"writer's" block: title dump
"writer's" block: title dump
in which I force myself to publish something...anything...
Yesterday I delivered three urgent news updates to my roommate WHILE SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER:
Chloe Fineman is a Scientologist (?)
Kim is wearing that famous Marilyn Monroe dress. ps she can’t walk up the stairs
Oh, and Roe v. Wade has seemingly been overruled.
For some reason (chaos/fear/anger/dread) I can’t think in sentences, only semi-catchy (very ~liberal arts~) titles. I’m holding myself accountable by posting the only work I can today: draft titles from a hellish day
On “the Nose”
get it?
Essay about Bella Hadid and trying (but mostly failing) to reason with my big ‘ol pointy nose complex. I haven’t done enough (cringe) healing/growing/loving myself to say anything besides: blah blah liberal feminism blah blah Eurocentric beauty standards blah blah white supremacy. Important takes. Already published, praised, criticized, repeat. I deleted sentence after sentence because it felt sacrilegious (not in the cool fun way) to use radical terminology like Eurocentric and white supremacist, to convince myself (ostensibly white woman) to like myself more. Then I remembered Roe and Casey, and how abortion bans disproportionately affect women of color. (Wish I could say I bucked up and snapped out of it, but I did send some of my recent nanny money to The Lilith Fund.)
It’s That Time of the Album Cycle
cool girls (Middle School’s Version) still have bieber fever
Why did all (generalized, lower case, internet-all, not literal “all”) the popular girls(mean) from middle/high school go to various stops on the Justin Bieber tour? Nostalgia? Sure. Entertainment? I guess. Because he’s rigidly masculine (man only allowed to show womanly(weak) emotions if man is “man with guitar” or “man who can dance”)? Almost certainly. Or, is it because he models the picture perfect, straight, young, hip(not too hip), and straight...and young(not too young) relationship-marriage that promises to keep churning out socially liberalish, fiscally conservative Neo-liberals into the doo-dah global political collapse.
…something about coming of age…something about the good-boy, bad-boy, “good (Godly) man” roller coaster ride that has punctuated the lives of countless (MALE) pop culture icons.
Porn vs. Romance Novels
**StraightioLab’s Straight Shooters cadence** You have bewitched me body and soul OR Turn around, let me pound your hole????
I’ve got my fair share of shit to work through. However, it seems unlikely that I’m **snap** not depressed anymore; and, seems equally unlikely that I don’t experience (at least some, to the disappointment of my thoroughly dry-ing medication) lust/desire/horny-ness. Regardless, which option leaves me hating myself less? Porn makes me hate myself (morally, physically) but romance novels make me hate myself through the lens of every man-boy who has ever kissed me and not later professed his undying love.
Last year, after moving in with my parents post-grad, I got really into romance novels. Some of it was paper back erotica, but most of it was just PG-13 contemporary romance. Those pastel books with vague human figures doing a vaguely title-related activity made me feel more romantically inadequate and unloveable(the drama) than any subsequent shame from porn/jacking off (we should democratize jacking off. masturbation, tonally, feels like it has a ton of baggage). idk where this is going anymore…maybe less of an essay more of a therapy thing. but I hate making appointments. the drama never ends over here