7/21/2024.

today the sun shined. im traumatized but getting through it. ran into an old friend. read a bit. i love my friends. worked on music. im going to be alright. im a wonderful strange girl and i get to love wonderful strange girls.

nineteen. finished vilém flusser's writings

the tetra life will be a good life. tetra, although she is without true morals, flung into various corners of the earth, and still a small girl, is finding her footing for at least a little while. worried today. but tonight it is ok.

18th. july.

splendid isolation by warren zevon. what a song. what a truth. i stand on high buildings. im still unsure what love is exactly. vilém flusser i quote you.

love is trying to complete a circuit, it's trying to make two people share a mind for a little while. 

seventeenth the july.

people think a blog has to be long. it doesnt. i saw new primary care doc today. i got pastry. i called audrey. i made "music". hanging out with catherine. i need to apply to jobs. im just a doggy. sometimes short is good. it can store a lot of information.

16,

nitrous oxide. nyx texted. ears ringing. meet jackknife. no audrey call. album art. vc with catherine. idk what love is. tried waiting for winter for too long. my memory is pretty good honestly. i want to kiss my wife. if she even is my wife. idk what a wife is. i am tetra. i saw g-d's bones today. dental work does that. brush your teeth audrey. i love hot dogs.too eepy.

7/15/2024. hike today.

i think about art.

7/14/24: georgia o'keeffe accidentally.

on self reflection one must realize that while Man is thrown suddenly and rudely yet joyfully into the world the individual only gains awareness at no one point. one only remembers their birth by being told of it. a child learns how to remember slowly, how to view, these really are one in the same. by view i mean the attitude with which one approaches the world/other, the thing out there, the child teaches themselves this. of course they dont do this alone: they are assisted with other signals, but by virtue of having been born into a world which has the wreckage of the past and in a specific location of this wreckage they must contend with the signals that are nearby to craft their lens. talk of an essential humanness, quality, nature, etc will always fall short by virtue of having out there; past that-which-is another who does not share this base and essential quality. one only has an internal monologue if they have been taught that it is a base and essential quality of humanness. 

for americans, which is also almost all eight billions of us now, have been put into the wreckage of industrial reason atop the poetic glade (the poetic of course rests upon the mechanical reason which rests upon the holy poetic, and so on) to find their footing. one watches tv, one listens to radio (split into podcasts and instant music now), one reads books, etc to find their footing. and through this process everyone becomes a patriarch, a racist, a pedophile. of course this only matters if one acts upon these lenses, or rather is guided by them. 

one could imagine in the future that the signals will be more thoughtfully controlled. as one finds their footing then they would have only “beneficial” signals with which to guide them. this future i imagine would be a rather bland one, for art is one trying to find their footing, thus it references and alludes to other pieces (even rothko referred to other pieces when he used color, knowingly or unknowingly, but of course to say “the nature of art is…” is folly and anything that states “art is” should be read as “some amount of art is”). via this fact all art is built upon wreckage. 

wreckage contains within itself the past, a past of terrors. yet this does not define what is built utop it. art lays like the arles amphitheatre.

today i picked up meds, got some collage materials cut, hungout with robin, and kissed her goodnight after talking about ezra pound. we talked about art. it was cool.

made her this artpiece.