#rustbeltjessie

Why is it that many people think any prescribed medication is all well and good*, but the second you self-medicate (whether because you can’t access prescribed medications due to lack of health insurance, or because the medications you’ve been prescribed don’t work as well for you as whatever you self-medicate with, or any other reason), you’re an evil addict fucking over everyone in your life and many people you don’t even know?

Jessie Lynn McMains, from Reckless Chants #23: What Cannot Be Said

her tumblr

What time are we upon and where do I belong? (That’s a line from Francesca Lia Block’s novel Witch Baby; I’ve used it as a prompt in the past because I find it very evocative.)

Seek a sundial, stumble out

Of these shadows, shake the

Stardust from your eyes—

Surprise, this is still earth

And yet, you are as alien

As ever, these tongues that

Tear into each other mean

Nothing to you

They wear your face but you

Feel nothing

When their lips curl around

Your mother tongue

Close the door, count to ten

One of the best things about running my label is we get to release stuff by Jessie Lynn McMains. 

Their poetry gets better and better every year and it's a real joy to be a part of it.

GUEST POST: Jessie Lynn McMains on "Letterbomb"

We’re worried about the two of you, all our other friends said. The two of us being me and my then-best friend/roommate, Maggie. We thought our friends were being boring and just not getting it, but oh my God, I’d be worried about the girls we were then, too, if I encountered us now. Our whole situation was weird and sad. Long story short, earlier that year we’d burned half our bridges—some of them because they needed to be burnt, others simply because, hey, the match was already lit—and become this codependent unit of two. We barely left each other’s sides, we barely left our apartment, we were broke and depressed and self-medicating with pills and weed and liquor. I truly, truly do not understand why I romanticize ye olde days so much, because when I look at them objectively I think: My life is better in almost every way than it was back then. Yet I continue to long for the past. But I digress—it was September 2004, me and Maggie vs. the world, and the few friends we hadn’t set ablaze rarely wanted to hang out because they were either worried about us or depressed by our habits. Because a party is no longer fun when it happens every night.

It was a crushingly lonely time. As much as I loved Maggie, it’s impossible to have all your needs for intimacy, connection, and affection fulfilled by one person. All my other Chicago friends thought I was a bummer to be around, my faraway friends were, well, faraway, and my romantic life was a shambles. And the Fireside Bowl—the legendary punk venue of Chicago—shut down; that place was the site of so many of my best memories that losing it felt like I'd lost another old friend. The other thing I remember about that September was the constant staticy noise in my head. I likened it to having a radio antennae connected to my brain that picked up the soundwaves of the city, so not only did I have to listen to the voices that were already in my head—I heard everyone else’s chatter, too. Everything was lonely and hard and cold and loud and I was just fucking exhausted, really.

It was in that bleak landscape that I heard American Idiot. I hadn't loved a Green Day album since Nimrod. (Warning had a few great tracks, but the album as a whole didn't thrill me), but I instantly fell in love with American Idiot. And there was one particular track that felt like it was speaking directly to, for, about me--"Letterbomb." As I said in my piece about "She," I love the Green Day songs about/from the point of view of girls. They're so different from the casual misogyny that infects a lot of other pop punk bands' Songs About Girls (I'm not naming any names, but...) Sure, maybe the girls/women in Green Day's songs tend to be a bit larger-than-life, a bit idealized, but they're also rebels and troublemakers, and they have their own distinct emotions. It's so refreshing! American Idiot features three of them in a row--"She's A Rebel," "Extraordinary Girl," and "Letterbomb."

"Letterbomb" opens with the unmistakeable vocals of none other than Kathleen Hanna, someone whose words and songs had meant so much to me for nearly as long as Billie Joe's had. In her sweet-bratty singsong she chanted the exact thing I was feeling: nobody likes you / everyone left you / they're all out without you / having fun... The song is a poppy punk rock rager, wherein Billie reassured me that as bad as things were, my life wasn't over (it ain't over till you're underground). And then the final verse harkens back to that lonely feeling from the opening. She said, I can't take this place / I'm leaving it behind / Well she said, I can't take this town / I'm leaving you tonight. I heard that and I thought--maybe I needed a break from the city that was beating me down. Though I loved Chicago, maybe what I needed more than anything was a change of scenery. And some new friends.

Other things I’ve been doing lately that have helped with the springtime restlessness and yearning include:

—Having picnics. I’ve been on four picnics in the past three weeks—twice solo, and twice with other people—and I think I’m going to continue it as much as possible throughout the summer. Food tastes better outside, sitting in the sunshine or the shade of a big old tree, and even better if you also have a good book to read while eating (or good company if it’s not a solo picnic). Also, it doesn’t require a huge time commitment—two of these picnics have been on my lunch breaks at work. All you have to do is take the food you packed or the food you purchased and eat outside and boom, impromptu picnic!

—Taking different routes home/to work than the ones I usually take.

—Wandering through a park or cemetery at least once a week.

—Also at least once a week, I try a cafe I’ve never been to before, or try a new drink or food at a favorite cafe.

—Riding my bike as much as possible.