what does it mean to abolish the world

53/1700$

PP: [email protected]

K0fi

53/1700$

PP: [email protected]

K0fi

This (paywalled) poem turns on the exhausting and deadening labor of the First Lady, when trapped into a meaningless marriage during which she is made to bear her husband's infidelity, and the glassiness of a pained devotion. Here are some excerpts to help contextualize the poem:

Not a face in the recognizable

attempt at a game;

a dress as a bracketing of pearls,

left to crease something silver and proper.

and

There are pews straddling her mind;

unready for a break in alterity,

tumbling across a paralysis of touch

the unfurling of her feathery hair.

anyone have $10 or anything for a family of 7, 4 disabled, 2 kids under 15, for food and $39 for my meds that i take to stay sane as I have OCD BPD and severe depression ive been out of them FOUR DAYS freaking out right now kinda bad. Im an autistic disabled lesbian we need any help to get through this pride month anything helps be it a dollar or less. also please help these kids get food to eat this summer im at wits end someone help us

p3ypal: avatarerin

k0fi: gothkittygalore

v3nmo: skiesofperiwinkle

53/1700$

PP: [email protected]

K0fi

Still from the visuals to BIG DOG by Slimeroni

I wrote this (publicly available) essay indexing the ways through which Black cishet men reinvent themselves as "exceptional Negroes" propped up through self produced media. I also expand on the afterimage of the "exceptional Negress" and on Black women so eager for the spotlight they might empty themselves for it. Here are excerpts to help contextualize the essay:

Hereby, some (of many) Black men, numb to the unvisible grinding machinery of Black cisheteropatriarchy, have been creating crossfades of scripts about what it meant to truly being Black, male, powerful, alpha, and therefore "special". Subjects, or rather, psychic constraints, a willful bordering of the mind, multiply and echo. It's not so much about Black women as it is about powerlessness rehearsing itself into a cinematographic and libidinal "kingdom".

and

Through the evasion of a vexed Black masculinity and the greediness of being wanted, special Black men, as in "exceptional Negroes" cut through their "race" with a deep seated disgust, as a pledge of allegiance to the power holders they hauled themselves to. They want to be the only one, because to be the only one is always to be the best one. Thomas Clarence didn't so much sell his sister as he used her as a foil to accentuate his "exceptionalism", his "uniqueness", to use the interplay of shadow and light for a sharper photograph. Simultaneously prosperity pastor, good cop, "little child, running wild", New York lover, hip hop aficionado, megalomaniac, Eric Adams (mis)uses the signifiers of Blackness that he glues to his personal biography as a way to get New York to trust in the trials and tribulations that would made his a success story. And yet, he seems intent on prophesing his own rise to the top and his exceptionality, tying the death of the city to his personal failure, demanding to be believed in as a pastor herding his flock.

Candace Owens, as an "exceptional Negress", cannot be reduced to respectability politics; the slashing of Black victims of carceral violence, the open allegiance to white supremacy, are as much graves left for the thrill of having been the only one. Is that a home you're looking for ? Or a stepladder ? In any case, welcome to your own treachery.

If you like the essay, consider tipping:

PP: [email protected]

I wrote this (publicly available) essay (one of my first essays) as a rendering of the poetics of Black feminine pleasure as sounded out through Black female singers and rappers. Here are some excerpts to contextualize the essay:

The controversy around the song WAP (Wet Ass Pussy) is rooted in historical schemas around Black female sexual labor; we (we being the writer, but also Black women) could also say, more crudely (and violently), that it's rooted in white men raping Black women and Black girls as the same time they have openly displayed disgust&revulsion towards them. Black female flesh on display; a temptation impossible to resist; as they tweet their indignation, they watch the video again and again. What infuriates them isn't the bare skin, nor it is the open sexuality of the movement; what infuriates them is that they're kept out. This world isn't for them; this world was never for them.

and

Rico Nasty also indulges in everything else that can bring in fleshy excitement; here she is, in a hotel room, her bed adorned with plates of pancakes decorated with berries, a platter of hamburgers on her right, one of veggies on her left, a cup of champagne in her hand. As she raps about going hard, we (we being the listeners and viewers) must comprehend that excess is her own sonic&physical choreography towards personal bliss; uninterested in moderation, she must go to the extreme of her sensory universe to feel any kind of satisfaction.

and

Meanwhile Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion continue to ask for the right, no, the necessity of (cisgender) sexual arousal. They're engaged in what L.H Stallings calls funky erotixxx. They won't leave until they've came, and who can blame them ? The beat repeats "There is hoes in this house". This repetition is a provocation; a dare; an admission of inexistent guilt and absent shame.

If you love/adore this essay, consider tipping:

PP: [email protected]

53/1700$

PP: [email protected]

K0fi

I wrote this (publicly available) essay (one of my first essays) as a rendering of the poetics of Black feminine pleasure as sounded out through Black female singers and rappers. Here are some excerpts to contextualize the essay:

The controversy around the song WAP (Wet Ass Pussy) is rooted in historical schemas around Black female sexual labor; we (we being the writer, but also Black women) could also say, more crudely (and violently), that it's rooted in white men raping Black women and Black girls as the same time they have openly displayed disgust&revulsion towards them. Black female flesh on display; a temptation impossible to resist; as they tweet their indignation, they watch the video again and again. What infuriates them isn't the bare skin, nor it is the open sexuality of the movement; what infuriates them is that they're kept out. This world isn't for them; this world was never for them.

and

Rico Nasty also indulges in everything else that can bring in fleshy excitement; here she is, in a hotel room, her bed adorned with plates of pancakes decorated with berries, a platter of hamburgers on her right, one of veggies on her left, a cup of champagne in her hand. As she raps about going hard, we (we being the listeners and viewers) must comprehend that excess is her own sonic&physical choreography towards personal bliss; uninterested in moderation, she must go to the extreme of her sensory universe to feel any kind of satisfaction.

and

Meanwhile Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion continue to ask for the right, no, the necessity of (cisgender) sexual arousal. They're engaged in what L.H Stallings calls funky erotixxx. They won't leave until they've came, and who can blame them ? The beat repeats "There is hoes in this house". This repetition is a provocation; a dare; an admission of inexistent guilt and absent shame.

If you love/adore this essay, consider tipping:

PP: [email protected]

Still from the visuals to BIG DOG by Slimeroni

I wrote this (publicly available) essay indexing the ways through which Black cishet men reinvent themselves as "exceptional Negroes" propped up through self produced media. I also expand on the afterimage of the "exceptional Negress" and on Black women so eager for the spotlight they might empty themselves for it. Here are excerpts to help contextualize the essay:

Hereby, some (of many) Black men, numb to the unvisible grinding machinery of Black cisheteropatriarchy, have been creating crossfades of scripts about what it meant to truly being Black, male, powerful, alpha, and therefore "special". Subjects, or rather, psychic constraints, a willful bordering of the mind, multiply and echo. It's not so much about Black women as it is about powerlessness rehearsing itself into a cinematographic and libidinal "kingdom".

and

Through the evasion of a vexed Black masculinity and the greediness of being wanted, special Black men, as in "exceptional Negroes" cut through their "race" with a deep seated disgust, as a pledge of allegiance to the power holders they hauled themselves to. They want to be the only one, because to be the only one is always to be the best one. Thomas Clarence didn't so much sell his sister as he used her as a foil to accentuate his "exceptionalism", his "uniqueness", to use the interplay of shadow and light for a sharper photograph. Simultaneously prosperity pastor, good cop, "little child, running wild", New York lover, hip hop aficionado, megalomaniac, Eric Adams (mis)uses the signifiers of Blackness that he glues to his personal biography as a way to get New York to trust in the trials and tribulations that would made his a success story. And yet, he seems intent on prophesing his own rise to the top and his exceptionality, tying the death of the city to his personal failure, demanding to be believed in as a pastor herding his flock.

Candace Owens, as an "exceptional Negress", cannot be reduced to respectability politics; the slashing of Black victims of carceral violence, the open allegiance to white supremacy, are as much graves left for the thrill of having been the only one. Is that a home you're looking for ? Or a stepladder ? In any case, welcome to your own treachery.

If you like the essay, consider tipping:

PP: [email protected]

This (paywalled) poem turns on the exhausting and deadening labor of the First Lady, when trapped into a meaningless marriage during which she is made to bear her husband's infidelity, and the glassiness of a pained devotion. Here are some excerpts to help contextualize the poem:

Not a face in the recognizable

attempt at a game;

a dress as a bracketing of pearls,

left to crease something silver and proper.

and

There are pews straddling her mind;

unready for a break in alterity,

tumbling across a paralysis of touch

the unfurling of her feathery hair.

53/1700$

PP: [email protected]

K0fi