"Pillion" (and a useless update) *SPOILERS*

 Jeez, I haven't written in a month- I've been kind of busy? Well, rather, I have felt insufferably embarrassed by my last post, to the point I hesitate opening my blog editing page, if I do, i cover the part of the screen that shows page views... BUT! I write publicly for my own reason, it's okay. It's hard to not feel like a writhing freak, though. That aside, I spent the beginning of the month- I forgot. Well, a few strange things occurred, nothing of public note. Week after, it was Valentine's, my anniversary with my partner, and then my friend visited me from Florida. It was totally awesome! I love my life, really... Until I fell ill, actually the sickest I have EVER been, for over a week. That put a damper on a lot of plans and catching up I had to do, as I was on my couch restless and dysfunctional. I swear, I'm not exaggerating, that was really hell. We are back in business now, though. I'm working on another video project, starting school next week, and trying to get writing again.

I've really enjoyed watching movies lately. In a way, it feels like at (almost) 23 years old, I am really finding what I like, and exploring a lot more. I'm quite avoidant of what I don't care for, a vice I am working on. I've been watching Twin Peaks, something I have passively avoided (along with David Lynch's works in general). A true mistake; as I cry at the thought of the art and efforts of the series! I've watched less sad movies (something I need to make a post regarding), and just went headfirst into a good bit of things. I've been really looking for weird, like, I yearn for a movie akin to "Labryinth", that is less fantasy? Who knows, that's aside the point. I've just been enjoying movies, man.

Last night, I asked a friend about seeing a movie the prior day. As everyone knows, I am pathetic about keeping up with new things, I have an attitude that deflects any appreciation for most modern things, I'll admit. I AM WORKING ON IT! I quickly checked the indie theater a few cities over's website, nothing playing except a "Pillion". I just saw the words "Gay" and "BDSM"- sure, whatever, why not. As a "queer" individual, I don't consume much LGBTQ media. No reason in particular, rather, I guess most romance films don't appeal to me, it used to be "only if it's sad". I do love "Party Monster", though, that's an amazing gay movie... Anyways, I asked my friend if he wanted to see the movie, to which he agreed. Exciting- I haven't gone to the movies with a friend in ages! It wasn't a movie I knew anything about, either, something that seemingly wouldn't appeal to me. I quickly got my stuff together, picked him up, and headed to the theater.

Pillions summary online basically reads: "Colin is an awkward, inexperienced young gay man. He meets a sexy, dominant biker "Ray" who exposes him to the world of BDSM and changes his life, in a way" Sure. This appeals to me in no way, shape, or form,

The movie started a few minutes before we got there, I'm not too sure if we missed anything important. Honestly? I was extremely bored, and rather bitter as I figured out the whole plot. Oh yes, another trope, the age old "older man gets in a dominant relationship with a younger man". Ok man, I saw "Call Me By Your Name" in middle school and hated it. Can we wrap this up? I smacked my lips in disdain frequently. I questioned my capabilities of media literacy, maybe I just don't get it? I am a woman, and I guess when I thought about it, I don't have a lot of gay male friends. Maybe it's that I feel angry that there seems to be too much media regarding this trope, that I think that it's unfair to make men think that this overwhelming, innate yearning for emotionally unavailable men is all there is. What do I know? Nothing, I guess. I also was frustrated at the nonexemplar display of a BDSM relationship, something frequently misconstrued in media (see Fifty Shades of Grey- I haven't seen that movie but I just know, ok). One of the first interactions with the two characters was a alleyway forcible blowjob and boot-lick combo. Ugh. 

Colin is treated as a dog, a common BDSM dynamic (right?), but to an extent where he constantly is hoping for more, while a walled off Ray refuses to show affection, down to NO kissing. Colin sleeps on the floor, cooks for Ray, and seemingly has a "free use" (ew) sort of relationship going on. I could see how the dog-like position could pose as a metaphor, a metaphor as old as time, "like a dog sleeping at your feet". The relationship IMMEDIATELY becomes this, and Colin, being inexperienced, gives in, as the chase for love seems exciting, till he realizes love is never what Ray is looking for. I suppose this is something some people enjoy, but my ever-existing bitterness toward the thought of not being loved results in my repulsion toward that. This relationship leads Colin to meeting Rays friends, who show him love and appreciation in a way Ray doesn't. I believe the whole experience of this relationship matured a sheltered Colin, into learning what he does and doesn't like, but isn't that the outcome of any relationship?

It was until I shed a few tears, and looked over to my friend who was violently sobbing. Oooh, I felt guilty as hell. And I started crying too, because I realized my friend probably could somewhat relate to the movie, which made me think some more. I was too focused, and still focused on the unfairness of a dom-sub relationship with no discussions of boundaries, rules, etc. Sorry, maybe I am a retired freak, but I think that is just abuse. I've been reading a few reviews, where I see this sentiment isn't necessarily acknowledged. Once again, what do I know- well, maybe enough. Damn, wait, how do I avoid spoilers. Never mind, I'll just put a spoiler warning. 

Toward the end, after Colin loses his mother, and experiences bare-minimum comfort from Ray, he has a meltdown, to which Ray finally takes him out. This poses as a let-down-easy into a breakup, where after a kiss, Ray disappears. Okay, yep I cried. Damn it, well, my friend crying added to that. This movie was a good representation of proper cinematography carrying a plot. The ending was beautiful, with an overlap of Colin singing a somber song (that I forgot), while he starts anew. I think, while common of a trope, represented in a way that presents loneliness and the cliche journey of finding yourself. 

I suppose while writing this, I have lost the amount of gripes I had toward the movie. I did feel awkward seeing *almost* porn on the screen alongside my friend, and with my constant internal monologue critiquing sexuality, it felt somewhat refreshing. I appreciated it not being a gay movie for the female gaze, as I feel often disturbed of this and vice versa, fetishizing queer relationships... gross. Well, I think that may be all I have for it, this is somewhat a post to engage discussion and also work on media comprehension.

Thanks

-IONA 

"Real Death" Media Exploits and Reflection

Yesterday marked 2 weeks since I deleted all my social media, with the exception of Reddit, as I passed it off as a good way to get information. I deleted it as well, as of a few hours ago. I had had the account since I was 18, and I wasn't gaining shit worth of knowledge off there. I should have strayed away after the 2024 tattoo debacle that caused a critical strike on my ego, but y'know, it's got communities for everything.  **THIS POST WAS INITIALLY WRITTEN ALMOST TWO WEEKS AGO I'M JUST NOW GETTING BACK TO IT**

Also, trigger warning, I suppose. I discuss "death media", fascination with the macabre, as well as my personal struggles with suicidal ideation. 

What led me to the deletion was the constant posts on a community I joined out of admitted curiosity when I was 18. After an odd fixation with the "Faces of Death" shockumentary series, I admittedly wanted more, and looked into the "Mondo Film" world. Instead, I ended up in a sub-reddit dedicated to "gore mixtapes", something I find to be a sorry excuse of media. The post that did it, though, was some basement dwelling bastard flexing their *SEALED!* copy of the "Vomit Gore Trilogy" a series of films released by scoundrel pedophile, abuser, and "director" Lucifer Valentine. In the background of this individuals alleged prized possession was a dirty, sheet-less mattress with clothes, and a paper plate with old food on it. It gave me a good laugh, but it also sobered me up from the idea of "morbid curiosity". Though the Vomit Gore Trilogy is not that of the Mondo/Shockumentary/Mixtape realm, it is one of those ridiculous pieces of media that have resurfaced in recent times, with people trying to get to the bottom of the mystery of the director himself, but I'm not going to give this conspiracy the light of the day. He's a shitty person, if you're curious, go down the gross rabbit hole. That aside, the form consisted of people searching for these "mixtapes" that you'd find at the bottom of those "DISTURBING MEDIA" icebergs, and general questions regarding these compilations of "real death" media.

Like I said, I was curious, and before my initial deletion, I had searched up a name I saw on there. I guess, a legend of the niche community, and a name that sparked this post;  Kiyotaka Tsurisaki- A death photographer and film maker, mostly known for his film compilation "Junk Films", but more notably, "Orozoco the Embalmer", that follows embalmer Froilan Orozco in his daily life being well, an embalmer in heavily crime ridden Colombia. (I was going to watch it for the sake of this post but after completing the portion regarding myself I have decided otherwise). It reflects on the desensitization locals have developed, the mundanity of an otherwise grim career, all while remaining not-too-exploitative. It's an interesting look into how death is viewed in different cultures, from what I am aware. I have looked into his photography, though, and while some shots I find to be beautiful, while some, such as a photo of a man whom hung himself, do feel the opposite. His work brought me to an overwhelming moment of question.

Kiyota Tsurisaki - Inflamed

How much do we need to honor and expose ourselves to death? And when is too little? I beg the question, and I encourage the debate, as well.

In Western culture, it seems as if we are desensitized in a relatively bothersome way. With the push for censorship, the "sanitization" of death via keeping family members (or whoever) doped up on meds selfishly till it finally clicks that their fate has come, and the constant push to see tragedies online because "it's really happening". There is a constant contradiction, and in all of that contradiction, is a lack of consideration for other human beings. While I do believe a blind eye can not be turned to the mass tragedies that have plagued the past decade, especially regarding how social media and news outlets constantly pushes for the deletion of this content, I am just unsure on how it truly should be viewed.

That aside, as I feel that topic is extremely nuanced and not inherently coinciding in what this was supposed to be about, I'd like to reflect on this "darker" side of media. I don't believe it has the same curiosity it once did, perhaps because I am not friends with people who enjoy these things, as well as my almost-complete avoidance to negative media. That being said, I once did carry a fascination regarding the rather taboo media depictions of tragedy (take a shot every time I use this word). (This is moreso mentioned in part 2 below)

Death has always been draped in sensationalism, but when it's viewed from a fictitious lens, I question those who heavily consume media involving murder, abuse, and sex crimes, especially when it is painted as "artistic" What true artistic merit is in the suffering of others, and what is gained from this? As humans, we are realistically, undeniably curious, but there is limitations nonetheless.

 You ever met a freak that asked you if you've seen the bullshit movie "A Serbian Film"? If you haven't, well, I mean, that's good. In the last few years, the afformentioned "disturbing movie" iceberg made it's way into regular social media circles, with many Youtube creators going over the whole thing. In a way, it encourages the unfortunate morbid curiosity. OK... I'm having trouble with really writing about this, I forgot my point, I guess my point is how this media becomes less appealing when you experience death and grief, and I am not going to go on a tangent about how people that scream these plotless torture porn films are poetic... I don't believe so. I think I'll post this as is and maybe come back- is this pointless? I don't know, I need to get off the computer real quick. I also don't want to talk about how gross these various movies are, I unfortunately know a good bit and I think that was all I was getting at. 

PART 2 // PERSONAL DEBRIEF (written separately so it might repeat previous topics)

I suppose this post poses as some sort of cathartic conversation for myself, as I think the concept of morbid curiosity is still pretty taboo (or, if it comes up, you end up in a gross conversation with some sadistic sicko). It really perturbs me to know people above the age of 14 still actively consume gore, and things alike. 

Growing up heavily online, I was exposed to a lot, way too early. I'll be the first to admit. I oftentimes reflect on being around the age of 9 or 10, and developing a fascination with child suicides. I still can say I have never attempted to take my own life, given the ever-changing circumstances from doing so, for one reason or another, but I can also say it was a terrifyingly omnipresent thought that overwhelmed me from ages 9 to maybe 19/20. I recall constantly reading about children that took their lives, or children that committed heinous crimes, and eventually I kind of developed a curiousness regarding taking my own life, even though I was not raised with any thought or assurance of the afterlife. I think that idea came and went, with one instance being me learning how to tie a noose at a young age, and quickly chickening out because dinner was ready. It's really strange, and I am not sure I would have ever went through with it, I suppose as humans the thought of death is always there. Soon after, I found Liveleak, and I would never seek out real gore, as the thought of dying in horrendous ways scared me, torture scared me, all that. I would watch videos of people falling from buildings, and their fate being off camera. I guess that shows my cowardice, in a way, or perhaps the fear that dying isn't a peaceful thing. The seeking of this content eventually fizzled away, as I grew knowledgeable enough to know death is real and unavoidable, and it's not worth it or healthy to be obsessing over. 

Later in my life, I would be a heavy consumer of "True Crime" media, something I entirely detest now, especially given the state of the world right now, as well as the fact it is all too normalized. At 16, I deleted all my social media, except Tumblr, and only ever indulging in cold cases, serial killers, and whatever else. This would be paired with interest in "disturbing films" (do y'all remember that one list, not the iceberg, I mean the one way back). I never really watched these movies, unless the plot seemed stomach-able, otherwise I would read the plot and opinions others had out of curiosity. It rendered me increasingly paranoid, a feeling I have been battling for as long as I can remember, with the earliest experience transpiring after my new knowledge of security cameras. Of course, at that age, I wasn't the smartest, so I thought they were in my home, in dressing rooms, etc. At this point, I was heavily thinking about my own eventual death, and if I wanted it to be in my hands, and then, I really wanted it to be, till the eventual death of my oldest sister (something I talk about a lot, sorry). That completely diminished any and all desire to die, to know what it's like. I saw her post-mortem, possibly only an hour after her life was gone, I heard the screams of a mother holding her deceased first-born, I witnessed what it was like for others after death. To the emergency services, you're just another casualty. To your family, you're really gone, her ghost never presented itself to me, I just hoped her energy lingered in some way. I couldn't handle the fact that people stood outside of my home in sheer curiosity, and that curiosity is human, but it is too normalized. 

I realized one day, years later, that the consumption of real media regarding one's passing is absolutely despicable, the commoditization of these tragedies being watered down into a 20 second video with Sigur Ros' "Untitled #9" playing in the background, a Fortnite play-through, or the more recently condemned makeup tutorials where the narrator constantly uses obnoxious terms to describe a case, such as "unalive" or "grape" (something that makes me seethe). The fact we must use the loss of one's life as background noise shows the utter loss of humanity we have regressed into. I hate it, I do. 

Sorry if this is weird, I felt it was kind of important to get off my chest, perhaps lesser at my time of writing, as the stint I had a few weeks ago kind of faded, and that curiosity that peeks it's head in occasionally is gone for the time being. I suppose it was due to the fact I hadn't seen anything of the sort, and the afformentioned Reddit post served as a reminder of something I was, in fact, once fascinated with.

Thanks for reading if you got to this point 

-IONA 

 

Snowed in Tunes: The Angelic Process - Weighing Souls With Sand

 Sorry everyone! I deleted my brief post from the other day, just stating I liked some songs and giving a quick "I SWEAR I'LL POST SOMETHING" feels too close to the short-form content I'm avidly trying to avoid! But, as I said in that post, I have so much to write about on the back-burner! I have a few drafts (most in my brain), and a semi-taxing write-up think-piece incoming. I digress! I have been working like a dog, and I just got back from FIVE! days of being in Florida visiting Sam, which was super awesome (despite a day and a half of being sick as HELL). I got to see my dear friend Kira, as well as Sam's friends at a show they played, and just got to hang out. I did not bring my laptop there, as I chose to bring my clunky music equipment instead... So yeah! There is my excuse. Not that I needed one. I hope everyone is well and taking care of themselves in this new year! 

I do have an unexpected amount of extra time on my hands, as North Carolina was declared in "a state of emergency" (tuh) due to an alleged snowstorm. So, I got the day off of work (I'm not sure how much excitement I'd like to show as I have to put in PTO to make up the hours...). Not much has happened regarding that. As of 11:09 AM, the weather is subpar (it's mainly ice, so it just doesn't look all that pretty, had a nice walk though!). 

Cold weather in music feels like sluggish, doom-y, heavily reverbed, and forlorn. I have been admittedly negligent in terms of "negative" media, as I have been in complete avoidance to wanting to writhe in my own sadness, and whatnot. That being said, I can appreciate beautifully sad media, I can, the occasion just has to be right. So... what better time than now? Attached is a playlist I made some months ago that briefly encapsulates just what I'm getting at.

 Within that playlist is a band I honestly wrote off some time ago, after a listen of their first EP, with only the title track, "And Your Blood Is Full Of Honey" being memorable to me. But yesterday, I came across them again, in perfect timing. Funnily enough, after listening to some Mates of State, with the SINGLE commonplace being both projects have members that are married. Other than that, I sacrificed my cute, lively, organ-heavy music for something contrarily heart-wrenching- The Angelic Process

 The Angelic Process was initially the solo endeavor of (stagename) Kris Angylus, hailing from Athens, GA. Following the death of his grandmother in 1999, thereafter inheriting her home, allowing him to construct a studio setup and start honing in on his craft. With the first two releases being the afformentioned EP (2001), and the album "Coma Waering" (2003), a more noise-oriented release inspired by the tragedy of the death of his at the time girlfriend. I haven't listened to this release yet, admittedly, so I can't say too much about it, but I must mention it for the sake of the lore. Stated influences include Neurosis, Swans, My Bloody Valentine, and Merzbow (via the band's Myspace page), which all are heavily reflected in their music. Following 2005, his wife Monica Dragynfly joined the band as bassist, backing vocalist, and keyboardist, further transcending the sound.

 I never have been too into any "doom metal" or drone, I'll admit to never listening to Sunn 0))) (though I do like that video of the guy stagediving during their set), the idea hasn't ever really stuck out too much to me, I guess. However, I am a big fan of the later advancements in the birth of "Doomgaze" or "Blackgaze", as stupid as those genre names are. Post-Godflesh project Jesu, Planning for Burial, and Holy Fawn being some important names of the genre (and whom are all included in the above playlist), it all circles back. It's cold outside man, I need to feel cold! What? Doesn't make sense, whatever. All of this to say, The Angelic Process pioneered this sound, undoubtedly. 

 Their third and final album after the introduction of M.Dragynfly into the band is a whole other experience. "Weighing Souls With Sand" was released in 2007, with a runtime of 57 minutes, with every minute being an immersive experience. I will state my grievance of the subpar production, but I can easily dismiss that as this was self-made, and if anything, it adds to the atmosphere. 

The first track "The Promise of Snakes" sets the albums tone with an almost 10 minute runtime, with the first minute and a half dragging you along slowly, before a riff-y pickup and Kris' unconventional, shoegaze-like vocals, and a decrescendo for the latter half of the song, soon transforming into heavy, semi-intelligible sound. That's kind of the premise of the whole record, in the best way. The album taps into multiple territories, with the second and third tracks "Million Year Summer" and "The Resonance of Goodbye" reminding me of a heavier "Deathconciousness" track (allegedly Dan Barrett has credited the band as an influence). Though the lyrics are entirely incoherent, the voices of the duo replace any emotion I needed from lyrics with the anguish I can translate perfectly. Track 5 "Dying in A-Minor" sounds like bleeding out in the snow, for lack of better word, it's slow, it's painful, but it's beautiful. The closer "Sleepwritten" closes out at ten minutes, with a hauntingly somber piano and heavy dissonant guitars. That was The Angelic Process. Poignant in a way rather un-reflected. 

 After this feat of a record, the band quickly came to an end. After a second hand injury that completely diminished Kris' ability to play guitar (that is, without a surgery that required a 2 1/2 year recovery), he found that he did not know himself without the music, as cited in a Myspace post from October 2007. 

Months after, in April of 2008, he took his own life. To be without the music, the one thing that drives you, to be without the ability to create is a fate I would never wish on anyone. In a post made following his death, M stated he had attempted multiple times prior, with his history of severe depression. She stated "I started to miss him before he was gone", in regards to his slow descent in his mental health that eventually lead to his death. That quote has kind of haunted me for days, it's sad, seeing people we love lose themselves. In 2023, on her birthday, Monica Dragynfly also passed away from reasons unknown. I can only hope they met again. 

The Angelic Process is a band that deserves the niche regards they get, as Kris' efforts into turning his everlasting pain into something truly unique. It's comforting, in a way, the sound not having to turn to super-angsty, heavy music, but rather, something more melancholic. I don't like to directly wallow in what might be negative emotion, and I think they present that. 

Anyways, be sure to listen if ya want!

Until next time

-IONA 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Resolute... Resolutions.. Not Really. (Ramble)

 I'm not sure if my useless bastardized excuse of a human being is having sex right now, or just walking on a treadmill, or playing with a plastic drum set or something, whilst talking at full fucking volume but it is bothering me to the fullest extent. In retaliation, I will play Brian Eno out of my computer speakers at full volume to feel like I am fighting back...I really wish I didn't have neighbors. What's it to wishing though? I suppose I feel I am senselessly owed something, constantly, for one reason or another. I think I need to let go of that thought, as it serves me no feeling besides disappointed. Shamefully so!

It's been 9 days since the New Year has started, and New years was a disappointment that I (once again) feel shameful about. It isn't necessarily worth getting into, things just didn't go as I had organized it in my mind. I was scheduled a scathing 5 AM shift the next morning, where I awoke from my 3-4 hour sleep in a strikingly bitter mood. Something regarding my loss of youth, something rambling about the freedom I feel I lack at 22. I am not owed anything, I'm not, not ever. Such is life, and in my life I have made the choices that have led me here now. Nothing to complain about now.

As I always state in regards to posts like these, yes I could write this in a journal, but for some reason my voyeuristic tendency to speak to a fictitious crowd predominates a pen and some paper. I really am not much of a private person, I think. I think at the end of the day I want to "feel heard", or whatever, and that isn't really something I expect from others often. (To my dear friends, I love you guys, you do listen, and I listen back and that is why life is worth living) I was thinking of it on my drive home from the gym earlier- there is a separation, still, in what I say. Now that I have a a therapist, I have "stuff I already kind of talk about" and "things to probably bring up to my therapist"- The typical differentiation being that of involving and not involving others. If it does, I am not putting that online. Relationships of all sorts are too fluid, and I never want anything regarding anyone else (of negative nature) going out of my brain onto the internet, or wherever else. OK, mostly just the internet. But in-between that, I will practice ambiguity! 

Whilst I scoured the shelves of my pitiful grocery store job, alternating between checking dates of product and playing on my phone, I caught myself scrolling Instagram begrudgingly. All these damn New Years posts... new year new me! Here's a year recap! Cool! I shouldn't be so bitter about such things, but I think it gives me insight if I express it. I also caught myself engaging in something I swear off of doing, that I won't get into due to my afformentioned statement. But, with a half-awake resentment, I abruptly deactivated every Instagram I had (I'm specifying Instagram because it's the only social media I have, I can't deal with multiple apps). I didn't really think about it, nor was I doing it as some resolution to the year, whatever the hell. But there's that, I haven't been "connected" in a little over a week now. I should have gotten contact with some of my friends prior, but I'll handle that later, it's not like it'll be forever. It kind of feels nice, though. Unfortunately, I have spent about a decade chronically informing the world about my life, more or less than some, I don't know. It gives me a false sense of reassurance that i'm "not doing anything wrong" if I tell everybody.

In response to my anti-social-media crusade, I have picked up playing Tetris in an addictive fashion. There's studies that say it's good for your brain, right? I'll just run with that. If it's not something, it's something else. There's always a replacement of sorts, addictive behaviors that come with being a modern-day human being. It really isn't too bad, it's to quell the urge to waste my time in some way I deemed lesser. Today, it didn't quite feel right. After a 10-6 hell shift with coworkers I don't favor too well, a super-brief conversation with a friend/coworker I don't see too often anymore, and incessant robotic exchanges of words with customers, I felt a bit defeated. I didn't have a chance to say enough to my friend, to which leads me to some sort of pathetic overthinking that I pose myself as a miserable sad-sack, and i've been clenching my teeth all day out of self-imposed stress that wouldn't fester if I didn't have to "serve" uppity customers all day. I just get too mad. Something about people reaching over me, or being demanding, I don't know, am I still young enough to not want to be bothered with customer service? I don't owe them anything, and fair enough, neither do they. Following that, I sat down to play my rounds of Tetris, which I forgot to admit was the free, competitive version for the Nintendo Switch (this does, in fact, change things), to which I was doing god-awful at. I felt really alone, yes, nothing new out of my mouth, yes, I know. It just felt foolish. 

Accompanied with my endeavored "lifestyle change", I also haven't gotten stoned since NYE. Crazy, yes, OK, I shouldn't be anyway, whatever, OK. I haven't had the urge, though. I will say, if a friend wants to, I will. But, i'll admit to my slipping in and out of poor habits. During December, we'll just say (for legal purposes) I came in contact with a hefty amount of weed-related items. For the record, just weed and edibles. I took on the idea that I worked out better at the gym if I ate an edible prior, which everyone knows that shit lasts longer than a gym session. So, most days of the week I was perpetually high. I'm admitting it! OK! I often convince myself it's better that way, sometimes, but I always am very, very aware of the importance of "moderation". I was probably just in denial of the ever-present depression that I had carried throughout the year, as I'll tell anyone, it wasn't a great year, actually a ranked bad year. So, yeah, it got to a point. I just have to be smart about things. I am not one for an addictive personality, I know all too well how those go, but i'll confess to the self-serving concept of mine that involves trying life differently, at least in the confines of my apartment and outside of my social life. Never do I do anything different around friends, never that, doing things alone makes me feel in control. My friends, they do know me, for sure, I'll state defensively. 

But in retaliation, I feel as though I'll never be known. It's bumming me out, but, I have been on a conquest of stoic-ness. It's working out, maybe, I don't find myself that sad. Life is what I make it, and there isn't much I can do right now, in a way. I'm not sure where I am at, at all, I don't know what's going to happen soon, this year, whenever. I feel in control of my life, in the personal sense, so I have just been trying to focus on that. I haven't really thought about moving, or what the next steps in my life are. That isn't too say I am getting "too comfortable", I am just tired of forcing it. We work for what we want, yes, there is so much I want, but patience, I want that too. I can't keep waiting and thinking and waiting and thinking, I wait and wait and wait. What for? I don't really know. Honestly, I should be focusing on my re-enrollment in school, and creating as much as I can before I die! I have been doing more than ever in my apartment that I have resented endlessly, crazy. I have been reluctant, but after the December debacle of a failed move, I lost faith and turned it into acceptance, it's OK, there is so much I can do, and I love to do it alone, I can't disappoint myself but so much.

That being said, I have been spending a good deal of times with friends, new and old, it's great. I love the passionate people I have in my life, I am truly lucky. I have talented, intelligent, down to earth friends, I really cherish it. I haven't been one for friendships, kind of, well, that's a lie. I just get nervous. I have learned a lot about what it means to be a friend, and how situations should be handled instead of dropped. Nothing crazy or dramatic has happened, for the record, it's an all-encompassing statement. I'm just glad to have all kinds of friends, as much as I whine about loneliness, I have too many important people to truly wallow in that thought... OK, it's an endless thought, but my point still stands.

I don't know what this year holds, and I'd like to detest the passing of time and claim "just another year", but I don't know. I hope I can actually travel more this year. I won't state too many hopes. Hoping and wishing and waiting, it gets old. I just want to visit my mom, I miss her.

Well, I guess that's it. I have another 5AM shift ahead of me, and I also need to shower, and try to fully breathe. I've been struck with some questionable medical issues, with a popping jaw, never ending aching thumbs, a lump in my throat that won't disappear, and the inability to breathe properly. Fuck, I need to figure out my insurance stuff. I'm strangely lazy, picky about it. Maybe I can work out and run till I quell the breathing problem but I honestly probably have asthma. Oh well

Goodnight

Iona

 

I could have said more but . stream of consciousness guys, it's what my brain chose to say 

"Junkie Literature": From Someone That is Just Now Reading

 OK. Preface; I am relatively new to reading "literature" as I should call it. I have been admittedly indolent to the idea of things that don't seem exciting on first exposure, as I have liked to make up some prophecy regarding it. It is obnoxious, but I am young, and I am learning! And basically, I am glad to have learned that not everything I read has to educate me, as I have always thought of fiction as a "waste of time", for whatever self-absorbed idea I developed. It isn't, though, obviously, as there is always so much to learn from everything, and that is what keeps me going! Me not reading for that reason has been a lesson within itself, and it's exciting to not think with such occhiolism- hey, cool word, right?

I would also like to make it clear I am not entirely educated on the history of literature movements and whatnot, but I'll try my best. This isn't a historical/research based post, but rather an appreciation for something I am new too. My goal is honestly to strike up discussion, recommend things, and perhaps be recommended things back. It's just fun to write about media I consume, it helps me gain understanding, in a way.

"Junkie literature" is something I have been exposed to via my partner, who reads a whoooole lot more than I ever could, and really, he is to thank for me even trying to. Admittedly, because I felt significantly less intelligent, being a VERY inconsistent student, and not really educating myself period. That aside, my mom also has had a really awesome book selection around, and those two have found a common place in the weirdo-books they enjoy. It's really awesome. So, to pay homage to my loved ones, I picked up reading around 2023; taking a whole year to finish Yukio Mishima's "Confessions of a mask". In my defense, I had a lot going on and constantly forgot about it. The cover always intrigued me when I would see it in my mom's books, so I figured it was a good start. So that is where we began!

When my mom had moved last year, I took some books that looked cool, once again, out of covetousness for my partner. I'm not sure what drew me to pick one up, I believe it was him and his friend talking about books one time, and I really admired the bond they had over the hobby, and the author Ryu Murakami was mentioned. I had remembered I had a book by him, from my mom of course, so when I got home my journey began... *EDIT* I actually think I began reading it when the notorious tire debacle occurred late last year, and I needed things to do to distract myself from the all-consuming horrors. Still, my point remains. 

"Almost Transparent Blue" was my pick of choice, it didn't look too long, and I judge books by their cover, too. But like actually. It was Ryu Murakami's first book, a semi-autobiographical recount of his experience at age 19 with sex, drugs, and other debauchery. On the first page I was already invested. *SIDE NOTE* - I am remembering this as best as possible, I read it months ago* It immediately paints the scene of Ryu in his decrepit apartment, sitting alongside prostitute and friend "Lilly", a consistent character in the book. They share a seemingly intimate bond, and immediately goes into the two shooting up. It's quite profound, and the book wastes no time getting into the hedonistic lifestyle Ryu is living. It lacks plot, a common theme within the book genre, and is also reflective of the experience of living in a daze, chasing one high after another. Intensely graphic mentions of sex and violence are present throughout the book, which honestly drew me, as it reflects a sense of brutal honesty of the taboo. It does get gross, at times, with an orgy recount in the first, like, 30 pages. Undeniably, it's beautifully written, with the ending "spiral" bringing me to tears. I would praise this as a favorite, leading me to reading his other works, but I haven't gotten that far yet.  

 

Junky was my most recent read, as I have just finished it as of maybe an hour ago, or however long it has taken me to shower, make some tea, and write this. It is another book I used to see in my mom's collection, but Sam had got it for me in response to my enjoyment of Almost Transparent Blue (I am thankful for all my loved ones' passion for their interests, I feel the need to constantly state this because it is so important to me). This was author William S. Burroughs first book, one that he believes "isn't much of a book", and I can kind of agree. But, alike to Almost Transparent Blue, it is strikingly honest. Unlike ATB, it lacks glamour, there is no fun to be had in this retelling of his autobiographical recount of being addicted to Heroin and Morphine in 1940s New York. That doesn't even sound fun, right? Right. Nonetheless, it was an intriguing read. It follows his journey in picking up drugs after his departure from the army, and the odd jobs he picked up after. Initially, it began out of boredom, out of an intrigue for something else, something new. He gets caught, gets clean, relapses (a few times), flees to Mexico to avoid legal battles, returns back to drugs, begins losing himself, and well... you'll have to read it, if you want. I really appreciated the way he discusses why he does it, and why others get addicted. It's insightful, in a way. I will argue that I would have enjoyed it more if I had never witnessed addiction in any capacity, I think someone who hasn't could learn from it. 

In reflection of the two, I find this to be a captivating genre, humanizing the struggle of addiction. They were both vastly different, though, as I can cite cultural differences and time periods as the reason. I enjoy the rawness of it, as I feel these things should be talked about more loosely, to a degree. I'm kind of losing what I am trying to say here. I was going to compare the two some more, but I think all I should say is they are both well worth a read, and if you know me in real life, feel free to ask to borrow either one! The gift of physical media is special, so that really goes for anything. Onto more books! 

- IONA 

Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About S(exism)ilence (NSFW)

 Today, I had a breakthrough in direct relation to my previous post, which I was planning on deleting, but I have ultimately decided to keep up for the comparison as well as the lack of desire to rewrite. A conversation in convincing my friend to listen to this album, and another relisten, brought me to a realization.

Once someone was asked (in response to telling another I had this album tattooed); "Does she hate herself". 

No, in fact, far from it. This specific question makes sense, in regards to Glassjaw's album "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Silence", a notorious record, shameless for it's woman-hating, utterly detestable lyrics. I am a woman, at the end of the day. Why would I resonate in any way? I have wondered myself. I have felt ashamed, in a way, for enjoying it as much as I continue to.

Condemning misogyny is boring. We are all (or I can only hope anyone reading this) is aware it is wrong. In my previous post, my goal was to focus on potentially discrediting the record, as I feel I have grown as a person, alas, I wasn't even in my twenties. I felt that maybe I had to prove myself, as I have recognized  patterns of internalized misogyny that ran rampant in my youth. Instances as shameful as avoiding woman-fronted works almost entirely, seeping into my own self-perception, refuting any attempts at being anything other than a sexual being for male pleasure. It's a lot to unpack, too much to get into. I could criticize most of the men in my developmental years, the sickening relationships I experienced in adolescence, the media I consumed. Western media has always portrayed women as superficial subhumans, in one way or another. 

Womanly empowerment is case-by-case. The rise of "trad-wives" on impressionable social media platforms, the off-putting jokes about woman-on-man domestic violence, and the sex-positive musicians that permit the pride of ones body. I never felt any resonance with any of this. I would never want my life to revolve around bowing down to a man, and not working for myself. I would never hit my partner, nor would I ever joke about it, especially as a victim myself, it just all seems misguided and unfair! I don't feel that these things move us forward as a society. Same goes for the sex-oriented music. I have never felt empowered by the lyrics that speak of "pussy-power", for lack of better word. In my history of being a woman, something I still feel is a curse instilled upon me, sex has never made me confident. Sure, the idea of asserted dominance via security within yourself is beautiful. But, it has taken away from the intimacy of the concept, especially in modern times. I do not feel like giving up my body proves anything, quite frankly, the thought makes me sick. I don't like hearing about sex, the older I get, maybe it's maturity, maybe it's reversion. It just all seems so perverse, parading ourselves as something men already see women as, meat. 

This within itself has caused me a great deal of alienation, discomfort in my own body as a result of the heinous perception bestowed upon me. It is, at the end of the day, my own personal issue, but I have found comfort in separating myself from a sexual being. Through brute force attempt, I have found myself constantly uncomfortable in trying to take pride in "being a woman". I feel there is misrepresentation, especially in western culture, where misogyny is prevalent, but albeit lesser than other cultures. Just what am I proving? I thought, within the context of the media I enjoyed, maybe I was the problem. 

Glassjaw's record is entirely spiteful against one woman. A woman who allegedly left him whilst he was hospitalized for Crohn's disease at 20, someone who in old *now deleted* blog posts, he deems a "whore". The word constantly comes up in the almost hour-long record, for some reason, I always still took a liking to hearing it. I initially considered this a result of afformentioned internalized misogyny, being excited by hateful language I passed off as perhaps some sort of semi-depraved fetish. I have referred to the album as "ambiguously horny", unable to identify why it made me feel the way it does, especially being that I find no pleasure in being degraded, especially after being young and thinking I did. It is easy to use sexual themes as a cop-out, but that's the stark contrast here; this album isn't sexual, never is the woman's body referred to, never is the sexual nature of a relationship mentioned, something rare coming from a bitter man. I have been around sick men, none of which I liked (for the record), who spoke about their sex life before and after a breakup, locker room talk of the degenerate being. I find this prevalent in media as well.

Metro Zu - Fukk

As I said, I have alleged myself "part of the problem", though, it never felt quite right. I listen to a fair share of music that honors women, and music that completely degrades what it is to be a girl. As I had previously written about Metro Zu, a rap group who's lyrics barely ever refer to an individual, instead reciting vulgar depictions of sexual acts, or disgusting details about female gentialia... Never does it focus on a woman's pleasure. It blatantly proves the rappers intent, with little to no shame. It's discomforting, it too makes me feel no pride, it just sounds fun. The same can be said about woman-rappers like Megan Thee Stallion (no personal vendetta, just a prevalent figure in woman-empowering media). Personally, I just don't enjoy the music of hers period, so I can note my hypocrisy in that sense. Music is expression, at the end of the day, and lyrics are telling to a characters personality and all around demeanor. Sure, maybe never to the extreme some things are mentioned, but sometimes you can put the pieces together. 

Kraanium - Chronicles of Perversion

In heavier genres I enjoy, like Deathcore or slam, I can note the same. An almost cross section between hatred and objectification, I can never pass it off as art. It is music I have enjoyed for a long time, that I admittedly love the sound of, with typically impressive vocal performance and heavy instrumentation. Be it that most lyrics in this realm are incomprehensible, I can somewhat ignore the themes. Though, one google search is enough to freak me out, sometimes. Deathcore is typically juvenile, a genre beginning in the 2000s Myspace circles, with mentions of "being done wrong" by women and seeking revenge, of sorts. More common in slam these lyrics center around resorting to violence, rape, and some sort -of sadistic torture in great detail. It is visually represented in the album art, too. It's disturbingly questionable, especially when bands have long spanning careers centered around these topics. And again, I note that this makes me feel no pride, nor does it make me feel shame. I just find it weird, and not really okay. It's got riffs though.

Though, throughout all of this, I have always felt some sort of power when listening to EYEWTKAS, and I realized why. I mean, I legitimately shake when I listen to the album. I found it in a very powerless time in my life, even passive aggressively playing it around my partner at the time. But what was I proving?

I suppose it is the concept of obsession, into a fit of defeat. Maybe I shouldn't feel confident about this, if I don't feel confident listening to music about being "sexy", right? True, however, I find that the idea that a woman can make a man feel so much disdain and anger empowering. I find the idea that someone could be so obsessed with the thought of someone somewhat pleasurable, and I guess that is where my mistake in finding it sexual lies. In knowing that this is being taken out on paper, in music, instead of against this woman, thinking that these words can really hurt them. It is written as some sort of "get-back". It's raw, and taboo, especially now. It is an expression of negative emotion, unbridled words that attempt to prove masculinity. With moments of despair, like the title track, it is obvious it is just pain, for lack of better phrasing. I find myself often putting on this record when I feel slighted, because it makes me feel unbreakable, for some reason. If a man wants to hurt me in some way, I feel as if I can make them feel the way the vocalist did in this album, it gives me an unfortunately grandiose sense of pride. That is, aside from the music just being killer anyway. I think being seen as a whore is comical, especially with the rise of incels, flaunting their disdain for something they innately desire, whilst knowing they can't attain it, an honest summary of this album.

Glassjaw - Majour

 I questioned my merit, my femininity, and my confidence in being a fan, I never would want to be pinned as a woman-hater, I am far from it. Though I am a bit insecure within my being, I love women that aren't me, I just don't know what it is to be a woman yet. I am learning, and I do plan to carry this girl (album) with me as I go

-IONA 

 

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Silence: A Hypocritical Retrospective

I was going to write about my top media of 2025, yeah, but I think with new years day being such a bust, my general eagerness to move on, and the fact I really already talk about my interests in excess, proves that endeavor unnecessary, to me.

 Ironically enough, this post is about a record that basically anyone that knew me (3-4 years ago) knows. 

It's no question I tend to latch onto music, at this point it's a way of organizing time periods for me. Glassjaw defined my late teens, undeniably. I listened to this album every. single. day. My Spotify wrapped one year only included tracks off the record as my top songs. It was and still is one of the only things I actually sing along to (maybe not now, but we will get into that). I got an obnoxiously bad tattoo of it at 18 (or 19? Maybe right when I turned 19, I don't know). I have a hefty amount of their merchandise. I even got lucky enough to catch them on their 2022 album anniversary tour, which still remains one of my favorite concerts ever. You could put a gun to my head, tell me to recite the whole album, and I would leave a living man. They're something special, man. 

Everything You Ever Wanted To Know Silence - Glassjaw's 2000 Debut... And honestly? It remains, at least to me, one of the best post-hardcore/metalcore (whatever) albums ever. It's intense, it's cathartic, it's melodic, and almost every track is an ear-worm. It's so precisely done, it's truly a mesh of everything I could ever want musically. The production is done by none other than Ross Robinson, known for picking up Nu-Metal bands like Limp Bizkit and Korn, and even producing an album that is more fitting here; At the Drive in's "Relationship of Command". He got the record put out through Roadrunner Records, which ended up a sort of dispute, leading them to encourage fans to pirate the album through sites like Limewire. Despite the label issues, it was a strong, solid debut, changing the game for the post-hardcore genre. Bands like Finch, Bring Me the Horizon, and Every time I die cite the record as a major influence. 

It's legacy lives on today,  I have noticed in the past few years an increase in Glassjaw fans around my age. When I had seen them, I think I was the youngest there, with the exception of show goers children that got dragged along. I believe this just came along with the post-screamo trend Metalcore resurgence, that has since fizzled out, with people moving onto other things. That's aside the point, though. A lot of newer bands seem to attempt to take on the sound and vibe curated in the album, but nobody can ever do anything like it. I mean that.

And even after all of this recognition I have to give to this album, I also must condemn it, as well. Part of me feels it is unnecessary, as the band has already denounced it fully. It is disgustingly misogynistic and juvenile, and I feel that perhaps it affected me in a way, but I can also say the complete opposite.

Riddled with the word "whore" so many times that you could make it a drinking game (sadly he did not even say it at the anniversary tour... yes sadly...) the album is a hate-fueled breakup record by a 21 year old man in the early 2000s, do with that what you will. That time period allowed for misogyny of all forms, whether it's blatant objectification or behavior from men that we now refer to as "incels". It wasn't necessarily condemned at the time, and men didn't have to veil themselves in womanly-praise to hide their true intent... I kind of side-eye any man that really likes this album, honestly. I writhe in my hypocrisy, because in a way, you could see this album in a myriad of ways. Maybe a coming of age record! A gym record! Or simply, something you just like the sound of. Because it sounds damn good.

Side note- I really wanted this post to focus on my denouncement of the misogyny of the album, but while listening to it, I felt like a gross hypocrite. It's too fucking good.

While it shouldn't be praised, I feel the lyrics are written in a Deftones-esque way, which at the time of my obsession was another band I (still) loved. Maybe it's the cadence of vocalist Daryl Palumbo's Patton-esque vocals that make it sound more sexually-tinged than it should, or maybe I'm the only sick freak that thinks that. The last track, "Motel of The White Locust", has lyrics "Get up off your knees and make me your god"... aside from all the semi-disturbing lyrics about frustration and violence toward women, but uhh, I'll leave it at that.

 Aside from the focus on his over-dramatic breakup, it is also regarding his at the time newly diagnosed Crohn's disease. The title track focuses on this, repeating he is the "matador of the children's ward", as an eldest patient of the children's hospital, and a reference to the red sheets matadors fight with. Truly poetic, man. It's one of the albums more subdued tracks, although I believe his pain is very blatant in this track. Allegedly, it was written about some girl who left him while he was in the hospital for his disease, quoting her name and all in old blog posts about the lyrics. Which, for the record, don't even bother reading it. It is so abhorrently boyish and angry, it's pathetic. Another thing I learned from those posts was that the first track "Pretty Lush" is one of the only upright straight-edge songs on the album. I forget they were an edge band, glad they didn't hone in on that, though. Straight edge and misogynistic? Jeez.

I'd like to highlight Siberian Kiss, as it was the first song I heard, actually I think through my manager (and now friend) at my old job. I was shocked when I heard it, genuinely, as I had only heard the following album "Worship and Tribute" (another masterpiece). I think it's straight up one of the best songs ever. "I'll keep you jealously to myself, In photos the size of a kiss, A kiss in the shape of a bullet"... iconic lyrics, I choose to have my own interpretation of the lyrics, as I let the actual meaning go over my head. Oh, and, in the movie "Ginger Snaps", a character is seen pulling up in a van with this song playing. Always thought that was cool, I watched the movie genuinely just for that reason. 

Anyways, yeah. Glassjaw, man. This album can be seen as a time piece, a representation of how not to speak about women, a concept album, whatever, that is the beauty of art. It's not really up for much interpretation, it's straight forward in it's demeanor. You get it. But hey, it has some of the most unique instrumentals in post hardcore, some of my favorite vocals, and it truly has influenced acts following. I love Glassjaw, Sorry, I really wanted this to be more intuitive and meaningful but upon a re-listen, I had to backtrack. I do condemn it, though. If you only listen to woman-hating music, get help.

Thanks again

-IONA