yespeas

 i was listening to my friend olivia's demo, " if you insist ," where she sings: when the shelves fell and i had to pick everything up i told you i was a shelf and you just said handle this i was a shelf and i was also myself and i fused into one  ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ this idea of body-as-container has been floating around my mind lately. everything that has ever occurred to us is imprinted in our body some way or another. relentlessly, our minds conjure people and memories from our past that feel almost as real as the present. i think about how i hold them all. it is as if i have a little knapsack in which my old friends & lovers reside, and whether or not I care to open my bag and lay everything out, i am still burdened (or delighted) by the weight of it inside.  olivia's shelf-self conjures up such a vivid image of how shelves often categorize each row into subject matter, a matter of association we tend towards ourshelves. the idea of the shelf also addresses presentatio...

you know, maybe i’m late to the wave, but i’m trying to exercise auditory nudity these days. meaning: i’m not wearing headphones when i’m outside. bonus points if i also don’t doomscroll or text people. i’m doing this for two reasons. the lesser one being that i’ve overdone my music lately (ie listening to okay kaya’s album watch this liquid pour itself for almost two weeks straight and before that strictly a meat computer & co playlist for three weeks). and sometimes you just gotta give your drums and brain a break.   the main, more profound reason is that i simply want to be exposed to the world —eavesdropping on bus conversations, complimenting people to strike up conversations, hearing whatever music is blasting out of someone’s backpack. your ears can’t be perked up if they’re imprisoned in their own padded room. ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬  (or lackthereof) when you walk around with no music, you open a mental space to be imposed upon, violated even. how else would i hear a kid ask ...