here’s the thing: everyone complains about late capitalism and how alienated and isolated we all are. everyone acknowledges this, and reassures each other of this, alone.
you need to get out of yourself, and your head, and your small bubble of one, and you need to go see old friends, or former friends, or people in your social circle who are just meh, or your annoying roommates, or your co-workers, or your former co-workers, or your lame family members, or your lame and bigoted family members, or strangers at a bar, or whomever, and party. meeting people is praxis, strengthening relationships is praxis, making yourself seen and vulnerable to another is praxis. please, guys, go out.
this, here, now, is a facsimile, mediated through a thousand screens. go kiss, go get kissed, go reject a kiss, go be denied a kiss. go out.
It’s always a blowie party everywhere I go. Only way I can temporarily fill the gaping hole in my soul and chest
Call me a Hollow the way I Bleach my sorrows with swallows