9.06.2009

Music, Poverty, and Social Alienation

Now you can have all three! Being a college student with few resources, no job, a guitar, and weird ideas helps. It's so glamorous to be me. I'm just glad I can crash at Derek's house.

Zombie Chipmunk at 7:24 PM

6.21.2009

Bears and Death Dreams

For the past few months, bears have haunted my dreams. Nearly three times per week I would awake after a terrifying attack by a brown or black bear. Each time I would be mauled yet not die of my immense wounds. The bear would begin eating me while I was fully conscious. The pain was vivid, frequently waking me up.

In the past two weeks, my bear dreams have subsided only to be replaced by nightmares of Derek dying. It usually happens in a post-apocalyptic city where we must scurry around like vermin trying to survive. Each time, he slips off of a ledge or is killed suddenly by a stranger. I can feel his physical presence in the dreams - an energy near me - but then it gets less and less detectable as I realize he is gone. Once it fades away I'm alone, completely, existentially alone. In the dream I physically ache and hurt after he passes. I'm so scared of losing him when I'm not ready to... but I'm also scared that I'll never be prepared to say goodbye to the love of my life. I don't think anyone is ever ready for that. I shouldn't think about it anymore. I won't think about it anymore.

Zombie Chipmunk at 4:25 PM

6.19.2009

Halloween Plans!

I want to have an actual Halloween party this year. Derek and I were rather disappointed at the lack of spirit last year, so I've decided to plan a classic Halloween bash for my friends. Details will need to be worked out, of course, but the basic plan is to find a suitable location (preferably someone's house), make some simple decorations, concoct an array of ghoulish food and drinks and dress up in my deadest look. Add some canned and possibly live music and it's a party. Alternatively, I could make it more of a themed event (i.e Universal Monsters, horror icons.) I don't want it to be a total gothfest... meaning I'd like to avoid sitting in a graveyard with a Bela Lugosi's Dead shirt on whilst swooning over the macabre ambiance of the night when the veil that separates the living and the dead tatters. (Although, that is totally something I would do. I'm so horribly lame.)

I'd like it to be fun yet elegant, evoking the campy nostalgia of black and white monster movies while capturing a more serious feeling for the meaning of the night and the traditions we associate with it. I'd want it to be something beyond, something unleashed... Something that combines a fascination with the macabre, the strange, and the grotesque with a bowl of candy corn.

Zombie Chipmunk at 6:45 PM

6.16.2009

Evening primrose and hair dye

Yesterday was Derek's 22nd birthday. We celebrated by seeing Terminator: Salvation, eating three-quarters of a tub of popcorn and then hanging out with his family. The movie was better than we expected; however, the role of John Connor was played by Christian Bale. He used his deep, laughably forced Batman voice at one point. The rest of the roles were well cast, in my opinion.

About a week ago I dyed my hair forest green. The color is almost too bright for my tastes, so I may dye it partially or completely black. Green bangs with black locks would look a bit cybergoth, but I don't mind. (There is a long distance between 2-tone hair and 2-tone hair with obscenely large neon wool dreadfalls.)

The onset of summer has stripped down my fashion ideals... in the cool months I can layer fishnets with ripped pants, homemade skirts and warm jackets to achieve a comfy yet "expressive" look. In the warm months the most I can stand to put on my body is a skirt or light pants and a tank top. This poses several problems. One: less clothing = sun exposure. I both fear and loathe the effects of the sun. I want to be as pale as death, goddammit! I refuse to get skin cancer! I dislike the red undertones of my skin enough already; summer just means that red becomes my overtone. (My skin becomes red in the heat, even if I'm not in the sun.) Two: I don't look good in summer clothes. Light colors generally make me look like death warmed up, in a very bad way. I can't seem to find darker colored clothing in light fabrics. Three: sweat and humidity make my hair insane, therefore I must let it do whatever it wants during the summer. I can only dye it bright colors and hope it gets cold again before I shave it all off in a desperate attempt to not die of heat stroke.

That being said, my solutions consist of staying indoors, going out in the evening or later if necessary, wearing pajamas often and putting my hair in obnoxiously adorable pigtails to get it off of my neck. Additionally, I swear by SPF 100+ and limit my make-up significantly.

Since Derek got out of the hospital I've been thinking of getting a tattoo to commemorate our relationship. I don't want his name tattooed on me simply because I feel that it would cheapen the gesture, and only serve to illicit negative response in, well, everyone I know. Of course, they would ask, "do you really want his name on your body forever? You two'll most likely break up and yadda yadda yadda..." I'd much rather have them comment on how nice my design is and then have me explain what it means. I've been reading about funerary art and symbolism lately, and I found that evening primrose symbolizes eternal love, hope, and youth. Naturally, I think it is a fitting symbol of the relationship I share with Derek. It is also a simple and elegant flower, perfect for a tattoo.

Zombie Chipmunk at 1:49 PM

4.27.2009

Mental health and the lack thereof is hilarious.

The other students in my psychology class guffawed hysterically in today's lecture. Our professor explained the different types of therapy - psychoanalytic, humanistic, cognitive-behavioral, etc. - while my peers giggled and commented to themselves about "crazy" people. Apparently everyone who goes to therapy is crazy and thus subhuman. When the professor began discussing large mental hospitals, such as Central State Hospital in Milledgeville, everyone laughed and squirmed in their seats at the thought of 13,000 people being institutionalized and having to essentially fend for themselves because the inpatient population was too large to be supported by the local town. If I'm not being perfectly clear, they thought this was hilarious. Not just funny... absolutely, gut-bustingly comical.

"It was like a whole city full of crazies! Why would they (read: wholesome, normal members of society) allow them (the crazies) to have their own place?"

While I don't expect much from my classmates, they really disappointed me today. I almost became openly offended in class. I never do that. What really embittered me was that no one seemed to realize that the "crazies" did not choose to be there... All the crazy folks didn't just get together one day and decide, "Gee, we should all go to this big compound with high security and hire a bunch of people to forcibly restrain, sedate and maybe even physically abuse us if we try to leave!" Oh well. I'm glad that I didn't refute their misconceptions by sharing my own experiences; I now know exactly the level of respect I would get from that. It's not only a matter of a lack of respect for the fact that people with mental illness are still human, it's a matter of their utter lack of insight and compassion in regards to the far-reaching effects of mental illness. They probably know someone or are related to someone with a mental illness, and here they are acting as if only some kind of defective freak could be effected by it. I wanted to point this out in class, but I declined because I felt like it wouldn't matter if I said anything.

Zombie Chipmunk at 9:58 AM

3.13.2009

Dark Matter and Gender-transcending Superheroes

Derek and I discussed making an experimental film about an ordinary human thrust into a pan-dimensional limbo full of non-humanoid superheroes. They would communicate through a combination of colors, patterns, shape-shifting, and sound. The only problem we encountered is that we wouldn't want the human to be male or female, so as to avoid gender stereotypes. So Derek suggested that the human superhero should actually be two humans in one body. A male and female would combine once they entered the pan-dimensional limbo, thus forcing them to endure each others consciousness while helping keep balance in the multiverse.

Earlier today, I read a space.com article about dark matter, which suggested that dark matter "protects" galaxies. In the comments, someone posted, "Maybe dark matter is really God's love. He's the only thing holding everything together and protecting it. That's why we'll never be able to directly observe it... only its effects." Normally I would write that commentary off as a zealot's unscientific babble, but it describes the superhero concept Derek and I were contemplating. We came up with a catch - no being in the multiverse is allowed to know that the pan-dimensional heroes exist, lest the balance of worlds be set off kilter.

Zombie Chipmunk at 12:06 PM

2.22.2009

Collages + Behavior Modification = Guitar

I know that makes no sense, but I'm working on a behavior modification project for psychology class. My target behavior is to start making more collages. If I complete 3 collages this week, I will reward myself. I don't know what the reward should be yet. Probably a Snickers or some other candy. I don't care if I get rewarded but we're required to incorporate some kind of reinforcement technique.


Michael-angelo bought me a new Epiphone SG guitar... it's so badass looking. What I really love about it is the playability, and the lightness of it. It's (gasp) better than my Telecaster in those regards. Also, it gets a really full rhythm tone and handles distortion well. I don't care for the treble setting, but the tone control and pickup selector make it easier to get the sound I want as opposed to the one volume control knob on my Tele. I still love the Celtic knot inlay on my Telecaster, though.


I need a new strap lock for my flying V... And a new strap to go with it. Ah well. I now have more guitars and effects pedals than I'll ever need. I'm going to record some songs soon, too. I've been trying to get this specific feeling/sound in my songs... The only way I can describe it is the music is yellow and orange and the vocals are indigo.

Zombie Chipmunk at 10:48 AM

12.05.2008

School, Guitars, New Songs, Arts & Crafts, etc.

I'm finally comfortable practicing guitar and writing songs around Derek. I used to feel silly, but he encourages me. I've been sewing lately, too. I re-purposed a basmati rice bag into a lined purse/tote with a separate zippered pocket in front. I'm going to make another tote from a bandanna I tie-dyed a couple years ago and embellish it with denim jean pockets and a denim strap. Then I'm gonna try to sell them, because I need money but don't need more tote bags. I feel crafty and creative.

At the same time, I'm really pissed off. I'm tired of self-proclaimed punks. I'm tired of Democrats and Republicans and Socialists. I'm tired of the pretentiousness of the indie businesses in Atlanta. Everyone has a harder core than thou attitude. "Oh look, our store is quirky and novel! Buy our overpriced shit!" I'm tired of hearing about how great Old Wave at the Masquerade is. (Why the hell would I want to hang around with goth oldsters, creepy fetish people, and throngs of young drunk and high poser punks? And who the fuck likes new wave, anyway? If they played Sisters of Mercy I might go, but I doubt they do.)

Everyone is peddling a lifestyle, and I'm sick of it. I want my own goddamn lifestyle. I want to be a poor college student and eat ramen in my friend's attic and talk about how the world will end. I want to write songs, sing, dance, and make a life with my guy. And I want to do all that without buying overpriced corset tops, skinny jeans, band tees, and boots. I find my boots on the side of the road and at yard sales. I get my clothes from friends and relatives and the thrift store. I safety pin whatever is too big on me, and sew more onto whatever is too small.

Zombie Chipmunk at 7:48 PM

10.25.2008

Sometimes I feel as if...

I'm not radical in the right (read: cool) ways, and therefore people would find my zines boring. Firstly, I'm not queer or transgender. Secondly, I'm not a person of color in the way that means "not white, because white people are boring." Thirdly, I am not a grrl or somebody who loves The Smiths and wishes it was 1990 again. Oh, and I'm not quirky in a charming post-indie way.

I wear well-worn t-shirts with jeans or skirts and old black boots which I glued back together recently after wearing them broken since I found them on the side of the road two years ago. I seldom buy new clothes; when I do, it's underwear, and I haven't worked up the nerve to ask my parents for money for a new bra or pair of panties in years. (It's not that my parents wouldn't gladly buy me clothes; I just feel guilty for asking them for something that isn't food or shelter.) The most expensive article of clothing I own is a leather rocker jacket that my boyfriend bought me last Christmas.

I usually take public transit to see him once per week, then stay with him and his parents for a few days, sometimes longer if there isn't something to do at home. They live in a two story suburban house with carpeting, central heating and a full kitchen - luxuries my family has never seemed to grasp. (Our 103 year old fixer-upper is screaming to be patched up and properly furnished.) We watch television, play games, talk and plan our future. Sometimes we go out and see a movie. We try to take walks everyday, too.

My dad meets us halfway when he picks me up because it's such a long drive. When I'm home I try to do the dishes and help out with cleaning. The rest of the time I hang out with my dad and help him with various projects, some regarding the house, some with the local community center, some musical. When my mom gets home from work I'll help with dinner, chat about my 7 month old niece, and make sure to give her a big hug to let her know that I don't like my boyfriend's mom better than her.

I make my zines and collages and sew silly plushies and talk on the phone to my friend in art school who is always busy. I hardly see her anymore, which makes me sad because I like sitting in her grandma's attic, listening to indie rock and talking about how we feel like the world is going to end soon.

I've come to realize that I live amongst anarchists, nihilists, misanthropes, and geniuses. My boyfriend is the last person anyone would expect to be radical. He dresses in plain neutral-colored t-shirts and blue jeans except for his Super Mario and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tees. He seldom speaks in social situations save for short responses. He spends his time at his computer transliterating and translating random text from one language to another, typing countless text files of episode lists and information from foreign shows and movies. He loves upbeat 80s pop and power ballad-esque television theme songs. He loves Sonic the Hedgehog. Yet he is the most free-minded individual I have ever met.

Ugh. I'm so tired. More later. I need to go ahead and get to the point, whatever that may be. I just felt like rambling.

Zombie Chipmunk at 10:21 PM

9.13.2008

Punk's not dead, it just deserves to die

I'm working on my second issue of I Hate This Street. This one is going to be about chickenshit conformists of many varieties, handmade stuff, outsider art, If Coffeehouse, and anything else that comes to mind.

Zombie Chipmunk at 3:34 AM