||||\\\\\|||||||\/\\\|\|\\\\|||||\\\\|||\
|||||||\\\\\|\\\\\\|||||||||||||||||||||||||\\\
\\|||||||||||\\\|\\\///||///|||||||||||||||\\
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||\\||\\||\\\||\\\\||||
\\\///\\\\\|||\\\\||||||\\\\|||||||||||\|

 

the passage below, i.e. the previous post, was written by
Prince Rogers Nelson
we met once, last winter, in an airport.
he in transit to Monaco
myself in transit to Maccau
i asked him if he meant what he said in the poem and he
replied,
"never take me for granted my daughter,
i know you wish you were..."

 

the whore is a queen, her throne a ruin

her land a piece of shitty field

her sceptre a purse of red patent leather:

she barks in the night,

dirty and ferocious as an ancient mother:

she defends her possessions and her life.

the pimps swarming around

bloated and beat

 

 

It has also interfered with my ability to enjoy normal sex. I start to find it dainty and polite and boring

it is the fact that i deny my homosexuality.
i live openly as a gay man, but inside i deny it.
i cannot fully explain it. but i do.
i feel guilty about it, i supress my desires.
i torture myself and hurt others.
i cannot let myself be in a happy relationship.
i'm in love with another boy.
and i know i will not spend my life at his side.

this is my deepest perversion.
i feel it is a crime against humanity. no one should feel this way.
no one.

I am overly polite to people so they don't mind me breathing the
air so maybe he won't notice.   I don't want them to be upset at me
inhaling the oxygen they wish the dead loved one could have instead.  I
apologize to the person ignoring my existence in the cross walks the
hallways the sidewalks the couches the bed rooms the waiting rooms, the
overly huge campuses the cubicle the bathroom the counter  the line and
the bus when they are rudely awakened to my presence.  I send angry
prayers of desperate longing to them in millionths of seconds. People I
don't know seem to know me and the familiarity breeds contempt.  People
say things about me I can't hear.  People  I have never interacted with
say things about me at me in the plasma extraction room that echo
feelings I have about myself while in the plasma room and I write about
it on livejournal.  A  particularly nasty coworker from three years ago
said something identical to something a friendly acquaintance said
right before I came here the first with contempt the second with
possessed conviction about their visions of my future.  left me feeling
perverted on both occasions.


I don't feel good or bad, I feel a corporeal bond to everything as
if my experience here some kind of hoax.  He should have been the only
son. Sometimes its hard to be calm.  Especially these days with all the
booze. Its not really a question for me will it burn?  no.  should it
burn?  mmmmmm

My deepest perversion is watching women urinate. Its not about the pee.
I'm not into golden showers or anything like that. This fetish usually
only applies to a romantic partner or close female friend. I feel no
attraction to strangers doing anything, especially peeing. I once had a
girlfriend who would take me to the bathroom every single time she
would pee, inluding the middle of the night when i was sleeping. My
most intent vice is rootbeer. I feel good about both.

 

Untitled«, 2008 by Igor Eskinja.

 

AT (on) THE MERCH PAGE
ARE (IS)
ONE OF A KIND
SHIRTS
(maybe KINDA PRICEYooooooooooooooo
TOO MUCH?)
THAT
I MADE
IF YOU ARE
INTERESTED
( JUST SO YOU KNOW )
I SAID BEFORE THEY WERE NOT UP
BUT TIMES HAVE CHANGED!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i

 

where one could find any soundtrack recordings by
fumio hayasaka
(the teacher of toru takemitsu)
in particular
"ugetsu" (but anything would be great or greta)
xoxoxooxoxoxoxo
caw caw

 

 

CHECK IT OUT YO.

 

i unlock thee, my secret pink darkness and plead with myself to allow for more...
blemish, carnality,
corruption, crime,
defect, depravity,
evil, failing,
fault, flaw,
foible, immorality,
imperfection, iniquity,
shortcoming, sin,
weakness, wrong


what is your deepest perversion or most intent vice?
do you feel good about it or bad about?

if you send an answer to willitburn@hotmail.commoc.liamtoh@nrubtilliw
i may post it at xiuxiu.orggro.uixuix

 

http://youtube.com/watch?v=mhg9ZJnh91g&feature=related

 

Ok I know you asked this a long time ago but I like the question so I'm going to answer it anyway.
I have a very strange body. It's mostly made up of skin and bones.. People used to ask me if I was anorexic because I've always been so thin. But I'm not. I love food so much! Anyway, Sometimes I like how strange and angular my limbs look, like something in an Egon Schiele drawing. But other times I see my reflection in a window and it's pretty alarming to see my strangely long neck awkwardly lurking foward. Another thing that's very distinct about me is that I have very big eyes. Not only that but they have very dark circles around them that never go away. Sort of menacing.. But usually I cover them up with makeup to look less like a crackwhore.. haha.
Something very confusing is that in recent years I 'grew a butt', or so my friends tell me-- where once there was none. It's more comfortable to sit on, now, anyway.

i hate my sternum. whereas most people's sternums are flat, or a little concave, mine is convex - it sticks out in the center, and although it's not too noticeable when wearing a not-too-tight shirt, it's painfully obvious when i'm shirtless (i've heard it referred to as pigeon chested, i think). I've spoken to doctors about it and actually contemplated corrective surgery, but they would have to cut open my chest to fix it, leaving me with scars that would be worse than the offending bone. I recently started working out, trying to build up enough chest muscle to hide it - even though a doctor told me when i was younger that i couldn't put too much muscle on because the strain against my ribcage could cause it to collapse, i've decided to ignore his warnings (i think he was a bit of a quack anyway). i also don't trim my chest hair, hoping that the hair will hide it.

 

 

hellola
there are new items on the xiuuix merch page
they were supposed to as well put some art shirts i made but alas
sometimes they just don't
but sometimes they put up and out out things that i did NOT send either
like
umm
well
no
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

 

sometimes i hate my body, the most of the time i do
not like it. little sad brests, tired belly from neverending diet...,
feet that they walk every time in different way and so on and so on and
so on....and it is so fuckin lonely and sometimes i punish my body and
cut it but sometimes i just feel sorry for my body because i shuldnt
blame it for anything...sometimes me and my body is like two different
persons...personality of our body!!!strange!!!! last times i want to
look like japanees person and i dont know why. i wish never ever hear
from anybady with who i am in bed and in front of who i am without
clothes that something is wrong with me. oh fuck why do i write about
this things?????

The torso confuses me. Well it all confuses me: limbs, head, and torso. But it is an accepted confusion for the former two. For the former two, I don't know what others think, and I'm not sure what I think myself, but it doesn't matter to me. I've decided that they are nice enough for public display; I've no choice in this heat. The torso though...it is always hidden, so I can never know what others think. I can hardly know what I think. I like the hair, I hate the shape, I like the color, I hate the blemishes. What I like and hate doesn't make a difference though if I'm afraid to show it all at all. So the torso is confusing. I want to be okay with it, but I feel like that would be abnormal, not my torso itself. I need to exercise more. I lost 5 pounds but gained it back. I somehow summoned the courage to go to the beach with my friends. One of them told me I had big nipples.


The one thing I remember most about my mother is that she was cloaked with moles. Real moles, the kind that jut out from the skin and dark hairs sprout from, the kind you see on the noses of witches in movies--only my mother was a pretty woman. Just a pretty woman covered in moles. She would spend hours plucking hair from her moles every night at the mirror, so her moles were often enflamed. There were a gaggle of moles on her neck, right above where a collar would cover them, one on her forehead and a smattering up and down both of her arms. As a child I thought they were disgusting, so stark next to her pale skin, but was becoming aware as I grew older that my own small, flat "beauty marks" were growing larger and more unsightly-- I knew that I too would be cloaked with moles in time. I think the exact day it dawned on me that this would be a problem was when the little catty brunette who lived next door to me poked one of the primordial moles on my elbow and said it wasn't a "beauty mark" but an "ugly mark." Once puberty hit, they just seemed to pop up all over my skin, some large, others small, but in great quantities that swathed my back, stomach, legs--one grew on my breast that I was so sure would be mistaken for a third nipple it took me 2 years of college and a bottle of jack to finally take my shirt off for someone. I tried getting some removed, but since this was some years ago the tactics were a bit undeveloped, and in lieu of the moles that once lined my jaw line I now have strange, purplish scars resembling some very odd burns. Sometimes when I'm bored I take a sharpie and draw lines in between the moles on my arms and pretend they are constellations. I told one lover that if traced properly, the moles on my back marked the map to the free world. I put some really ridiculous tattoos over others.

The largest, most misshapen and hairy moles are on my chest, right above my breasts and below the throat, right where pendants of necklaces are supposed to lay. My moles confuse me. Why did they come here and colonize my skin? Why does hair grow from them? To keep them warm? I cut off one with a pocket knife when I was 15 and it grew back larger and more deformed, just to spite me. I fear my moles may someday grow cancer and kill me in rebellion for being treated so poorly, with so much shame.

teeth confuse the shit out of me.
you'd think since they've been around for so long they'd figure out how to grow in correctly,
yet everyone has braces.
well, i don't. but a lot of people do.
and my wisdom teeth are growing in sideways, says the doctor?
what the fuck?

when i look in the mirror i see a distorted view of my completely strange body. i spend a lot of time worrying about my butt. my giant panda hips and little crow chest. the left side of my face is much prettier than the right. my back is covered in red dots from hell. im truly worried that no one will ever accept me for these things again. i have ruined my chances at not being completely alone.


i am not circumsized and as a child this came as a source of great confusion for me. i thought it was something genetic, for me to have this wrinkly flap that the other boys didn't when we got undressed for the swimming unit in gym. but my dad didn't have it either. i wanted to ask if my grandpa did before the heart attack. but i've found that now this is an o.k. thing and i have a lover who does not care.

also, i swear i have thunder thighs. but i'm biking now. i'm working on it.


My eyes, regardless of how good I feel or what chemicals I smear on them, continuously carry large dark circles underneath. I am always having to answer people's questions that I'm not ill or tired or hung over, just born that way. When people take my picture and I have a genuine smile on my face, I still look like I've been up all night worrying about nuclear winter.

Also, if you haven't read Ray Kurzweil's The Age of Spiritual Machines, it contains a pithy but excellect recounting of the mind-body paradox, as well as points out the likely eventuality that we will all be cyborgs and our bodies will become as interchangeable as rolls of toilet paper.


My facial hair confuses me. Starting at my chin and going down, I have full facial hair. Apart from that, I have a pubescent-esque crustache and some mole hairs on my cheek. The mole hairs freak me out so much that I pluck them. I now have a neurotic obsession with plucking my mole hairs.

no blood to my limbs
pins and needles will prickle
touching without touch

I am most confused about my voice.
People say 'madam' to me on the phone. People ask me if my father is home on the phone.
Aparently I sound like a scared little girl, while I have strong jaw lines
and broad shoulders. meh.


Why oh why oh why,

My body is strong, My body is quick, I am agile and ever limber, I can actually run and lift things up and look like a man man...But, whenever I try to play a group sport, I am the slowest, dumbest and most absent minded person alive. I can NEVER grasp wich direction I am supposed to run, or calculate where the ball will land, or why the fuck I agreed to do this to myself.

Also- I can assemble my rifle super quick, using ninja like muscle memory, but I don't know how to dance in front of people without feeling nervous enough to shit my pants.

And- I don't get those bus erections, why does my body feel so aroused, whenever I put it on a bus.

 

i can't wait to see you

 

http://www.yeondoojung.com/artworks_view_wonderland.php?no=88

 

it is the end

 

I
SAW
A
BALD
EAGLE
TODAY
FLYING
IN
THE
SKY

 

i have a funny face. in certain photos it looks peevish and ugly and in others it looks overly hostile and gaunt. in some it looks comically handsome and amusingly heroic.
it does not rest easily on my skull.
my skull in fact is made of sugar and wax though so the only thing that does rest easily on it is bugs.
my skin is like this too. parts of it are actually gross and pale and red and bumpy. i hate to see it. i hate to live in it.
parts of it are smooth and feminine and i wish it covered my whole body in this way. i love to dream an impossible dream.
so uneven. so putrid and so touchable depending on the approach one takes.
at once icky barf and yummy vain...
what about your body confuses you?


if you answer this question and then email that answer to willitburn@hotslutmail.com
i may post your reply on the xiuxiu.ugh donut blog.

 

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Rose


like FGT:

Members also began leaving piles of leaflets in public places.

 

 

I might have already posted this link on here. I can't remember.

THIS.

Look him up if you don't know: Felix Gonzalez Torres.

I am trying to collect as many envelopes as I can for this project before THURSDAY, so if you want a free FGT candy, send me a SASE.

 

 

The gold ink looks amazing on the Japanese version of Women As Lovers CD

 

i am so drunk. where is everyone? what is going on? should i go on tour? fuck the polaroid projects, if i go on tour i will ask people to bring in throwaway cameras. fuck it all. that will be better. don't have to worry about the burden of the image. just take a photograph that is it. where are you now? oklahoma? the mission? new york? ches smith, i want $150000000 worth of brooklyn pizza. Caralee, i want $4000000 worth of mission pies. Jamie, I want dubu and panchan. Devvvvvvvvvvvv I want anarchism in the form of open spontaneity. what i want is not satisfaction, it isn't money, it isn't boredom, it isn't berlin, it isn't anything. all i want is a fuckying koi pond.

 

Randomly ran across this in an English bar last week.

 

to the castle and to the meadow,
there is not a pounding which can
flatten you nor
is there an upheavel which can furrow thee.
tears tears of sorrow tears tears of hope
thank you!!!!!!
!!!!!!! and see you soon enough





good bye kay

good bye john

good bye brenda

good bye george

good bye the maestro

good bye jen

good bye matthew

good bye wilbert

good bye d. chun

good bye caralee

good bye julie

you don't need that bike kelson

 

It was a big relief to me when I discovered I was a furry. It is a part of my life that I had no idea existed but feels so good. I will go to a convention and it will feel like I am going home.

maybe this is late but its a great relief to me that im a stupid gay baby and i can just tell yuou instead of writing a ridiculous poem

(I already typed this once, but I accidentally pulled the plug out of
my ancient laptop whilst chasing a moth around my bedroom and now I
can't really remember what I said... maybe the moth was sent to
prevent me from making an idiot of myself via the internet ((again??))
It happens too much. The Moth is dead now and I am full of guilt!)
Anyway:

(I have an eating disorder, but sssh)
A great relief to ME is when no-one (ever ever) asks me about it. When
nobody asks me why. When it doesn't even register. When no-one notices
how weird I'm acting, etc etc etc (When people finally give up on me.
Ha ha ha.) I know I sound completely tragic in a
super-lame-kind-of-way when I say that, but I am so, so bored of
myself. Right now, distracting (in ANY way) from the issue, rather
than addressing it, is the greatest relief (ever ever) from my stupid
self.

Does that even make sense? Have I missed the point?
Oh, wise moth... why didn't I take heed..

http://garfieldminusgarfield.net/


what relieves me: jerking off, anonymous/internet hookups, smoking cigarettes, smoking weed, listening to xiu xiu


I'm scared saying something is a great relief, because then soon enough, cynicism and disbelief will start gnawing away at that too...
But if I have to say something is a great relief to me, i'd have to say it's the fact that I can make art...
What else can take me away from the dull time I have as a soldier, or the failing two-week relationships I lead, or the fact that i'm just another homo, or the fact my friends don't really know me, or that my parents are'nt happy.... that I live in a small sad town.... that i'm growing older and lonlier, or that I'm severly depressed?

I guess it's the fact, that i can allow myself to believe that oneday, someone will look at the stuff I make, and say wow... you're an amazing person, I know everything about you and I still want to be with you.

But then again, it could all be rubbish, and I could turn up looking like some dumb angsty teen.



Sparks above, power sky high
in the USA, i am alive
wild fires, grow
its raining, death from above
in iraq, i am a lie
it's war on terrorism
historically war on us
putting out a fire with gasoline
sarcastic relief, hope in force breading more
undefeated despair

but i have this disabled veteran's umbrella
and i know where i got it and what its good for
i found this on the empty souls highway
the pavement first made for assault tanks
I'm hopeful this rain will end
its a relief i have more than hope to make it

this country's obssion with power and death
so i am American i am tired being
pessimistic so capitalistic
i start to think
what gives me great relief
its feeling the line between laughing and crying
its the music of my independence
its not believing in lines on a map
to grow beyond
undefeated despair
i shave my head for life not death

 

yes and maybe!

haha, fill in the blanks!


- d