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23 Dec, 2023

My house has seen a recent increase in fruitflies. this is weird because first of all its winter so all the bugs should be dead.. and second of all we dont even have fruit in the open so god knows where they are coming from. i theorized it was from the houseplants, maybe they arent fruitflies but just some other kind of mite or gnat that festered in the soil, so i bought neem oil but even after a very liberal application to every pot i own, the bugs still are around. whatever. i was sitting on the toilet the other day reading on my phone picking at the scars on my thighs and i noticed a bug flying around me. Feel like i am a rotting carcass. dried blood under my nails texting my best friend i love you! i love you im doing well! i love you! oh my god i am literally fucking disgusting! i tend to just sit there on the toilet for up to 45 minutes because i can have my pants down and scratch at my thighs of my own accord so theres no nasty fabric irritating the cuts but i can still keep them from healing properly and it gives me something to do. so i sit there basically sometimes i pee sometimes i dont pee sometimes i shit, which is the worst because if i sit there to shit and then i keep sitting there and i only wipe when im about to get up but theres a signficant amount of time between shitting and getting up then the shit residue just kind of dries around my asshole and becomes really difficult to wipe off. so after 45 minutes or so. im there trying to wipe my ass and my thighs are bleeding and i kind of have to pee again but i mosyly just want to get out of the bathroom because of those fuck ass flie.s. i feel sogross. its this external existence that paralells my internal state of a death inside my brain that happened a really long time ago so now the rot is spreading everywhere else. I hate it but im morbidly obsessed. the physical reminders keep me in check so i think if i let my thighs heal then ill start actually acting the way that i feel all the time. the knife i use usuallly, has no weight at all, i tried a different one which is quite a bit heavier so the pressure i apply from my own hand has more impact. i just have to lean into it and let the weight do its work. the feeling of something heavy in my hand and heavy on my skin is pretty great because it makes me small and easy. the weight gives me more control but also less because i need to think more about what i do and think carefully, its less effort for more damage, so its more thought for less damage, lately i don’t want to think so much but there’s a gripping fear i’ll mess up in a serious way. i like what i have now. each one takes about three days to have a scab that i can peel off and then it’ll keep bleeding. before that then it’s mostly just dried blood and me scratching it off does make it bleed but not to the point where im ruining some healing that my body has already tried to do. after the three or two day mark (depending on the depth) the scab is more developed and then i can even rip the wound into the skin. I know that it’ll lead to real scarring but i don’t completely care. reminders and all that, also for other people, to know i’ve rotted previously and im barely being held together. If i cut myself over the scars there would be revealed thin layers of oozing rotted viscera. so everything must be done once. that’s where im at in my life journey. i want to buy a new knife, ideally sharp and of a decent weight, with a larger thicker blade. sharp enough that i don’t even need to put pressure alongside the weight i just want it to weigh a perfect amount so that it’ll do its own job. not sure how id buy one without seeming suspicious in my intention to further my own demise like oh what are you using it for? to.. cut. plastic. yup. underneath which is a decaying corpse. sometimes it ends up bleeding a bit too much and i never want it to drip down my leg in the wrong direction, so i make sure to clean it appropriately, sometimes if i forget about it i end up using the same tissue which was in my hand to wipe myself later. everything gets mixed together and by extension i become one like i end up being inside the earth my whole self becomes one thing just me somewhere in a sewer dying. anyways!
aside from that i’ve been listening to a lot of electronic music and watching animated movies. mostly ghibli but ive added quite a few others to my watchlist. tokyo godfathers was fantastic. the sheer amount of animation in my letterboxd makes me worried that random people seeing my diary will think im a child, but i just like them because it makes me feel like one, and animation is uniquely clean in a way that film of live action can never come close to because humans are disgusting. so a lot of electronic music and lot of animated movies or movies in general. i don’t want to talk to anyone ever again until february at the very least. Whatever man. i hope my whole leg down to my knee gets covered and it can wholly bleed whenever i take a shower i want to see my leg and have it spill down. showers are fascinating because my filth is temporarily coexisting with the pure cleanliness of taking a shower. whatever happens, im chilling, im having a fine time. guess i should tw this entry even though i never say anything explicitly. whoever is reading this, i don’t care

of course a poem to say farewell. i love siken so much. Was rereading crush today and i love the way that the physical copy i have feels in my hands, i love how subtly thick the pages are. almost like cardstock they’re very sturdy. the corners are cut, almost rounded. the font isnt too thin or too thick and the foreword is by louise glück who’s one of my favorite poets alongside siken. anyways this poem makes me think a lot of the itoshi brothers. they’re great. i love it a lot. goodbye_~~

SEASIDE IMPROVISATION

I take off my hands and I give them to you but you don't
want them, so I take them back and put them on the wrong way, the wrong wrists. The yard is dark, the tomatoes are next to the whitewashed wall,
the book on the table is about Spain, the windows are painted shut.
Tonight you're thinking of cities under crowns
of snow and I stare at you like I'm looking through a window,
counting birds.
You wanted happiness, I can't blame you for that
and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy
but tell me
you love this, tell me you're not miserable.
You do the math, you expect the trouble.
The seaside town. The electric fence.
Draw a circle with a piece of chalk. Imagine standing in a constant cone
of light. Imagine surrender. Imagine being useless.
A stone on the path means the tea's not ready,
a stone in the hand means somebody's angry, the stone inside you still hasn't hit bottom.

#sh