Frohe Weihnachten yall! This year I’m celebrating Christmas. Not bullshit capitalist consumerism Christmas, or imaginary baby messiah story turned capitalist consumerism Christmas. I am consciously and purposely rewriting this season for my own enjoyment. I want to tie sparkly lights and colors and reindeer shit to the feeling that I’ve been hoarding since I arrived here. Magic. It’s mine and I want to feel a flood of nostalgia for it every time I see a damn Christmas tree. Fuck all the past traumas that have made me hate the season for most of my life. Delete, rewrite. My fucking story.
On the bullshit capitalist consumerist note, however, I did buy myself a Christmas present. (Not really, just coincidentally timed) I wasn’t able to bring any of my paints to Germany- you can’t ship them. It was alright, I haven’t been painting so much in the last couple years. But I am feeling it right now. So a nice bare bones setup is headed my way. Luckily I’ve been homeless/poor/starving most of my painting career, so I only need six colors and a canvas to do what I need to do.
Six colors and a canvas. That would make a good book title.
Speaking of, I also have tentatively started another poetry book. The first was all about fucking the idea that your output has to be “good” in order to justify doing the thing. Do it anyway. The poetry is not great and the illustrations aren’t either. But it’s a goddamn achievement that I am so fucking proud of.
The next book project is an adventure in simplicity. So many of the poems in Rohheit were built around a couplet- I felt like I needed to make a ‘real’ poem out of a little two liner that I really liked. Here I’m abandoning that. We’re going to hike through my twisted shit two lines at a time, however they stand. I’m not sure how long this one will be, or what kind of illustrations may come with- but I’m letting go of another societally instilled “rule’ about how I should make things. We’ll see what happens.
With razor blades All art is made
Go make some magic, bitches.