kellista: (Default)
"It is irrelevant to even talk of a core of Self when circumstances do not sustain its expression or development, when life has tampered with it and harmed it. Worrying about having a self is a luxury. But it is also a form of resistance."

What we hold in common: an introduction to working-class studies

--

I wish someone had given me "Proud to Work for the University" before I had ever felt duty or entitlement to set foot inside of one, a merit-scholarship-aided discombobulation into kinds of people and levels of debt I was too naive to even imagine. "My dad didn't work at a factory, he worked for the University - among artists, engineers, and scientists. The wonder, the absolute fortune, was that we were going to do our work in life with questions, theories, problems, and poems - not with our backs, not with our bleeding hands." Of course that was what I wanted! University - you'll love it so!

--

By which I mean to say I can't fucking wait for the Common Cause anarcho-communist day school in Hamilton in May. What is the work and how is it to be done?
kellista: (Default)
--

mental illness will probably kill me.

--

--

Issues of disability are not just questions of impairment, functional limitations, or enfeeblement; they are issues of social values, institutional priorities, and political will. They are questions of power: of who and what gets valued, and who and what gets marginalized.

--

make it pretty!
kellista: (Default)
YOUR OWN PERSONAL JUCHE -
REACH OUT AND TOUCH FATE

--



"Omar comin', yo!"

--

Sharing a home with 3 dogs including an unhousetrained six month old puppy named Emma "Smashy" Goldman, acquired on a drunken walk home from a New Year's Eve noise demo at the local jail as a 'present' for one of my roommates. Could syphilis be considered a present by the same logic? Ambling in on fawn legs?

One cat, six loosely affiliated anti-authoritarian roommates. Frequent vegan cupcakes, a book launch, a fine stoop in a historically dense neighbourhood. High definition documentaries, high definition David Attenborough. Let loose the dogs of jowl. Sadly, the stories still don't tell themselves. Watch me care paralyzed like a pinnaped poised on an inflated ball, unchanging. The best man for the job. Trained not only in daily struggle, but equipped for the battle royale and the future, when he is to assume his place in society as an intelligent, conscious being and useful producer, once capitalism is abolished.

--

P.S. Stuff I Make, Mtl Anarchist Bookfair, It is the year.
kellista: (Default)
i had a dream last night that i was visiting brigham young university where for some reason my brother and his kids lived but instead of mormons the place was inhabited by hedonistic nihilists.
kellista: (Default)
The facts are that on Friday 17 December I, [livejournal.com profile] kellista was lucky(?) enough to, with the aid of not only dental insurance but a surfeit of modern technologies and medicines of all kinds, lights flashing and steel glinting and vacuums and geysers being summoned, my friends, seemingly through the sheer power of human will -

I, I had two wisdom teeth extracted, friends, and it was via the power of gases and liquids and science and pressures of various kinds, friends, that I am able to speak with you at all -
But the healing process, in spite of these technologies, comrades, in spite of the inhaled gases and my willful and regularly timed shutting of my epiglottis to introduce the prescribed tylenol 3s into my esophagus and NOT my trachea, thereby excluding it entirely from the processing and absorption of opioids in any form -
You see, I'm getting all a-fluster here, dear friends, so a-fluster that the thing itself which I do always mean somewhere in my state to state clearly, well any one of a variety of states you understand

THE THING IS:
Besides removing two of my bony archaic mouth protrusions clearly these idol-like testaments to man and nature, these dental instruments, played a role in introducing one or more ((but at least one (presuming that's what successful infection of a body takes, who the holy hell do i know) evolutionarily sound "fighter" kind of a version - wow imagine your own body a battlefield, as it were, as if that image hasn't been recycled so far as a self help book or a fucking advice dog meme all over the place by now -

nlkh3rkfnckaz

The influenza virus is using my body to its own ends and I am losing my mind ovah heyah. Seriously - three days straight SLEEPING?!?! Who is supposed to NOT lose their shit under these circumstances?! Yeah. I of the normally (?) 60ish hour work week unceremoniously reduced to zero?! And no, I do not get 'sick days'. Hahahahahaha. Here insert a rude comment about how much I love that Greek anarchists hate the working class and the ruling classes with equal fervour. It is almost funny to listen to and or watch my depressive filters sieve through experiences and perceptions with near-perfect selectivity -

Like,

"Surely this this documentary on dog fighting will elevate me emotionally right now, because let's be Honest and Gentle with ourselves here, it HAS been a taxing time..."

I always knew Pixel suffered, somewhere deep in the pillowy recesses of his fuzzy white heart, from a dearth of "game". Maybe I'm afraid it's my own problem. Maybe it's exactly that which has allowed him to care for me, in his doggy way, this past week of wisdom-tooth-extraction-cum-influenza-influenced misery. Like, how couldn't the focussed licking of every square inch of unconscious kellyface in clockwork order not be the most caring way possible to spend your first waking half hour? I don't know, Pixel! Seems fair to me!! What's the anti-bloodsport, Mr. Pixel? Is that a compound concept? Am I awake now, better?

"What are you dreaming of, mistress [livejournal.com profile] kellista? the day that, together, we will rise again; spread a variety of pain to each of the four corners?"
kellista: (Default)
I'm sorry, I don't want to sound cynical and jaded, but language is not for informing. Language is for accusing, adumbrating, attacking, attracting, blustering, bossing, bullying, burbling, challenging, concealing, confusing, deceiving, defending, defocusing, deluding, denying, detracting, discomfiting, discouraging, dissembling, distracting, embarassing, embellishing, encouraging, enticing, evading, flattering, hinting, humiliating, insulting, interrogating, intimidating, inveigling, muddling, musing, needling, obfuscating, obscuring, persuading, protecting, rebutting, retorting, ridiculing, scaring, seducing, stroking, wondering...Oh, you fools who think languages are vehicles for permitting a person who is aware of some fact to convey it clearly and accurately to some other person. You simply have no idea.

Geoffrey Pullum
kellista: (Default)
o god there's a reissue of pretty hate machine. why is winter doing all these things to me? I AM TRYING, lord thundering fuck it.

--

oh, the prospect of therapy. apart from the inherent joy of anticipating the spillage one's deepest, most hateful, and most irrational stances and insecurities to a professionally distant stranger - for (lots of) money (squee!) - is the true fact that if any practice has any hope of doing anything nondestructive it will require the willing suspension of disbelief during both the search for an available listener who is not a total hopesucking axe-murder-worthy twat and during the thing itself.

oh, embedded clauses. is there any idea you can't obfuscate?

--

i was gonna say that julian assange needs to set up an al-qaeda-style training camp in some failed state (where do i sign up?!), but apparently i'm behind the times in both style and necessity. wicked.

--

i take as truth that it is foolish to a) let our hangups abort something so scintillating and b) to live as if these hangups do not exist and influence how we perceive and interact with each other. i'm learning to be okay with the fact that whatever pathetic and weak shit i spew, volcanolike, from time to time will influence what the people i care about think of me. i just hope the pathetic and weak shit is appropriately tempered (why, i'm doing it right now!) by vaguely fun, insightful, or worthwhile shit. it's all shit, in the end, is what i'm saying. i want your shit, do you want mine?

god. what else is there?
kellista: (Default)
"When it's good it's really really good; when it's bad it's mad shitty."
kellista: (Default)
how many times can i listen to this cover? the upper limit is so far uncertain, but i feel confident in asserting that the answer is many.

edit: whatever, [livejournal.com profile] quining, do you really think a wiki is the best arbiter of taste?
kellista: (Default)
i know i was born to live a life
of murder strife and misery
when i find it i know i'll make sense of me

i want to be cool tall vulnerable and luscious
i would have it all if i only had this much
no need for lucifer to fall if he only kept his mouth shut

i would be involved be involved be involved..
kellista: (Default)
why have i had a headache for 2 days? why does my meagre to-do list feel like a ball and chain? i am trying my best to chalk up the way i'm feeling to a grey time of year that historically has me battling with negativity. self, world, future. there is no need to believe that it will spiral into anything majorly catastrophic. i am a grown-up now (?) with a degree of agency. i am shocked that some people dislike getting older, which despite meaning that at any given time I have spent more time living with the subjective experience of being me than at prior given times, i on the whole do not mind. Experience accumulates! How wonderful is that?! grim little tears as i stalk the danforth i-love-to-hate, annoying myself with the haunted empty look that i can't even see but can feel projecting outwards. as much as i try to reduce cognitive dissonance ("why, depression has only made me STRONGER and MORE RESILIENT and COMPASSIONATE *tobacco-y guffaw/derisive snort*") it really, really does suck to live it and i will take this feeling as some bud screaming to be nipped. i swear that there must be other authentic non-lying-to-oneself experiences that are unshitty and unselfdestructive. yes?

i, for example, would really like to go to nursing school. i just love corporeality, you know? it's harder to work based on pretense and trying to read people's minds and false beliefs when oh-my-god-it's-blood-and-guts. priorities arrange themselves. life triage! i am not going to avoid this based on fear. fear is a poor reason to do or not-do. i am afraid that this is determining my actions. look at those technical-fabric-clad yuppies. do you think they let fear determine their lives?

umm. that was rhetorical, actually? it's a JOURNAL, people, mmkay?


_handy tips to feel worse_

1. take everything personally.

a) feeling unacknowledged by your employer/peers? surely its one of many deep personal flaws that they have caught on to. you are lucky that they keep you on at all. best to tread lightly and remain quiet, competent, and sad. people love that shit!!

b) intimate or familial relationships? yeah, the problem is you. congratulations. oh, it's not fleeting or malleable or a matter of poor choices or not considering the facts. it's your character, determined by biology and accumulated experience, and you can't go back. smiley face.

2. ignore objective hints of goodness in favour of the worst possible interpretation of everything. trust me, there are some evil evil thoughts floating in the ether. its a matter of selectivity and an admirable if ill-placed focus.

3. never forget that you are a self-centred ass. the koreas are going to war, ass. don't you know how privileged you are? (those yuppies at '100 mile child' just worked much, much harder over the years. way to ruin your own life.)

omg it's all i ever talk about; this is sooooo my field of expertise. well. this and inconsistent capitalization. you know what's hilarious? i am the oldest child of working class depressed dad and borderline (i know, it's evil but a handy shorthand for anybody who Knows), unemployed mother and my sister has been fucked and on disability for years and i am therefore the Great White Hope!! this is going down obama-style, i see it more and more clearly as my term at the helm of my mind marches ever onwards.

free wi-fi is basically the shit. and so often concatenated with coffee!!!! i never have to think the better of anything ever again! what was i thinking not buying a laptop during all those years of underemployment and dysfunctionality?
kellista: (Default)
just made a sit-upon, brownie-style. realising my failure to properly thank colonialism for the mad skill training back in 1987.
kellista: (Default)
Oh, you hate your life? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar.

I smoke cigarettes as a suggestion. As a hint, a note, an implication that I don't care about society. About life in general. About my lungs, about health, about the world. I smoke cigarettes to say "fuck you". Nothing determines who we will become so much as those things we choose to ignore. I am not totally out of whack, but I am running dangerously low.

kellista: (Default)
i guess i function best as the opposite of a fair-weather friend - a foul-weather friend? i have no idea what to make of this.
Page generated Oct. 17th, 2017 07:38 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios