deleting my tumblr
"When there’s nothing left to burn…"
two years ago, i moved to new york in the last minute of february 14th, 2012.
two years ago on april 17th, one day after deleting all of my past work from the internet, i left.
there’s definitely been a part of me that has been extremely self-destructive and self-sabotaging.
but i am letting her go, now.
on my flight here, i finally understood why i always have this urge to “delete everything,” coincidentally around april on years i live in/move to new york.
this is not what i’m supposed to be doing.
what am i not supposed to be doing?
this is what i’ve been doing for several years now:
trying to be a “blogger.”
trying to get my artistic work to be liked.
i’ve been trying too hard.
in 2010 i saw some avenues for success, all of them too _easy_ for me: professional photographer, _blogger-solopreneur-business owner_.
i’ve done a lot of things throughout my life to be liked.
i don’t really want to do that anymore.
i like myself now.
i’m not perfect.
i have been mentally ill for most of my life up until now (and that is perfectly a-okay), and i am doing better at taking care of myself every day.
i have big fat dreams.
and they don’t involve getting “famous” on social media.
they don’t involve blogging or even writing.
they do involve mental illness/mental health.
(among many other things.)
i’m not ashamed of myself anymore, but i also don’t need to be open-to-death anymore, either.
i waste a lot of time thinking about social media and follower counts and stupid shit like that, when that’s really not at all important to me, and not at all related to the real work i want to do.
sometimes, deleting everything is self-sabotage.
but for me, it’s not.
it’s clearing the table.
it’s making space.
it’s starting over.
like moving to new york with only one suitcase and your cat.
it’s easter, and i didn’t think i would end up deleting anything this weekend, and i didn’t.
but my birthday is in a week, and i think it’s time.
i’m not deleting much this time.
just my tmblr, something i made two years ago, only because i was too scared to blog again.
hopefully, by the end of this week, i’ll have something new for you to look at.
i’ll keep writing because writing to me is like breathing.
but it’s time to move on past my own story, to something bigger than just me.
and oh, i didn’t finish recording seasongs. in fact, i’m probably wiping my bandcamp and soundcloud clean, to make space for actual music, with you know, melodies, soon.
so if you want to listen to or buy any of my poetry tracks, here you go:
literal shopkeeping news:
there are five you deserve better posters left. i will not be selling them anymore after this week. buy yours here.
if you want any of the past stuff i’ve made, now is the time to get it.
i have three poetry e-books that i will one day republish on paper. it is time to cancel my e-junkie account. go buy them here, they’re all sliding scale/pay what you can, anyway.
here is a link to Love, You, my first and only and pretty damn huge and helpful e-course, 25% of whose proceeds go to survivors of sexual assault.
i am willing to send The Thing About Thin, my book on eating disorders, resistance, and doing the shit that matters, unedited (so probably with a couple of broken links) to you if you want it. paypal me ANY amount you would like as a donation, to hello at iurisandthesea.com, and i’ll email you the pdf.
i think that’s about it.
so in one week, these things are going:
you deserve better posters even if they do not sell out, i am going to discontinue them.
any and all previous digital content i have created (e.g. Love, You)
what is NOT going:
my instagram. (surprisingly, i’m enjoying it quite a bit.)
i’ll ping you again when i make something new.
i hope you’ll like it.
oh yeah. i made a new twirrer. go follow, if you’d like.
thanks for being with me all these years, sea star.
you’re the best.
ex animo, sui.
"…you have to set yourself on fire.”
i woke up in a car
i woke up in new york city
from my sleep behind the wheel
caught a train to Poughkeepsie
and time stood still
so here i am
here i am
well i woke up in a car
i traced away the fog
so i could see the mississippi on her knees
i’ve never been so lost
i’ve never felt so much at home
please write my folks and throw away my keys