Rain
I’ve been thinking about clothes and the way that they act to preserve the eroticism of the naked body. What would we look like if we never wore clothes? We wouldn’t seem half as sexy naked if that’s how we always were. My sister used to talk about teaching in a nudist colony. She claimed that they had a hard time attracting qualified teachers. It makes me wonder if they have an easy time attracting live models.
I always assume that cameras are watching me. It isn’t paranoia. I just assume that we are at a time when we are constantly being recorded, photographed, watched by security cameras, what have you. My mom sent me a slinky in the mail (along with other goodies!). I am playing with it in the lounge, and I have no idea if there are security cameras in here. Playing with a slinky doesn’t seem like something I would normally do unless I were alone, but if the camera is here, I am less alone, but still I don’t care. I am a part of the documentation generation, apparently. I don’t mind being watched. In fact, I hope that I am being thoroughly recorded so that one day, the government will be able to show me my file, and I will be able to make sense of myself.
Someone in my Radical Aesthetics class wrote a piece called “God’s Marketplace” that was inspired by a discussion (clash) that one of my other classmates and I got into. The phrase “God’s marketplace” was his, but it was my idea. Nobody likes my idea in that class. Maybe they think I am silly and stubborn. Everything has a value. Even love. I use the word commodity loosely. Or maybe not even loosely enough.
Find quiet.
i don’t mind being watched in public. or spaces that i am not sure if they are public or private.
amanda taped me for a project she’s doing for her media diary class. she just had me talk for five minutes about us being friends and my thoughts on her. i am sure it is just the narcissistic part of me talking, but i was entranced when i watched it afterward. we tell a lot about ourselves that we don’t think about on film. i fiddled with my hems and looked out the window a lot.
It has rained here all day. And I wanted to get stuck in it so that my gym clothes would stick sexily to my body. But then, I remembered I have no chest to speak of, really, and my boyfriend isn’t even here to appreciate it.
So, rather, the rain seemed to make me contemplative in my lonely, sweatpant-clad, nakedly sad self. I feel that I wasted my time today. Just thinking about what I have done wrong to merit what happened to me last night…unspeakable. What I think is my fault, and it’s really not. I keep blaming myself, but the real culprit won’t admit his wrongs. So, I put it on myself.
Sorry I keep rambling. I’ll end this comment here.