Because I like you.

Nailed to Sound of It,

I don't know how it happens. Not knowing how to begin. How the day opens and closes. Glass doors swinging. How everyone is plugged to their musics, tiny tendrils blocking out all possibility for human embarrassment. Ode to the things we buy to hide. I am looking at the things people carry on themselves that sustains the uniformity and distance. The embarrassment of such objects to conceal oneself is an aesthetic we'd rather not install on the contextual floors of art. Shit, I'd rather not. Its too embarrassing it hurts. But how to expose it and is it worth something to expose? Should this kind of embarrassment sell? Could I sell photo prints of me in close-up holding or wearing the things I own in order to hide? What are those things? Here, I'll give you a list:

1. chanel sunglasses
2. books
3. laptop
4. earphones
5. clothes
6. jewelry

But lets get more subtle:

1. mascara
2. eye-liner
3. friends
4. facebook
5. font-types
6. family parties
7. karaoke
8. the ideal lover
9. the general ideal
10. tastes in general
Today I am not embarrassed about these things but I can't promise it'll be that way tomorrow. I am asking that you be embarrassed with me if your in the mood. Did I tell you about the boy who shot himself in the head in front of a video camera at my highschool at 7am and left me a poem in his email? I'm beginning to think about art and trauma. Video, a gunshot to the head, and a poem. Wondering what all this means. Asking my 18 year old self what really happened. If it was him this whole time that lead me to a media program in some gateway to the Midwest. If its him that follows me sometimes, that makes the dvd skip the way it does, that makes my computer freeze, that makes the eject button not work. And of course i know its not him. He's not here with me. He's in a video with his head blown apart while high off acid. That December morning in 2000 i woke up unusually early, as if i heard the gunshot from miles away. That same day when all the students were dismissed from their classes i went home, prayed for him, and took a nap.

Today, I feel like him. I think I'm becoming him. Re-watching American Beauty with a classroom full of students who seem to get it. But I don't get it. how 10 years could pass right before your eyes and nothing changes. You become who you always were-- just an insecure high-school kid with big dreams and nothing to lose.

Love.
Not a Cliptomaniac but it sounds like a good project