’ve been speaking to more people, landing myself in new situations and, more often than not, have been increasingly finding myself staring into an imaginary camera. Some days I’m Jim. Other days I’m Michael. But most days I’m Jim. I am, however, always Patrick Bateman… And Dwight.
There are things I believe that I thought were common sense, but obviously not. I quit my job, I reconnected with people, I decided I was gonna be done with bullshit once and for all, and, as of recently, have decided to become the me I always tried to be. Uncensored and transparent. You thought you liked me before, wait till you see me now!!!!!!!
So I guess this post is inspired by the reason I have so many frown lines, and the reason I look into the aforementioned imaginary camera. Sometimes you just want to pick someone up and shake them and scream ‘I JUST WANT WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU’ but you can’t because you’re 5″2, so you have to settle with a rant on WordPress.
Let’s go, the clock is ticking.
Institutional education doesn’t make you a better or a worse person  Read more