S P E C T R A L P R O J E C T I O N

michigan expat with kentucky roots. i write a perzine called ghost lungs & i live on the east coast with a gray cat named simone de beauvoir. if you know me irl, please ask before following me here.

the thing is that it’s easier to say that it’s my fault, because if it isn’t my fault then that means that i couldn’t control it, that i couldn’t make it not happen. (“it” is a lot of things, sometimes it is only that i can’t get out of bed. i don’t want to think about why.) i wonder if i’ll ever not be this way. it’s qualitatively better, and yet. my shrink told me to try and think about a good thing about being here, or about starting t (?). the only thing i can come up with is: i’m not dead. i hate spelling it all out because it’s way too honest, but it’s hard to figure out what to do. i’m tired. spite is a good motivator but it can only carry me so far.

everything comes down to a stupid truism. like. #it’s hard to be a body in space. i fell on my face getting on the bus one morning this week. no one on the bus acknowledged that it happened, except the driver who said: you can take your time. i couldn’t stop laughing anxiously. (what else is there to do?) i sat down next to an older man who said: at least you can laugh about it. a couple weeks ago, a girl in my program that lives in my building invited me over for tea. i told her (i don’t remember why it came up) that i thought it was a funny gay joke that i got fired from christian summer camp for being queer or gay or whatever. she didn’t get the joke, she said she thought it just seemed sad.

amy made me such a good sandwich on friday night. i keep listening to my frankie cosmos tape. i spent all day saturday with friends. the leaves are starting to turn. i just want to give you context. it almost makes it worse because i feel ungrateful. that’s not a helpful feedback loop. i don’t remember what the point was, anyway. 

i’m always trying to write myself out of feeling bad, but maybe it’s different to learn how to sit with it. (can i? how do you do that?) there’s a big welt on my shin. i keep thinking that my voice is different but i can’t know for sure. i don’t want to keep a record. it might be different this time but i won’t know until it happens, or until i do it. 

what resembles the grave but isn’t

anneboyer:

Always falling into a hole, then saying “ok, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of the hole which is not the grave, falling into a hole again, saying “ok, this is also not your grave, get out of this hole,” getting out of that hole, falling into another one; sometimes falling into a hole within a hole, or many holes within holes, getting out of them one after the other, then falling again, saying “this is not your grave, get out of the hole”; sometimes being pushed, saying “you can not push me into this hole, it is not my grave,” and getting out defiantly, then falling into a hole again without any pushing; sometimes falling into a set of holes whose structures are predictable, ideological, and long dug, often falling into this set of structural and impersonal holes; sometimes falling into holes with other people, with other people, saying “this is not our mass grave, get out of this hole,” all together getting out of the hole together, hands and legs and arms and human ladders of each other to get out of the hole that is not the mass grave but that will only be gotten out of together; sometimes the willful-falling into a hole which is not the grave because it is easier than not falling into a hole really, but then once in it, realizing it is not the grave, getting out of the hole eventually;  sometimes falling into a hole and languishing there for days, weeks, months, years, because while not the grave very difficult, still, to climb out of and you know after this hole there’s just another and another; sometimes surveying the landscape of holes and wishing for a high quality final hole; sometimes thinking of who has fallen into holes which are not graves but might be better if they were; sometimes too ardently contemplating  the final hole while trying to avoid the provisional ones; sometimes dutifully falling and getting out, with perfect fortitude, saying “look at the skill and spirit with which I rise from that which resembles the grave but isn’t!” 

(via fairyghoul)

Depression is stupid and not a thing that makes me a better writer. One time I went a whole year without writing and I stayed in bed and drank. Fuck your Bukowskisms. I want sunlight and love and running down some street I’ve never been on where it’s warm and cool at the same time and I’m smiling. I want nothing to ever be bad again- and I don’t mean that I want a life free of conflict, I mean that I want a life free of meaningless conflict. Not being able to will oneself to take a shower or leave the house is meaningless. There is nothing to be gained, no lesson to be learned from that kind of life. My heart is stale, my prose is stale. Give me fire if you want to hurt me. Give me something I can taste. There’s nothing romantic or mysterious about where I am. There’s nothing here worth holding onto.

By Joshua Espinoza (via doubtsbestally)

(via unfriendlymelusine)

aedeagus:

the united states of america is fucking horrific and repulsive and people have every right to shit talk it but leave fat people out of it and stop acting like having fat people makes the usa a bad place, when you could focus on idk literally everything else

(via disecholocation)

rgr-pop:

spectralprojection:

i know exactly where this sign is and have driven by it many times(relatedly, r.i.p. touchdown jesus) 

do you guys have feelings about dixie baptist church (“are you on the right road?”) jesus off 75? that one is v. important to me because of going between pontiac and flint. (in fact, on the right road.)

i’ve never driven by that sign! it’s bc we never really went anywhere east in mi when i was a kid, we were always either driving back to kentucky (ergo touchdown jesus, which used to be on 75 south just north of cinci) or driving up 127 to somewhere up norththis is another of my favs, on 65 just north of montgomery, alabama: 

rgr-pop:

spectralprojection:

i know exactly where this sign is and have driven by it many times

(relatedly, r.i.p. touchdown jesus

do you guys have feelings about dixie baptist church (“are you on the right road?”) jesus off 75? that one is v. important to me because of going between pontiac and flint. (in fact, on the right road.)

i’ve never driven by that sign! it’s bc we never really went anywhere east in mi when i was a kid, we were always either driving back to kentucky (ergo touchdown jesus, which used to be on 75 south just north of cinci) or driving up 127 to somewhere up north

this is another of my favs, on 65 just north of montgomery, alabama: 

(Source: dogplanet)