liveblog 09/12/12

08:46: I wake from a dream about The Magic School Bus where everyone’s Latina.

09:05: Back hurts. I throw the pieces of Nic gum on my bedside table into the bin & replace the bin bag. Groggy. Post on ig, delete photos.

09:24: I giggle at a quote from Ottessa Moshfegh’s ‘Eileen’: “Don’t take rides from strangers,” and “scream if someone tries to grab you,” our teachers said to warn us, but their alarm never scared me. On the contrary, being kidnapped was something of a secret wish of mine. At least then I’d know that I mattered to someone, that I was of value.” 

I find more draft tweets that I’m not sure I posted 

• I have sex ! Very cool sex you have anxiety
• pls stop acting like it’s really easy to be pretty. the truth is, when ur pretty people are subconsciously jealous of u so they project their insecurity and are mean to u for no reason. even when they don’t know u. it’s exhausting:/
• One of my 7 life goals is to be in an infomercial. 2 of my other 6 involve surgeries and boyfriends.
• The rest? They’re secrets I’ll never tell
• And what if “my best” just isn’t something i’m willing to do?
• Do anyone wanna have sex… only requirements r that u are somewhat attractive and that your pussy/dick game is mid….if it’s good I’m telling everyone you raped me
• Everywhere I go I just keep getting head :/
• I want to have mediocre sex so I can be underwhelmed and stop wanting to have sex for another few months
• wait i do know what’s happening because it happens then i know it happened and i know what’s happening
• do your ears get innocent when you’re high? i don’t like swearing or vulgar language because ears are children. happy children playing in a playground
• I NEED TO SNIFF BALLS RN! OR ELSE I DIE! DONT LET ME DIE!! LET ME SNIFF SOME BALLS!! HELP ME!
• Every girl needs a pillow and an iPhone

I laugh at the Sarah Schulman quote, “No one cares about what happens to us. In this way, gay people are the new Jews,” then remember it’s from a memoir about the AIDS crisis.

And feel ways about these texts

10:08: Scrolling through all the IP Addresses of those who have visited my site. Not that I can tell anything other than which city the person’s in and whether they’re using a computer or phone.

10:13: I get another email saying I owe the government $4,600.00 and I need to pay a portion of it by the 18th of December or something bad will happen. Blah blah blah.

10:25: I call the debt collection people and the robot says I’ll be on hold for 72 minutes. I hang up.

10:35: In Boyle’s liveblog, she too struggles to get anything done, and introduces stakes, one being if she doesn’t do her tasks she has to post a photo of her spread buttcheeks.  I’ve already done that, so what’s an effective stake for me… hmm. 
I’m so repulsed by the idea of creating, brainstorming stakes that I have the urge to get up and fold my washing… I don’t act on the urge because I’m too sweaty to touch my clean clothes, but still. 
Why do I hate doing anything so much? 

10:40: I send a bunch of ‘Sorry, just saw this,’ texts, and apologise for ghosting on the day of shoots, for taking three months to send through photos, for not saving numbers, etc.

10:59: A follower sends me a video of his ass. Third person to do so today. I smell like feet.
I think about how Chappell Roan made me happy yesterday, but the truth is, I don’t have the desire to be happy. It’s a nicer feeling than lying in a pool of sweat, but goals, tasks, movement, they’re daunting creatures. It’s easier to be in charge of my own failure by refusing to leave bed than to deal with anything that exists outside of screen.

11:15: I call the debt collection people and let my phone play the terrible hold music.
Im dizzy as I stand to walk upstairs for breakfast. My cousin’s lying on the couch, phone centimetres from her face. She has a tattoo of Roman numerals on her forearm, the date she got an abortion. My mom pays her 25 an hour to do the chores no one else wants to do (clean up after my brother and occasionally bake).

11:30: Because I am dirty, I can touch dirty things, and it will be okay. So I should tidy the gross parts of my room. I play Chappell Roan from my laptop to mask the horrible on-hold music. 
I biff two loaves of bread. One’s brick hard, the other a squishy garden of mould. 
The half-eaten edamame beans rattle as I pour them into the bin. 

11:58: The terrible hold music stops. I tell the debt collector I’m disabled and have no money. We book an appointment for the 17th,  the day before the consequences. Meep.

12:12: Theodora texts she liked my ig story about the New Zealand headline that starts with ‘Sis, he was stabbed’
Theodora: Whenever I say sis I mean it like Māori sis btw
Me: Wtfff I thought you were being gender affirming (calling me cis).
But that’s okay as an intersectional feminist I understand
Theodora: YOU GIVE ME GENDER EUPHORIA
I was gonna comment that on ur pic once when I was really high
But I didn’t
Cos u don’t

A couple years ago, I watched a black van run over a cyclist. His legs were grey-purple. There wasn’t much blood. In Create Mode, I posted that he was posed like a drag queen’s ‘death drop,’ then I ran home and threw up. A few of my friends were upset that I posted about it, but today they like my story about the murder. I don’t understand the contextual differences between each death, why it’s okay to make light of a headline versus something I saw.

12:40: I learn a new country, Seychelles, because someone from there is looking at my website.
I stop texting to ‘get back to tidying,’ except I just stand, look at the floor for a few minutes, then go back on my phone.

13:10: I feel hesitant to throw out anything that isn’t mouldy. From scrap paper to an empty licquorice allsorts bucket, to a temporary tattoo. I search for my camera and tripod so I can remember each with a photo. It takes a while to find the thing that connects the camera to the tripod, it was under some clothes.
The tripod setup is ugly, so I scan my trash instead.

13:51: A friend asks what I’m doing today. I say I’m about to shower (ambitious lie), and will go to the beach (desire-based truth).

14:37: Make a blog post with some of the scans. Decide I really should shower & go beach, will finish post later.

14:52: I microwave a frozen cottage pie for lunch. Theodora asks who the codenames are on liveblog. I tell her then ask her to delete my response. I feel lightly embarrassed but also full of love for her.
We facetime. She mentions what tabs she has open, one of which is particularly relatable.

17:09: Just spent the last 2 hours fixing my emails because I forgot to do the tech stuff for them.. Rip beach… The traffic woulda been bad anyway… I feel kinda ‘locked in’ from that task, so maybe I should use the energy on tidying my room… Let’s see if that happens…

17:51: Ended up researching how to block certain countries from accessing part of a website. Bit too lazy to do that now, but it may happen…
GOD MY BALLS STINK!!!!!!

18:09: Eat a punnet of strawberries and three white nectarines. I’m meant to watch Wicked 2 tonight with a couple mates but I don’t want to…

18:39: Same dinner as last night.
When I wake up tomorrow, it’ll be easter.
And nothing will have changed.

19:59: I’m trapped by league again.

22:26: Just got off call with Lars. Eat strawberries.  Clean teeth. Think distracted people distract people. 

22:42: See the phrase ‘life at 85 IQ Twitter’ and feel seen

22:59: Jack off to some pov vid but don’t really watch it, just picture the guy saying hyper specific words of affirmation (variations of the texts Kyle would send). Cum. Get sad thinking about Bonnie Blue in prison. Put phone down.