I ignore bills. I pay the things I need to pay but I ignore the bills that do not directly effect me. Medical bills, financial aide bills, credit card bills. These things I ignore. They will give me bad credit. They may call me more than I would like. But what do I care? I DO NOT LET THESE BILL COLLECTORS BRING ME DOWN. I KNOW THAT THERE IS NOTHING THEY CAN DO TO ME NOW. I WILL OUT RUN THEM FOR AS LONG AS I CAN. SOME WOULD CALL THIS DUMB BUT I CALL IT SUBVERSIVE. BILLS OR DEBTS ONLY HAVE AS MUCH POWER OVER YOU AS YOU GIVE THEM IN YOUR MIND. IF YOU GIVE THEM NO POWER THEY HAVE NO POWER. BILLS AND DEBTS AND CREDIT ARE ALL PSYCHOLOGICAL. PAY THEM NO MIND AND THEY DON’T MATTER. But there is this continually nagging feeling of guilt and shame in the back of my mind. I feel like I am letting something I need to take care of go. I worry that these bills will come around and kick me in the proverbial ass. What if they take money from my bank? What if they show up at my front door and arrest me? Am I a bad person because I am neglecting these bills? I have bad credit now and as a result am screwed. Thoughts like this fill my mind as I sit here on the toilet thinking about bills. See what I mean about it all being psychological? Debt and bills are a human construct. A social tool of repression and enslavement. Debt and bills have nothing to do with the natural universe. Debt and bills are an artificial construct. I try and keep this in mind. I needed to do what I needed to do to survive and get an education. I paid them some money but I will pay no more. Education and medical bills should not be so expensive. It is morally wrong the prices these institutions charge. Capitalism at its worst. Completely taking advantage of people’s misfortune. Unethical thievery. Thats what these organizations are engaged in. They are horrible entities. Monstrosities and I will try and out run these beasts for as long as I can. Take the money and run, so to speak. I see it as being an ethical outlaw. The ethical outlaw takes what they can from malevolent and greedy institutions and people. An eye for an eye is the ethical outlaw’s driving belief. What is fair is fair. I’ve put in my time now you put in yours. The ethical outlaw must be courageous and continue to do what he or she feels is right in the face of complete exploitation. What am I talking about? You just don’t have the money to pay back these bills. You don’t want to work more as a psychologist to make the money you would need to pay these bills. You want to keep what money you do have for yourself and not have to work more. You are just as greedy and unethical as they are. You both are coming from a similar place. But they have a lot more money than I do. It is true I would rather have more free time. Time is my most important asset. I get indignant when I have to give my time up to someone else in order to make money. This is why I resent all of my clients. I want to cut off their heads. I want to stomp all over them. I disdain them because they are taking away my time. But I need their money. I need to pay for my sex addictions. I need to pay for my book buying addiction. I need to pay for my drugs. I need to pay my mortgage and my office rent. I need to pay for records and food. I need to pay for things that I like in order to feel like all the time I waste making money is somehow worth the sacrifice of my free time. If I was not able to buy things that I like I would see no purpose in doing the work that I do. I need to see some cool object or experience that results from my giving away my time in order to make the money I need off other people. So no, I am not giving up this money to pay the bills that do not directly effect my present moment life. No way. They can go screw themselves. I am keeping that money for me. I would rather buy a record and a whore than pay my bills.
There is no question I suffer from an Instagram addiction. Put that much opportunity to feel fun and pleasure in the palm of my hand and I’m screwed.
It takes no effort for me to get addicted to things that are pleasurable. It happens just like that. If it feels good I am addicted. If it doesn’t feel that good, I will not be addicted.
Sometimes Instagram does not feel good and I put my account on temporary hold. I started using it too much. It didn’t feel good so I suspended my account.
But then I get back on and it feels good. There is so much pleasure to be had if I pull my device out from my pocket.
I don’t follow many people on Instagram. I don’t scroll. I mostly use Instagram as a cheating method. Meaning I will write something, post it and then immediately see if people appreciate it. Like it. I don’t have to deal with the difficulties of publishing. I can write a few sentences, post on Instagram and WHAM! There is the recognition I have always been wanting as a writer.
This recognition feels good. Even if only ten people like something I wrote. But then I feel like I should be getting more recognition. I feel like I am not getting any appreciation or recognition for the things I write and post. I will post more. I grow indignant and despondent. I lose control because I am so mad that I am posting more to get more of the recognition that I am wanting. I am enraged that I am out of control.
And then I will put my account on temporary hold. It’s like an addictive sexual relationship. I want her so bad. I consume her. We get it on all the time but gradually I feel like I am losing control. Like I am not getting back from this person what I need. And I grow indignant and upset all the time.
SO I need to learn to be more judicious I tell myself. Just post and then don’t care about the recognition. Only post a few times a day even though you may not get many new followers. Don’t worry about the followers. You are doing it to collect a database of your writings. Just amass as many posts as you can so that your posts are in the thousands. Then your writing will be appreciated. Then you can select and gather the posts and make a book called Toilet Ruminations. This is what I tell myself.
It is fantastic (I used that word) that I have this digital device in my hand that I can use as a creative tool. In the eighties, only my male sexual organ served this purpose. Now I can use this digital device to write things and post them on Instagram and create this following, along with a body of work. All as I go through the motions of my day. It is a pretty remarkable creative tool even though it may be giving all of us cancer.
But I need to get better about this becoming addicted to anything that feels good. I just love things that feel good. Food. Coffee. Ice cream. Marijuana. Blow jobs. Breasts. Meditation. Female skin. Orgasm. My penis. Kombucha. Music. Good smells. Beer. Vodka. Muffins. Pornography. Doing nothing. Strippers. Books. Records. Clothes. Protest. Instagram. I am addicted to all these things and more.
After all, I am a deeply unhappy man. Isolated and alienated. I live in a cultural abyss. A vacuum of crap. My hair is thinning. I am surrounded by no one I like. I am in exile from everything. I have an infected tooth and only one testicle left. I need all the pleasure I can get.
David Wojnarowicz was an important artist. I am not so sure why. What I have seen of his work is good and subversive in a way but not great. I mean the Rimbaud head photographs are good. Some of the paintings are good. His films seem to be ok but maybe I need to watch more of them. The one that I saw was not very good. His band, the music he made from what I have heard did not appeal to me but maybe I need to listen to more of it. Normally, the first time I hear a band if I don’t like the first song of theirs that I hear I will not listen to any more of them. I did not like the song I heard from the band that he was in. So his work as far as I am concerned was ok. Nothing that really inspires anything creative or purposeful in me. His writing is good. His articulations are good. He was a very smart human being. His tape recordings of him speaking about himself are very good and insightful, subversive and creative. A lot of his writing is too much about gay sex for me to be able to maintain interest but he is a good writer. A highly creative and imaginative thinker. This is what inspires me about David Wojnarowicz- his mind. His quality of thought. He is so subversive and imaginative and philosophical in his thought. He goes far beyond most humans. He is a high intelligence human being in a non-conformist and highly imaginative way. He sees far beyond the boundaries conditioned into all of us by society (other people) and routine. His thought process breaks free from all convention. His thought process is very non-conformist, radical and truly original. There is a high degree of clarity and non-banality in his thinking. This is where David Wojnarowicz has made the greatest impact on me- in his thinking. Not his art, not his music, not his films, not even his writings- but his thought was truly what was extraordinary about the man. His thoughts about pre-invented existence, his thoughts about death and dying, his thoughts about sex and disease, his thoughts about politics and social conditioning, his thoughts about work and culture and socializing and solitude and systems of power and ALIENATION and career and money and vice and transgression and drugs and addiction and all the real life kind of stuff. He had such interesting insight in these matters and this is what has impacted me the most in my encounters with Wojnarowicz. He was the kind of person that I would like to have as a friend. He is the kind of person I wish that I could meet and get to know. Hang out with. I am not thrilled about his art but I really like him. His greatest art is his thought and there is no one that I personally know whom I can say this about and yet I think that is what a “real artist” is. Someone whose thought is their greatest art. When we are conformed our thought becomes banal and ordinary. We think the same general things as everyone else. A real artist has not given into this banality of thought. Any great artist who has distinguished themselves it is because their way of thinking is an art. Artists whose way of thinking is ordinary and just like everyone else- are not distinguished artists. They may sell in galleries and teach at universities but their impact is small, materialistic and will be forgotten by history. Most artists today have thought processes that are not exceptional and unique at all. They are artists by profession and not by soul. The goal of every artist should be first and foremost be to make their thoughts their main art. To refine and de-conditionalize their thought process and become so unique and insightful in thought that their work will not be able to compete with how extraordinary their thought-life is. But maybe this can not be created. Maybe people are either born with this distinction or not. I think it comes from being intelligent and as a result really seeing into the true nature of things. Most artists are still highly conformed and limited in their thought. Their vision is shallow. The masses can relate to these kinds of artists and that is why these kinds of artists are the most successful. The masses can not relate to someone with an intellectual depth of insight. But the one thing that I find unrelatable about David Wojnarowicz is that his thought on certain themes does lack a kind of maturity. He has still not done enough work on himself to find acceptance in death. He is still non-accepting of the reality of death and as a result his rage is strong. I understand that David was still young when he died and a large part of being young is this rage (I wish he could have lived longer because I would be curious to see how he would be if still alive today). I suppose this rage is an important aspect of the fear and non-acceptance of things that was within him. This rage can be incredibly fertile territory for creativity and motivated much of his later work (once AIDS kicked in). I just have a hard time relating to it. There is something adolescent about his rage and fear of death. But it is this adolescent, almost innocent quality of Wojnarowicz’s thought that makes his expression so powerful and radical. I suppose I am being a jerk in having judgement with regards to his rage and fear because who knows, if I got AIDS or some kind of socially-created terminal disease that I would not find myself filled with the same kind of rage and fear. Maybe I would be completely accepting and at peace or maybe I would be terrified and in a rage. It is hard to say unless you find yourself there. It is his fear and rage that makes his work interesting. Someone who is at peace and completely accepting does not have very interesting ideas about things. Their art is dull. Resigned. Maybe this is why I struggle most with David Wojnarowicz- he reminds me of what I have let myself become. As an artist, he reminds me of what I have let go of as I have grown older, more comfortable, more suburban, more smartphone addicted and of how I have allowed a lot of my thought processes to grow numb, ordinary, resigned and bitter. Maybe this is why I am struggling to continue reading the man.
Hello. This is your author speaking. This is not a toilet rumination but more of an effort or attempt to explain. I have been absent from these ruminations for some time. That is fine. I often don’t see the point in writing these ruminations. I mean, isn’t there better things I can be doing with my time? I don’t often see the point in blogging in the way that I do. Maybe I am revealing too much information about myself and this often causes me to retract or not participate in writing on the internet. It is true that my ruminations are one aspect of my personality. Not my entire personality. Much of it is embellished. I have a tendency towards the hyperbolic and may say things that I do not feel an hour later. So why bother? I will tell myself. Why post these transmissions or ruminations online to begin with? I have a great tendency to talk myself out of everything that I do. To not see the point in anything. I am one of the greatest and most under appreciated living existentialists. That is what I like to tell myself at least. The truth is that no one appreciates me for the man that I am. People appreciate me for other aspects of my being but not for who I truly am. So mostly I have to keep myself hidden. That is why I write these ruminations. It is me in my purest and most existential form. My goal with these ruminations is to create a character. A personality. A person born out from an aspect of my personality. When these ruminations are finished, if they are ever finished, my hope that a distinctive personality will grow out from them. A personality which is unique, subversive and entirely different from who I am. Of course there are aspects of myself in this but my hope is to create a monster not unlike Frankenstein. Sure, I am involved in this creation but I want to have my creation turn into something completely independent of me. So my goal is to write 500 ruminations. It seems like an impossible goal- but that is what I would like. Once I have completed the 500 ruminations I will go back and pick the most important ones and then create a book. From this book I hope my monster will arise. This is the intention at least. I just need fate or destiny on my side. I need to live long enough. I need to stay alive to complete my goal and life is never a certainty. One can only hope they have more time. No one knows for certain. I am sure that I will go away from these ruminations again and again. My hope is that I continue to return. I don’t care if people read them. This blog is a database. A rough draft. A space for me to amass 500 ruminations. If I have a few people reading them along the way- great. If not, that is ok also. The point is to create a monster that is born out of me but becomes completely distinctive from me. Maybe this monster will be the man I was never able or brave enough to become. Isn’t that what monster’s do? They are a reflection of what we are too afraid to be. Anyways, I just wanted to drop this line for whatever it is worth. Now back to the ruminating.
Everywhere I look, there is crap. There is crap in my toilet. Crap fills my backyard. There is dog crap and human crap. When I lift my garbage can lid there is nothing but crap inside. When I lift the toilet lid- crap. Continual crap. Every cabinet in my house is filled with crap. Crap fills bags that hang from doors. Crap fills closets. There is so much crap in closets that the closet doors can barely contain the crap. There is crap under the desks. Crap under dressers. Crap under chairs and couches. Every drawer and every corner is filled with crap. There is heaps of crap behind the washer and dryers. There is crap that fills the crevices in my backyard. I am dominated by crap. Crap is everywhere. I try so hard to push back the crap. To organize the crap. To keep the crap from over taking my life. I try to push the crap behind closed doors. Stuff the crap into bags. But there is crap all around. Crap fills the trunk of my car. Crap fills every closet and drawer at my office. The crap is disorganized and piled in mountains of crap. How can a person live a calm life with all of this crap all around? This crap makes me want to escape. This crap makes me so mad. Piles and piles of crap everywhere I look. Is this what humans do- amass mountains of crap? Fill their lives with crap? I think that those of us who do not succeed in life do not succeed because we have been taken over by mass amounts of crap. We are exhausted by crap. We are perplexed by crap. We are overwhelmed by all the crap. We feel trapped and stuck because of the crap. We continually want to escape from all the crap. But we keep amassing crap. We are crap machines. We can’t get a handle on all the crap so we add to the crap. There is always more crap being added to the crap. There will come a time where the crap cannot be hidden from view anymore. We will be suffocated by our inability to get any control over our crap. For now the crap bleeds out from the corners like blood from a scabbing wound. We have just enough space to keep the crap hidden from view. But without space we are condemned to suffer. We need space around us just like a fish needs water. We need space in our cabinets and drawers. We need space in our purses and bags. We need space under our couches and behind our washers and dryers. We need this space to live productive and calm lives. Without this space we feel trapped and are continually seeking escape from all the crap. Why don’t we see this? It is not the job and the people that we really want escape from. It is all the crap that we have amassed in our lives that we want to get away from. But we don’t bother to deal with our crap. Instead we keep our crap disorganized. We allow our crap t exist everywhere and try to keep it out of view. We spend so much of our time and energy trying to get control over this crap. Trying to organize the crap that we can see so that we have the illusion of having some control over the crap. But there is still crap everywhere. Crap behind closet doors. Crap in pantries. Crap piling up on shelves. Crap in purses and bags. Crap fills closets. Craps piles up in the trunks of our cars. There is crap that fills all of our trash cans that everyone refuses to take out. We have become the crap. We live within the crap. We are the crap. Our brains have turned into crap. We look like crap. We smell like crap. We talk like crap. We act like crap. We have been possessed by crap. We have not been able to defeat the crap or organize the crap so we have turned into the crap. We have had to become crap in order to adapt to all the crap that fills our lives. We create crap. Material crap. Psychological crap. Our love is crap. Our friendship is crap. Our ideas are crap. Our complexions are crap. Everything about us has turned to crap. This is what happens when we are no longer able to make space. We turn into the crap that we create.