Hall of Mirrors & Blog Posts


I took these creepy, funny mirror pictures for a particular something recently and I feel like they're a perfect representation of a bunch of things right now. I love the warped, distorted shapes made by the strangely shaped mirror, and the marks and scratches all over it that create a kind of complex grain, made over time. You can even see that part of the mirror is broken. And beyond that, the lights creating little halos and leaks, and the sort of dull-yet-saturated colours of these images, all combine to make the perfectly weird, perfectly incidental strangeness.

They're me but not in any direct sense. They're not an accurate representation in terms of real shapes, but somehow they feel so close to me. They feel like they're a very real representation of me. Who is this warping, pink in the dark sort of person? There's something happy about them.

It kinda represents a lot of how I feel. How things are and how I like to talk and make things. Everything's strange and wild, wacky and sudden. A light bulb swinging back and forth. It's like this blog too, or what I want to do with it at least. I like posting a bunch of paintings and talking about them, and I like posting wishlists of dresses or Pompompurin merch I've been looking at, but more and more I like this place as a rambling spot. A place to put nonsensical collages of pictures, streams of consciousness, and diary entries.

It's weird, this is the place I write the most long form content, but it's also almost the most secretive place, in that it's not read that much and it's such a jumble. An endless online memento box. And I like most when I look back on things and it feels that way. I like the open-ended endlessness of it. I can just write about anything, upload a poorly lit mirror selfie, and I'm done.

And it makes so much sense to have this be some place I can go to stream my thoughts out through keyboard presses. A little cave where nothing matters. I could just post 7 cute pictures of Paul Anka accompanied by my assessment of some cheesecake. And that's sort of the beauty of it. That warping and moving of everything. Visually, and in your thoughts, that's the most beautiful thing somehow. That everything is twisting and turning and shimmering and dimming all the time.

Also, yes I have been listening to Paul Anka today. But not eating cheesecake. That'll come later.


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