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Friday, July 18
answers to ?6 of the shwee shwee piss jam on the lawn '08
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
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.
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