The other day a follower DM’d me on Instagram and asked this question: Why do you share the pictures you do on social media and write about the things you write about?
Basically, why are you posting pics of yourself in your chonies and writing about intimate things that most people don’t even want to revisit in their memories let alone write about?
My first reaction was to respond with some troll-y defensive quip: Because your mom politely asked me to while she was gargling my dog’s balls and giving me a reach around. Super rude. And imagistic in the worst way possible. There’s a special place in hell for people like me, I'm sure.
But then it got me thinking, why the fuck? It’s not art for the sake of art. Or expression for the sake of expression. If that were the case then I would write in a fucking journal, frame a picture of myself, put it on my nightstand and call it a day.Read More