Night of Bikini Kill, Rage Against the Machine, Jack off Jill, Mudhoney, The Cramps, The Dogbones, Daisy Chainsaw and Sleigh Bells = healthy intake of frustration, apathy, phlegmatic fury and generally some of the most astounding bands with a raw, harsh sound, the voice of misfits and outsiders
Cindra has inspired me to write a comprehensive list of what my romanticized notion of a future will look like, so here I go:
-I will become an elusive philosophy professor and poet
-during my 20’s, whilst studying, I shall play in an underground feminist punk band that declares anarchy and liberation.
-I’ll lecture numerous classes full of eager scholars during the day in mystical places like Latvia, in the city of Prague and Seattle, and during the night make love to blurred faces of the youth that will soon pass me by
-I’ll drink coffee at dawn and wine at dusk
-After such a hedonistic youth of excessive dreaming and rambling, I will move to the far edges of Iceland, into a neon blue painted, wooden shack that will be decorated each month with more and more patterns and waterproof art.
-I will spend my days drowning in herbal tea and a sea of fresh papers, with tides of ideas and thoughts written on them
-I’ll publish various philosophical journals, occassionally lecturing a few villagers in the nearby town.
-I’ll write poetry on the walls, on the ceiling, on my strings of oil covered hair, in my veins and on my lover’s sleek, graceful and slender body
-I’ll breathe the sharp Arctic air that will warm my lungs with the soft haze of nostalgia
-And I’ll inhale for the final time whilst floating in the cold yet maternal Atlantic Ocean, as I suckle from life for the last second and utter ‘goodbye’ in the warm cradle of an endless, neverending horizon.
I have just opened my glitter dusted eyelids fully, and finally. The past week has been a blur of teenage complaints and pg-rated moments. I have been packing my life up basically for my trip to Europe, I have been falling slowly in love with the idea of constant movement, where I am finally not too lazy to actually exist and breathe. Tumblr has been drilling my head with melodramatic posts all week, but I am a known sadist and enjoy the rants of others over miniscule details of a bland and boring life. It is a syndrome of humanity to complain, to become addicted, to obsess, to become ill so our little unimportant speck of biotic respiration becomes a little more fresh and thriving. But I am leaving behind the cynicism that gives birth to all my thoughts and actions, and shedding my skin, and taking a vacation from myself. Or as my friend would say- Become less of a cunt.