One last post to round out the night. Preferably read while listening to Melanie Martinez’s “Mad Hatter.”
Along with being adventurous and mentally ill, I’m a bit eccentric.
I always have been. I was a sickly, skeptical, precocious child. As children, my sister and I used to strip our Barbies naked, pull off their heads, and switch them with each other’s. We thought it was really funny. Then we ran off to cheat at Yu-Gi-Oh with each other and play dinosaurs.
I had a porcelain doll collection as a kid. I liked their creepy, staring blank eyes. There were hundreds of them and they were strategically positioned all over the room so that no matter where you were, they were watching you.
I was an awesome little kid.
I think if I ever got over my impatience and embarrassment, I’d be an awesome artist. I have really cool, very detailed images and ideas. Like, the other day I was in the shower and I started imagining: What if at the end of a man’s dick there was a hole, and there were little greenish-yellow tentacles hidden inside the hole, and they could lash out and grab people Cthulhu-style? (Dicks are so interesting from an aesthetic perspective.)
I get lots of weird, kinda avant-garde ideas like that. One thing I discovered in the bath as a kid is that if you submerge your ears underneath water, but not your full face, point a fan above your face, and make vowel sound movements with your mouth, you can hear a certain sound underneath the water. Your silent mouth makes sound. I’ve always wanted to find a way to record it and make an entire musical album consisting of variations on that sound, overlaid with distant dream-like screams and laughter.
Many of my stories and poems face concepts like death and separation in (hopefully) new and interesting ways. I confront both subjects rather fearlessly.
I wrote a short story in high school that won a couple of awards. It was entitled “Apple Juice Pods and the Green Tongue.” It involved strip lights on the ceiling turning into giant blue winged centipedes, and zombies with green tongues, and upside down spaceships that could entrap people inside them and save people from the zombies. The spaceship pods ran off of green apple juice – green because it came from green apples.
A lot of people ask me if I’m on drugs when I talk about stuff like that. I’m not. That’s just how I am. I’ve only ever been on a psychedelic trip once, and during it lots of weird shit happened. Books started flying at me from the wood grains on a bookcase. I became convinced I had a psychic connection to a painting. And I started coming up with all these weird art ideas: like, for example, making self-energizing fairy lights in a mermaid fishnet formation to hang over a girl’s hair as a kind of fashion statement or decoration.
I’m attracted to the beautifully bizarre. I love Beautiful Bizarre magazine, avant garde art, The Twilight Zone, and other assorted strangeness. In Blade Runner, the mentally disabled man’s apartment fascinated me aesthetically. It was the best. I have a love for the Addams and the Munsters. And in the book I’m reading right now, Moonglow, the grandmother’s horror aesthetic and her bizarre artist’s studio seem so beautiful to me.
I wear all black and I am unashamed.
I’m proud of the weird parts of me. I think they make me more interesting.