I’m not going to post this as a reblog to anything but I’m sure if you follow me your dashboard is blowing up with people talking about ‘how board they are with ‘white DIY punx’, I’m not trying to derail anything but…
I’m not good with words but I want to say this before I end up being to afraid to do so. I understand that DIY punx are largely a reflection of their own privilege but so is the ability to walk away from that culture.
Punx doesn’t have to change the world or fix everything (and for the most part it has no illusions of doing so) but it dose fill a very important roll. DIY punx is the only real support structure I have and when I say ‘punx rock saved my life’ I’m not kidding there are many times where my excuse for not kiling myself was going to a zinefest or a workshop or playing a show. I don’t know how to explain this any better but their is that.
remember that one time during plan-it-x fest when i felt like i was good enough
remember that time I was super outgoing for 4 days
- (After Ramshackle Glory's set, right offstage)
- Me (crying from the set): Hi, this is really dorky, but can I have a hug?
- Pat: Sure!
- (As we hug)
- Me: Your songs helped me quit drinking...
- Pat (breaking the hug, seeming genuinely concerned): How are you doing? How long's it been, if I can ask?
- Me: 2 months, and I'm doing okay. It's tough, but I'm making it. I mean, it wasn't a physical addiction yet, thank god, just like...crying and listening to Johnny Hobo.
- Pat: I was crying when I wrote those songs!
- Me: Seriously though, thank you so much. You've probably saved my life at least a couple of times...
- Pat (uncomfortable): I didn't save your life-
- Me: Yeah, true, your lyrics helped me through a lot of stuff is all.
- Pat: Well, I'm glad I helped.
- (I come up to him at the merch booth later)
- Me (crying): I'm sorry I told you you saved my life and made you uncomfortable-
- Pat: Wait, why are you apologizing? You don't have to do that!
- Me: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just have really bad social anxiety and-
- Pat: Can I hug you?
- Me: Sure.
- Pat (as I sob into his chest): Shh...it's okay. Nothing can hurt you- well, I don't know that. But not here. You're safe.
- (We hug for a pretty long time until I let go. He's a really good hugger.)
- Me: You're an awesome person, you know that?
- Pat (shrugging): I try to be nice!
Dear PIX kids…
last weekend I had one of the best times of my life playing the game formaly know as 4-square but from this point forward to be know as asstchin (sp?)… any ways what was originally a stupid joke lasted about 5 of the best hours ever. and ended with me and a woman/girl/whatever sitting on the ground rolling a ball back and fourth saying things that made no seance and laughing histaricaly. her name and internet whereabouts remain unknown to me.
I would really like to find a way to contact her (I think her name was maddy buy I’m not sure at all) and have an internet crush on her. I get that this is weird or whatever but she is provably one of the coolest people in the world.
because this is 2012 I figured if I threw this out into the blogosphear may be it would reach her… so like if you have any leads or have a lot or PIX followers please help me out and spread the word.
Peace and Monsters
one of my good friend’s baby just died while I was writing a blog post critiquing someone for calling gender ‘a spectrum’. nothing I have to say is important. i don’t want to live.
More people should be into hug jobs. Why should sex be the only kind of loving that people do casually? Why not go out, get wasted, hug in an alley and feel close to someone and get all charged up and then never call them again? This is the solution to the worlds problems. The hug job.
Sometimes being a queer punx means driving to Indiana to have tender feelings and cut hair for all your internet crushes but it sometimes means having to hop a fence at a reststop off in nowhere so you can hide in the woods to pee while you try to remember what poison ivy looks like
I cried today when I realised I will never be able to afford to take another gender studies class… noone will ever think I’m smart again.
my prof keeps talking about how great of an anthropologist I’m going to be … FUCK YOU… stop filling my head with things that I will never be stable enough to do