THE GREAT UNFRIENDING #3

THE GREAT UNFRIENDING #3

(2/4/14) Deleting people from my digital world does give me some petty God-like pleasures. But moreso, it has made me wonder what I really value in people. Who do I let into my little world? I've been thinking of people in terms of how much love or respect I have for them, their geographic and emotional distance, what they offer me in terms of support, advice or job prospects. Whether they have hot friends, whether we share some bonding memory that I will never want to delete, how amusing they are (the weird honest ones are the best). "We define ourselves by the ties we keep," as sociology professor Bartt Dredge used to say. So based on my profile, who the hell am I?

Amazing and disquieting wooden sculptures about mortality and identity.

Yoshitoshi Kanemaki

Unusual Sculptures of People and Skeletons Chiseled from Wood by Yoshitoshi Kanemaki

Japanese sculptor Yoshitoshi Kanemaki chisels these life-sized figurative sculptures out of giant pieces of camphor wood, a kind of evergreen. The strange pieces frequently involve two or more characters merged into a single form, which could been interpreted as commentary on mortality, or multiple personalities/perspectives.

http://bunkyo-art.co.jp/artists/YoshitoshiKanemaki.html

http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2014/03/yoshitoshi-kanemaki/

THE GREAT UNFRIENDING #8

(2/12/14) - Katelyn Forsberg Harris: The first time I met this person, she tried to knee me in the balls. She was drunk and under drinking age. I was stoned, illegally as well. But as far as I can remember, I did nothing to incite her surprise attack. That she did this at my best friend's party did nothing to endear me to her.

It was a shame. Previous to her attempted cunt punt, my best friend had told me so many good things about Katelyn — about her immense tap dancing skill, her twisted sense of humor, her relentless work ethic.

All those compliments meant nothing the instant I blocked her knee with my thigh. My friend intervened and made apologies for her. Ever since then, my balls and I instinctively kept our distance.

I was only ever nice to this person because of her association with my close friend. But why keep up the pretense with someone who I should never called my "friend" from the outset?

THE GREAT UNFRIENDING #6

(2/6/14) Brian Howard: We met on Scruff and became Facebook friends a few weeks ago, mostly to look at each other's personal photos, I guess. He was cute, bearded, hairy chested — most of his profile pics were selfies he took in bed, a duckface with a slight turn of his head, his white cat lurking somewhere in the corner of the pic. He also had many photos of light fixtures. He lived in North Carolina and perhaps we had daydreams of one day meeting and laying shirtless in bed with his cat, drowsily transfixed by the beautiful chandelier above, sleeping late into the winter mornings, our bodies cradled together; perhaps, perhaps, but alas...

It's weird how we sometimes desire the attention of strangers, and then reject it once it's attained. Perhaps the fantasy seems more fulfilling than our idea of what will actually happen.

QUEER HORROR DAY #21 - THE DOGS IN MY HEAD

The dogs in my brain keep me up all night with barking. When they wrestle and scamp around, I get headaches  Their poo mucks up my thoughts, their urine trickles down my spine and across my rib cage, spreading a warm iron-scent over me — usually when I'm at a work function. When they're hungry, their  incessant, whimpering grinds my teeth. I only sleep when they do.

They're getting bigger. Occasionally a large hairy paw slips down my brainstem into my throat, and I gag. Sometimes their slobber makes me drool when I'm eating. When I fuck, I do it doggy style, growling and raking my claws down their backs.

My eyes are as yellow as the moon. 

NyQuil used to make them drowsy, now it just makes them angry. I can feel them bristling at its taste in my bloodstream, baring their teeth and raising their hackles in resistance. They retaliate by pissing, gnawing at my short term memory and tearing my most beloved memories to shreds.