I’ve been so busy doing pointless things- like raising Jonas-worshipping brats and graduating from clown college- that i only checked pp like twice over the last 5 yrs. i got all wrapped up in weird native stuff again, like planning powwows and being hated, that i almost forgot my salad days that weren’t. it is amazing how much being Indian is like being a punk:
1. everyone hates you. or seems to because of the unbearable nihilism. read- “are you being sarcastic?” “ohhh, i don’t even know anymore.” Isn’t learned helplessness darling?
2. no one graduates from high school, and if they do, their ability to read alienates others. note- this is somewhat sarcastic, but only slightly.
3. everyone accuses everyone else of being a sell-out, being a bia infiltrator, other various paranioa.
4. there is constant pressure to prove how indian you are. especially in as visual and blatant a way as possible. to the point of caricature or stereotype. and still, they plot your downfall. crabs in buckets.
5. eventually, even the most committed and sincere give up and disappear into the anonymous cities and suburbs, giving into dockers and rearing children who know nothing of mommy and daddys’ loved and pained glory days.
yeah. that was fun.
so no one told me watchmaker was gone. i knew the magazine was folding, but i never thought the boards would. i checked about 3 yrs ago, and had the disgusted realization that i had once DEFENDED emo. yuck. there were near nothing but make-out club scensters discussing the merits of pedro the lions latest album. I’m sure they were lovely and all, but i dove for cover. so i missed all of jonny’s baiting and pretending to leave. and todd’s pretend blog. and the time to grieve this thing that ya’ll have had. i found a eulogy on youtube with some of you on it , and it was like two friggin yrs old! needless to say, i cried my big baby eyes out. i can’t find the archives i need. i need dorkus and seitan virtual slugfests. i need jonny’s pathetic vitriol. i can’t pretend to be over it or that i really wish i hadn’t fallen out of touch and spoken again to people who aren’t even alive anymore. or met almost all of you who showed after my absence. i need to write this out. and if this was on old pp, i would be banished. i almost want that. but i do appreciate the general tone of maturity here. very strange. sound of crickets or whooping crane would be good now. but i am glad to be here now.
“Hello. My name is Nicole, and I’m a Punkaholic” maybe i am a xxEmoxx. sick.