itookthepillyougaveme

Tag: writing

  • Blog #10- Erudite Exclusion

    I strongly dislike a lot of things.

    Digital spaces can include or exclude their audiences through any and all design choices. The formatting, background, and font of every button is a signaler of the virtues the hope to portray.

    (exclusionary bloke)

    I have a habit of being exclusionary with my work. It isn’t necessarily to slight those excluded, it’s more of a filter I place both consciously and subconsciously. As with any artist’s work, they are the most aware of the target audience, therefore part of that perception is wrapped into the work itself. The piece presents itself in drastically different ways each individual, allowing for a myriad of possible perceptions. For example, you could say this blog is ableist due to there being no text to speech option, yet the gray area found in digital mediums is the adaptability of it. Every device you could consume this on would have a text to speech option, so you’re sort of let off with those regards. Digitized stuff ey. My website is relatively redundant, both in content and available navigation controls.

    Art is inherently exclusive. Always has been, always will be.

    Let’s say I were to read this site’s posts from another set of eyes, ones’ less tainted by the horrors of our reality, or perhaps just more optimistic ones. I’d find whatever bloke who is writing this material a bit insufferable, in the sort of way where he’s making a good point, while being a bit of a prick about it. He babbles over all those matters you’ve just never cared enough to mull over, the ones that float just a little too far above what you call reality. There’s something soothing about it, the ingestion of a rant that doesn’t shatter your world.

    “inclusion often sustains exclusion while pretending to fix it”

    I cannot detail the ins and outs of what I am catering to in regards to the needs of my readers. As with most things I do, it simply is not for them. It would be disingenuous to trade my integrity for a more consumable medium. They can find their corporate slop bowl somewhere else. However, in all seriousness, I make it a priority that each post contains at least two or more mediums. Hyperlinks to images, videos, and definitions are commonplace here. I’ve updated all images in past posts to include alternative text, allowing for a wider

  • Activity #8- anyspaceiwant

    I open it again. Flip forward until it’s blank. Yes. Spit it out. The page is lonely; colourless, not neglected no, just not discovered yet. Waiting to say, “hello, aren’t you the prettiest little fuck-up” . An Icarian Fall.

    Dimensions: about three inches by six. 3/4 inch thick. Red. Like a shitty rose.

    It’s important understand that this space is not for you. It’s mine. It does, however, bleed into my life, obscuring my eyes, guiding them with a lens of madness, of unremorseful appreciation. Know this; if it’s italic, it’s direct from the red space. Lucky you, fuck you think?

    As Max says “Dude what if we were dogs” Bro’s so real.

    a page from the space.

    Real, not tantalizing, close, not the brilliant illumination of ideals, but real. Truly real. What is? Whatever I allow, only what I allow to be.

    Forward 10 pages. A brilliance I receive beyond my power to make. Suddenly I know I have passed to a shore where I do not live. I see now, what I thought was part of the light, is part of the dark.

    It’s far too easy to get lost in here. I visit it everyday, and I still find myself slipping down the wrong hallway, sliding into one of the flooded rooms, the ones where the bulbs are burnt out. Most of what you find here is text, partially recognizable characters scribbled up and down the lines- 23 per page. You are often directed to a external work, one that does not exist within this space. Look! Go read The Industrial Society and it’s Future! Sink deeper into the depravity of this world under the false moniker of intellectualism. If you’re lagging behind the class, this space is a book, or rather an empty book waiting to be filled with text. It exists anywhere I exist, tagging along in my back pocket, chomping at the bit when any predicament or experience comes my way, eager to catalogue and commentate.

    Look closer, and you will find surprisingly deep pools of sorrow.

    Check out Hannah Arendt

    Lost again. Flip back to the beginning. Reread it. This time you’ll understand, this time you’ll enact it.

    Max and I with our hazy IPAs, we sit in the beargrass, admiring the lichen, discussing the whys of what has been, and the prospects of things to come. There you are. That is the start. Of this space. It’s really the middle of this chapter, however for our purposes that’s all you need know. It flits between the tangible and that which is only applicable in the mind, it exists because you will it to, you prune it and cherish it all whilst fearing what it reminds you of- yourself.

    This is not inclusive, nor is it exclusively selective. This space exists so that you may tamper with yourself in the safety of language. A third space only in ideals. This special issue.. blah blah blah… does whatever you want it to do. That’s why it’s not a third space. It’s more personal, more intuitive, a leper of fantastical notions.

    Are you there? You must be with me. There are pages, it is red, you know how many lines per page, you know there things that have been written. You do not know what they mean. You are not me. This is not your space. Sometimes, it barely feels like mine. Whatever this has meant to you, try to replicate the negligence of it’s nuance in your own way. Build your own little space of everythings and nothings. Collect your things too dear to speak aloud, and tuck them with purpose, hide them from all that ails, so that you may one day become what you hold so dearly.

    If found: Contact XXX-XXX-XXXX

    Reward: A spliff and a hug

    a hyperlink within an image, an
    image from a page of the space

  • Activity #9- Disclosure

    -Magnets

    Kershbaum

    Disability disclosure-the ins and outs of there being no real proper way to enact the public’s understanding of a predicament only truly understood by the plagued. An act of disclosure becomes a “dance of perturbation and response,” meaning the writer puts something into the world, and the world responds, often unpredictably. I enjoyed her matter of fact tone, not one to beat about.

    Kershbaum underlines three main purposes for disability disclosure(academically).

    -Building Community

    -Illustrating Theory

    -Claiming Identity

    Upon ingesting this piece, I became wrapped up in the infinity of nuance one must undergo when attempting to disclose their disability, without marring their message, image, or composure. The idea that you could disclose it flawlessly, with a smooth, collected action, only to be met with a coagulation of condescending responses(half conscious, half subconscious) is a bit disheartening. So is our world, is it not?

    The format did make me feel. Surprised. Taken aback. Flummoxed. This isn’t fair.

    Mannivannan

    Now. Different format of expression, addressing an adjacent facet of the same umbrella phenom: discrimination.

    So, a Twine game, basically. I found this one to depict the jarringly marginal nature of the healthcare system very well due mostly to it’s format, and partially to the nature of the language used. It certainly is structured to resonate with the reader in a tangible fashion, one which drives the message home deeper. Although perhaps a bit less well rounded than Kershbaum’s in terms of in depth explanations, it offered more soul to the reader. Also, it’s a game, so naturally, higher retention is almost a definite.

    Now, in tandem please.

    Obviously, the intention of each piece was to invite discussion on what it means to disclose personal events and struggles that frame a larger issue, and whether they’re effective at doing so. The personification of society’s pitfalls; a very common form of expression. One’s ability to utilize agency is displayed, then questioned, then deployed again. I’m not going to sit here and reach out to try and corroborate these pieces to past items, as they all share traits, as everything in our world does. it is certain that all pieces used this semester have been different modes of rhetoric, all trying to persuade, to teach, to entertain, hiding behind the facade of their topics being “morally just” or “progressive”. At the end of the day, they are all simply varying forms of propaganda, just as the words you read now are. And that’s okay. I do enjoy discourse upon agency, why some have more and some have less, why we are afforded different privileges based on false sequitives.

    And so, in that way, I know that such works are important, as what do we have, if not the agency to discuss, to disagree, and the right to utilize the machine’s rhetoric to our favour. Exploration through dissemination.

    this is a hyperlink to the FARS system.

  • Blog #9- Permitting a Placid Pulse

    I do like the notion we’re analyzing, the exclusion of statistics in favour of placing one’s finger on the pulse, feeling the blood pulsate, circulating, and knowing why, because you took the initiative to ask. To understand. Citations 86’d.

    Communities must be included as a driving force, as to leave them out is to throw accuracy to the wind, to break trust, subjectivizing every topic, every character, until you’ve squeezed the entire soul from the story. Make them your collaborators, not your serfs.

    The narrative references in “When The Sound is Frozen” are freaking sick. I may have to include a similar sort of cataloging in my future works. Experiment with that medium to say the least.

    I’d like to improve upon utilizing narrative extraction, in a fashion that utilizes the other resounding sensory factors when listening to someone talk about a topic. Fuck what they say, what do they sound like?(still hear what they say, just make sure to listen for more) How do their eyes look when they choke that sentence out? Forage for the grit. To enthrall. I want their stories to hold me captive, bind my arms, hold my tongue, so that which i do take is more meaningful. As a concoctor of verbally or visually transmitted symbols, I must remember- As purveyor of prescribed notions, it’s not my duty to sand them down to textureless nothings, but my job to make sure the audience can feel every knot, every offset grain in the wood, so that their hand is dragged so carelessly, lost in captivation, that they get splinters. Something real. Tangible.

    Writing and research are not neutral. The expression of anything aligns with the topic in a fashion that harbors responsibility for it to a certain degree. Real policies, real environments, and lives are shaped by such. I believe there is often fail to recognize this.It really boils down to an ever-resounding theme often neglected today; the art of listening. Slow it down, get messy, break a concept whilst trying to understand another- be more human.

  • Blog #7- where my So(u)les have gone

    I chose De Certeau. Although seen by many as ridiculously pseudointellectualized, I adore it.

    Walking In The City is very Tolkien-esque stylistically. Linguistically, I suppose. De Certeau talks about standing above the city — looking down from the skyscraper, where everything looks clean and orderly. He calls it a “God’s-eye view.” How we’ve built these massive, humming machines of efficiency — cities, algorithms, industries — all designed to make movement predictable. The characterization of how we’ve built this world of certainties around us, to lock ourselves into a labyrinth of calculated eventualities. Everything is mapped, planned, down to the millimetre. We’re supposed to walk the straight lines, follow the signals, and stay in sync with the rhythm of the machine. That damn machine. This boils down to our constant quest for comfortability, for explanation(why people are religious). This is precisely why I love this concept. Existence is predicated upon interpretation, as we know. I want to be swayed, finding comfort in dissecting this reality, but too often I find myself leached with more melancholy than not. A silent gargantuan humbling of that which just is our actuality. It shows how easily we get absorbed into these systems — the “machine” of industrialization, capitalism, whatever you want to call it — where we think we’re making choices but really we’re just walking the paths someone else designed. Infinite caveats.

    Slugs. I love linking this video. It’s satire, it’s me, and its so real, and so self aware in it’s futile silliness. Check it out. It’s almost wholesome. Mr.putyouon.

    Upon revisitation.

    I cannot say that the third read of this piece definitively altered by intake of it more than the prior two, but the writing and assignments I’ve undergone since then certainly have. I am lost without my GPS in a new city, a newborn babe chained to dependency upon my “personal” machine, that is just an extension of my dependency on the actual machine. I find myself often wrapping my mind into these rantings of industrial society, oh you’re just an ant you’re just a bug. Haha. You are. I am. De Certeau likens walking to “existing outside of your blueprint, which is both trivial and beautiful, as it’s just a physical arm of defining your existence. I guess that’s what i like the most. The physical take on subconscious, conscious rebellion. For the sake of yourself.

    As Edward Abbey says, “growth for the sake of growth”. We’re all just on Crete, either looking for the exit of the labyrinth, happily wandering it, or in constant dismay that your purpose is to wander it. Looking for what? More? Something…right?

    Where have your soles gone, where do you want them to go, and what shoes will you wear? How will that change where you end up? How will that shape your soul? Very nifty indeed.

  • Activity #7- Wizard. Core.

    So. For my artifact I have chosen a widely fluctuating meme format deemed loosely as “wizardcore”. This entails images that embody any sort of mystical vibe or aesthetic, and for my purposes, include a wizard or a figure clothed in “traditional wizarding garments”.

    Example.

    this is a wizardcore meme, detailing two frogs not being high. They're wearing steezy robes.

    Here we have two humble frog lads, dripped out to their tails in flowing robes, contemplating just how intoxicated they may be. The conclusion: not even high.

    In terms of circulation, I will be using the format in general, not any specific picture, as that is what prompts the widespread nature of this meme template. It can convey anything the creator wills it to, which is why it is so dearly utilized. The term “wizard” itself originated from Middle English, as wys, meaning wise, or wise-man. The “ard” was later tacked on. Although this meme format has been around for a decade or so, it really exploded in 2022 on tiktok, with a slideshow format of wizardly images, with captions like “typa $hit i been on”. This was used to describe scenarios stemming from any sort of root; unemployment, to fantasies about what people wished they could be doing, or how they’d like to choose to view their life. It really boils down to a romanticization of peoples’ inner intentions, the human yearning for a more simplistic, puritan reality. I adore this, as I view it as an effect of how brutalistically concrete and lifeless our reality has become in so many fashions. This “wizardcore” seeks to cast a soft golden light over our frivolous societal struggles.

    These examples do not embody a purely positive, negative, or neutral appropriation, therefore they are able to transcend a simplified impact. Archaic images from 20th century artwork are often used, such as one of the first main posts by @thatsgoodweb in 2021 captioned “Pondering My Orb”. As stated, this later blossomed in 2022, but as far as I can find this is one of the first to utilize such an image in this fashion. Inspiration is often taken from LOTR which is pretty rad, as I consider that the epitome of modern fantasy, with many environmental and life lessons packed into the realm of Middle Earth. While I do not believe the original circulators of this format were, or even could be aware of the popularity that would ensue, it’s always keen to assume that eventuality when creating and sharing anything on the vast interweb.

    Admittedly, I adhere to these romantic notions of a transient, otherworldly depiction of many things, as it softens the asphalt around our eyes, allowing us to paint a reality that is indeed, very real, we are just detached. So detached, and discombobulated from the truly ethereal. And that’s the beauty of it.

  • Activity #5- Visual Ventricle

    Symbols are rhetoric. Rigggght. So is everything else. Right.

    Here’s my ‘moodboard’. The intention behind this is rooted in depicting the falsities we are preached as a society. Adherence is only necessary if everyone else adheres. Adhere to some degree to achieve some degree of success. Anyways, that’s irrelevant. Just remember to work hard in high school so you can go to a good university so you can get a good job so you can have a big, pure family so you’re able to lock yourself behind your white picket fence while the world around you burns. It’s simple.

    this is something i drew. it's a dystopian depiction of our world(not so far from today) it shows the pressure of the GRIND, propogated by our industry and popular culture, and how people are starting to wake to the notion that the eternal GRIND might just not be the end all be all.

    Let that seep in. Pure artistic expression. Sheesh.

    I applied both the usage of visual elements such as representation through colour, as well as brief symbol usage(the no sleeping signs).I’d say this is a depiction of a dystopian reality except that is basically how we currently exist. Think about it. Pretty simple isn’t it. Text is utilized in order to make the message more consumable, as well as to plant some propaganda seeds in your little mind. (your mind only exists in relation to this.) The gushing metallic heart of capitalism continues to pump, sending clanker reinforcements anywhere but where they’re needed. Leaches. In paradise. Sucking the life out of you while you smile, clapping your hands in front of your brand new financed (monthly through blackrock subsidiaries) HD colourpop9000™️ 72-inch television set, drooling just a bit onto your pet labubu(which you’re still paying off yet have an insatiable hankering for a new one). Truly, and beautifully content in your squalor. Like a good American. Don’t be ashamed. Go on. Go buy another. Yes, because you want it, sure. Because you can. What else could pacify you if this is your world….. right?

    Nothing’s ever good enough. More. I need more.

  • Blog #6- Crafty Craft

    I’m not going to sit here and say yarn-bombing changed the world.

    Probably because it didn’t. Sure, it’s eye-catching, sure it galvanized some community participation. But did it change anything at all? What’s the point.

    So, I feel it important to preface that these dives into things such as quilting, yarn-bombing, and beadwork must be taken with a grain of salt. Not necessarily the action itself, but the rhetoric that is carved out from them by certain folk. I feel very strongly about making mountains out of molehills, especially in the human rights/social justice warrior/political/moral zone, as it often detracts from the real issue at hand, and disqualifies serious consideration. If you supplement your cause with rhetoric that is blatantly a hot air balloon, you cripple yourself. Here comes the rabbit hole. While public perception is certainly not the end all be all, placing a great deal of emphasis on things that really aren’t, weren’t, and will never be perceived as incredibly instrumental as an effective form of rhetoric is sort of derogatory to the field of rhetorical study. In my eyes, it’s imperative to be precise about what things you entertain and what you simply explore.

    Alrighty I’m done being a cynic. Creative expression is rad. It has been a pivotal factor in many social movements in the past. Specifically, the Prague Spring comes to mind. Very cool expression through publications by local intellectuals, and photographers depicting the local women tease the soviet soldiers. But, what I do like about yarn-bombing, is the ideals it represents. The sort of decentralization of a traditionally domestic craft, taken to the streets. I adhere to the idea that it challenges what precisely it means to be political. Where is the line between expression, and channeled expression? I enjoy that. The whole “making invisible labour visible again” is very poetic, in a sense that transcends the aestheticism of it, bolstering a women’s’ rights issue.

    Rhetoric extends to participation in making things; crafts. I adore the community that stems from these crafts, and is able to blossom due to the action it fosters within a group of people, or in relation to an idea. We are invited to engage together. I firmly believe the world cannot have too much of that. At the very least, I know we need more. Check this shit out.

    trees yarn-bombed.

    Pretty cool, huh? Wanna see another. Yea. Yeah you do. Here’s a few. Revel in it. Yarn. On things.

    tree trunk yarn bombed. bull statue yarn bombed.

    So I mean, it looks dope. Almost effervescent. It didn’t foster any major contributions to historical decisions. But it did incite discussion, whether it was relevant or not is a different thing. However, it did bring minorities together. It did light up ideas, blooming from the twisted myriad of coloured yarns. It certainly caught your eye. That’s for sure. And maybe that’s okay, because any publicity is good publicity….right?

  • Blog #5- Communication Control

    Here we are, floundering in yet another rhetorical medium. Lovely. We’re back to third spaces: the cigarette stained stoops, the pavilion amongst the felled oak trees; those spaces in which existence is less so guided, and more so encouraged. Except now, they’re magazines. Zines, to be specific. These are basically small-form printed written works, often including visual elements, sort of pocket books for the people if you will.

    Upon exploring a few zines on the internet archive, I was not convinced they can be considered third spaces within themselves. I’d say that they can be a very useful medium for circumventing constricting idealisms, but they’re a medium. There is no reflected discourse within them exactly, it’s the discourse that exists around them in the communities they help curate. One could say, well third places in general are just a medium. The place is just a place until you define the place. And I would have to agree. So, I suppose there is essence in claiming them as a place for conversation. For expression. An extension of the imagination if you will. I suppose the main issue is interacting with them digitally. I’d hope for some sort of chat feature or digital discussion room, as that would complete the third place definition for me. Zines are akin to posters, to songs, to notes scribbled then tucked into the drawer of International. They are simply another means to an end.

    That being said I do dig some of Licona’s sentiments regarding imagination as within the realm of positive application. That it is indeed productive to endorse one’s imagination, that it transcends escapism. It’s a nice thought, with a lot of truth to it. Among explored zines was the Warrior Crowd Control and Riot Manual . It was neat. Here’s a little taste for you.

    a zine showing how to use riot control grenades, and how to combat them. It also shows the types of grenades- M7A3 CS, and M25 CS

    Tear gas types mainly utilized by police and military are detailed. One smells like apple blossom, one smells like pepper. Both will make you cry.

    While I feel someone could consume any type of media and be receptive to it, depending on both the topic at and, and their interest in it, I have enjoyed the images in these zines. The sort of pamphlet feel makes for a bit more of a hands-on vibe. Very effective for spreading rhetoric. I can already picture an “Earth First” zine in detail; Erika facing down bulldozers in Northern Arizona. Straight out of Hayduke Lives!

    I still don’t think zines are really third places(my earlier logic says otherwise) but I can understand and appreciate the niche they fill in spreading rhetoric, especially within marginalized movements or for more guerilla sectors, which they seem to be perfectly suited for. Dropping little zine manifestos from the sky. Soon enough. Sound familiar?

  • Blog #4- Charismatic Cabal

    It’s important to define what we will be referring to when the term “culture” is used. That is, what it means in this context. Culture is dynamic, not static. It exists more so as a vector for people, politics, economics, geographies, that sort of stuff. Its constantly evolving in relation to these factors, dependent on which is more adjacent at any given time. So, to preface this, let’s try to paint over our own stagnation. Or we can continue to hold terms up upon their false stability. Easier that way.

    So, let’s go up in my little reality that is deemed to be real. Workplace culture is an idea, that can be static in it’s normative definition, yet is still constantly evolving and being bent to align with specific jobs, employees, times of day. All factors, right.

    A certain level of something is expected of establishments in general. Of course, that is why people attend, as they endorse some of the ideals that the business intends to portray. When one pops out for a cheeky beverage, they gravitate towards whatever vibe they want to be pushed to embody, whatever scene they want to peruse, they immerse themselves in it. Service is dripping with cultural cues. Everything from decor to the music played. So here’s the story.

    At the bar. The one tourists go to. Where pretty girls go with pretty girls, where pretty girls take their dates. So there he was, existing on his little stage behind the sweeping curve of the granite countertop Whether he liked it or not, he was on display. New Couple at B11/12. The immediate unconscious, yet somehow mandatory profiling of them had begun. “Y’all know what you’d like to get started with?” Mhm. “Gin or Vodka. Right, do we have preference? Swell, straight up, dirty, or perfect?” Filthy. Will he put it on a leash? Of course. Dry? Extra Dry? “Would you like that up, or on a big rock?” Twists of citrus, olives, different types of olives. Pick your poison. Swell. That’s just one drink.

    Patron’s personal preferences communicate identity. Of course, only to some degree. What is frivolous to someone, can be a shower of information to him. And vice versa. Cocktails are a fascinating way of pigeonholing people. Nothing uttered says so much. Too much uttered also says a lot.

    Milagro. Silver. Neat.

    Ah, no lime.

    “Tracks”

    People are always so taken aback, insulted even. Especially when they’re correctly profiled. Fuming because they know they look like they drink well bourbon. Double. Neat. Every time. That’s the thing. Pattern recognition isn’t sadistic. It’s inherently human. His brain is trained to identify reoccurring instances and map them out so he can predict and anticipate similar instances into the future. It’s evolution. Beverages are a great example of how items can be seen as status symbols. A martini becomes more than a drink, it’s an expression of what that individual wants to portray. When it boils down to it, formatting presumptions is part of his job. People want to be told what they want when they’re unsure. They want to be interpreted correctly. It’s human to want to be understood, even on a level that’s perceived as superficial. It’s all still a part of who they are.

    He gets his own language too. However minimal. Sharp. Behind! Heard that. Five all day.

    Blabbering perfunctories spewed from his coworkers on the regular. The weight that becomes placed upon things not due to their importance, but simply due to their consistence presence. Abhorrently engaging when you do exist in that world. He opted to 86 that shit.

    Such things began to seep into his life, the one he carried externally. Prioritization of a profession that fueled him, yet was only a step in the staircase to something better. The flashing colour, so bright and oh so animated was lifestyle it pushed upon him, yet he knew how it burned. When he looked at his friends who were gradually driving themselves into the ground, using this industry of service as their vessel, there was no envy in his eyes. What he truly wanted lied outside of the madness and beauty of alcohol adjacent professions. And it became important to remember, to remind himself, of what he said to bar guests on the regular.

    “Hey man, I just work here.“