Knowledge runs down.

Why do all mixed media art pieces look homemade and poor quality?

I love DIY. I love innovation and quirkiness and messiness and not being perfect.

But so much mixed media art looks like something you did while watching Love Island and not really paying attention to what was going on. Even when there is intention visible in a piece, the layering effect looks like something Aunt Gloria smashed together from thrift store art supplies. And even with portraits, which I enjoy most of all the mixed media I've seen.

Or like an over-done scrapbook page.

I don't know what it is about the mish-mashed, mis-matched pieces that gives me the ick so hard! Especially because in found art, I love that eclectic and homemade, spontaneous feeling.

As a single piece presented for consumption, it's kitsch. Not art.

I love zines, for example. Which you'd think would be on this edge, but not quite!

I don't want to be a bitch but mixed media doesn't look thought out or artfully designed.

I'm trying to create an art journal and it's a real problem for me that the idea of making things with lace, stamps, little bits of trash stuck together... ew.

I want to use my art journal to explore different media and learn the patterns and attributes of supplies I'm not familiar with. I want to be loose and impulsive and just try a lot of different things. And art journals that have that kitschy, over-patterned and involved look are intriguing! But my eyes don't have anywhere to rest and I end up just overwhelmed and distracted from the piece.

Maybe that's the key for my own work – making sure there is an actual composition and somewhere for your eyes to go. Rather than just wandering a chaotic pile of shapes.

It may be the case that I am stuffy and perfectionist and that I'll update my preferences, but I think the mixed media pieces lack a sophistication and clarity of message/feeling.

That said, I am immensely pleased with the watercolor base layer I developed last night for the first page of my art journal.

I do also want to incorporate writing, but not copy-paste stamps from elsewhere. Things from my head or that mean something to me.

Maybe that's the challenge? The quotes I see other artists choosing are over-used and boring to me?

Love and probably uneducated opinions, Jordie

P.S. Even as I add the images into this piece, I am disagreeing with myself about the pieces lacking intentionality.

My friends and I are going to track our hormone cycles together. (See: Witchy friends piece.)

Two of us don’t get periods anymore because of our IUDs. And we’re all curious about our individual patterns of progesterin and estrogen levels.

My best friend and I researched the basics the other week and realized we were taught the absolute bare minimum in health classes. We know there’s a cycle but we never learned the material ways it could influence our moods, reactions, abilities, etc.

Apparently there is a very close link with serotonin levels in the brain and estrogen levels. About midway through your cycle, your estrogen drops drastically and can create low mood due to lowered serotonin levels.

Considering I take medication to fix my fucked up serotonin levels… this seems like pertinent information.

In the post-Roe era, it feels somewhat risky to track your period. If you know it, someone else could, too. Reproductive privacy is IMPORTANT.

It does seem like a crucial part of my own biology that I have a poor understanding of, though. So I’d like to deepen my self-knowledge.

And having my little coven to discuss and compare with will be special.

As a side note, when I tried to start a group of connected women in the beginning of the fall, it fizzled because there were too many people with too much going on. We only met once.

But I’ve joined a crafts night with some women my age and it’s exactly that. Coven vibes! Sharing life stories! Strength in safety and an open and receptive arena!

Love and sisterhood, Jordie

Je voudrais ecrire un journal en espanol. Il peux apprendre la langue nouvelle a moi.

Mais c’est trop lentement, my brain whines.

Mais oui… voulez-vous faire un podcast a place d’un journal?

Peut-etre….

Je peux le faire avec un journal des artes? Ou je peux rester avec mon bullet journal et pas faire des choses plus dificils just because it sounds cool.

Espanol me donne plus que francais, plus que Hindi, parce que je pouvais l’utiliser chaque jour avec mes etudiants. Alors… pourquoi j’hesite?

It’s work. It’s a longterm commitment and project and I am doubtful of my follow-through ability. Especially when I’m currently pursuing art.

(It’s like every other day I can draw… but only every other day. Le practique c’est nulle.)

I think I’m whinier in French.

Quand I finish my online teacher certification, je peux spend quelque des monies ($1500!) that I’ve been spending every three months on the teacher training on other classes instead.

But only ones that meet in person! I could take creative writing, art classes, Spanish!

But I’m over my head already in terms of projects. And I just mindlessly agreed to crochet my friend plant leaf coasters. Because I love her. Le sigh. As always, too much to do and too little time it feels.

Love and impatience, Jordie

Perhaps it was inevitable I would start studying art. After all, my obsession with manifestos began with feminist claims, but many of the most famous are art treaties.

And I am OBSESSED. Or hyperfixated or whatever.

I was looking up artists from different movements on arthistoryproject.com and really impressed with myself at how I could see connections and one artist was already reminding me of another. Even with my limited knowledge!

Artists I liked: – Ferdinand Hodler (Symbolist movement) (late 1800s) – Zinaida Serebriakova (Symbolist movement) (Ukraine) (early 1900s) – Nicholas Roerich (Symbolist movement) (Russia) (early 1900s) – Modigliani (Expressionist movement) (Italy/France) (early 1900s)

Hodler pros: – humorous and expressive face in Night (1890) – color and kind of pointillism on the face in portraits of Giulia Leonardi (1920)

Serebriakova pros: – Self-portrait at the dressing table (1909) the facial expression, activity, the whole thing. AND THE TEXTURE – Ballerinas in the dressing room (1923) – it’s impossible to paint ballerinas without referencing Degas so good job to Degas for that immortality move. But I like how unidealized the movements are and how busty/pin-up-y they look compared to the less detailed more gestural Degas dancers. Look like women and they look strong rather than delicate. The way the dancer is walking away looks totally true to life and not idealized. – Women showing intimacy in women-centric places in ways men cannot – hell yeah

Roerich: – absolutely bonkers colors and scenery – very stealing from other cultures tho…

Love and incomplete admiration, Jordie

Biz Barclay’s video essay on the snapewives is possibly the greatest all-time fandom analysis.

There is an important distinction between consuming and being penetrated.

When I’m on top, I consume. I slide myself onto their cock and envelop it. And then I glide up and down it, swallowing and regurgitating; bending it toward me when I lean back to rest my hands on their knees. Or roughing up the base when I grind my clit against their mons.

When I am pinned beneath them, their weight holds me in place as they penetrate me. My labia are pushed open to make way. It’s not always so heavy; sometimes, their head nudges open my folds and slips inside sweetly.

It is possible to consume from beneath, but it takes a lot of ab work.

Sometimes I am too lazy to consume and prefer my prey to walk into my open maw of its own volition.

I don’t think the pleasure of consuming is far from the fantasy of biting a man’s cock off. (Not any cock – a man’s specifically.)

I would spit, to be clear. I wouldn’t chew up a fleshy, quickly desiccating chopped-off cock.

Do I consume or penetrate with my mouth? As with my cunt, I may desire to tease and control and eat my partner but ultimately I want my face fucked. I want the eroticism of being penetrated in such an intimate and forceful way. You can fuck it kindly and tenderly; just please fuck my mouth and don’t let me do all the work.

(When I was in high school, I was more vulnerable to modern sexual culture and its infiltration and formation by white male agendas. I did NOT want my head touched while giving head. I controlled the pace, depth, and god forbid you push your hips at me because I’m out.)

I’m a brat, after all. I play at consumption but in the end want to be filled instead. Too much work and too much distraction – I want to experience your desire acted on my body and to enjoy it freely without effort. (I mean, I’ll writhe around and stuff – I’m not a pillow princess by any means.)

It interests me that my alien blob erotic horror short story is focused on being consumed, rather than consuming or being penetrated. Do the cock-bearers dream of wholesale consumption and envelopment, too?

Oh dear. The sex robot story involves satisfaction via the ability to penetrate, too. Freud would have a flippin’ field day with that.

Love and let’s finally buy strap-ons, Jordie

Now that I am not so stressed about productivity for its own sake, I am discovering and re-discovering creative pursuits I dropped in childhood.

Productivity, or its dear friend, perfectionism.

I used crocheting two years ago as a deliberate exposure therapy to imperfection. And now, with a much decreased perfectionism hump to get over, I can explore sketching, knitting, zine layout and design, and even writing with less anxiety.

Writing is the stickiest of foes. I consider myself a good writer, so my ahamkara (ego) gets in the way more. I have more at stake when I write.

This blog is a stab at defeating that ego, and is one in a line of many similar attempts. It feels less inhibited by quality concerns, however.

Partially, it’s the anonymity. And greater confidence that my creative process and voice might be a little shitty or even annoying sometimes, but I’m good with that. I’m annoying in my own special way, which makes it ART, MOTHERFUCKERS.

My father said his new year’s resolution was to try to get better at sketching and drawing. I have a vague childhood memory of his sketchbooks lying around. But I haven’t seen him try in ages.

It inspired me! I went to my artist friend’s house and she gave me a massive posterboard and graphite pencil and a website to look at for reference.

I did okay! More importantly, it waas deeply absorbing and enjoyable. I love human bodies and I spent a good hour or two yesterday examining a wide variety of bodies very, very closely.

I know that there are established processes to learning to figure draw. However. I am kind of enamored with my own errors. I draw legs too big. But that can be my style!

My partner and I had sex yesterday morning that made me want to create an animation of it. I wrote some notes down, then thought, I should probably learn how to sketch a bit. And that’s when I went to my friend’s house.

At Michael’s late last night, I got a sketchbook and pencils of my own and came home and promptly ignored my partner for another hour or two of drawing.

Today, I need to do some teacher training work and I am avoiding it thus far by setting up my bullet journal for January. My reflection on December was very positive and self-loving. I’m proud of that progress.

It’s what’s letting me learn new things again.

I crochet, but I also got knitting needles at Michael’s. We watched TV and I tried to get past casting on and utterly lost the thread (literally).

How do you keep tension with two needles jabbing everywhere!?

This afternoon, I am going back to artist friend’s house. She is bartering her knitting wisdom for my bullet journal wisdom.

Exchanging physical skills and goods feels magical when my writing is online, and so much of my teacher preparation and training is also so intangible.

Love and barter with your local witch, Jordie

Let’s take this seriously for a moment. What are my sex goals?

Goals sounds cheap and YouTube-y; sex aspirations and dreams is more accurate.

• Be the center of a gangbang. Ideally, blindfolded and bound… maybe with noise cancelling also
• Do a humiliation scene focused on deep throat training
• Consensual non-consent kidnapping scene where I’m held in a cabin for a weekend or more and constantly stimulated or in scene in some way
• Use a tens unit as part of a forced orgasm scene
• Suspension rope scene
• Free use weekend with a large group where I’m just constantly being grabbed and used
• Waterboarding scene
• Humiliation scene where I am bound and exposed in front of a large group and fucked/called a slut/called out for liking the rough treatment and being a slut… required to affirm my sluttiness/beg for more/etc. with audience interaction in parts. Definitely with impact included
• Top an orgasm torture scene (post-orgasm torture?)
• Wax scene w/ many femme tops

Just some things on my wishlist…

Love and torture, Jordie

La premiere chose, c’est que je peux comprendre presque tout le film!

La deuxieme, c’est que, au fin, j’ai pleure plus que jamais.

I seriously was SOBBING and my partner was just holding me gently. It went on for half an hour.

I was still hopeful at the end that Heloise would walk into the studio and Marianne’s face would light up…

But instead the movie ends with a held shot on Heloise’s face as she takes her small pleasure and compensation from the beauty of an orchestra.

Chaque moment ete shot in the most careful way. Voici “le regard feminin” vraiment – pas un mec sur TikTok avec des yeux “sanpaku.”

J’ai essaie d’expliquer l’idee du regard feminin a mes parents il y a quelque jours. I said that part of it was not breaking the subject up into isolated body parts, and rather viewing the characters as wholes. Seeing more than a collection of limbs and parted lips. Portrait d’une jeune fille en feu does that to an (highly effective) extreme.

We don’t even see la figure de Heloise until over half an hour into the film and when we do, it is through Marianne’s covert glances. When Marianne’s gaze (and the camera’s) lingers on Heloise’s hands, it is with purpose to know them and memorize them so she can paint them. Illicitly! By trying to capture her features without her knowing, Marianne puts on the part of the male gaze and reduces Heloise to a flat and lifeless fiancee.

When Marianne must leave, Heloise calls out to her, “Tournes-toi,” and, as instructed, Marianne looks back. Heloise takes on the role of Eurydices as imagined earlier in the film and takes agency, asking Marianne to choose the memory of her rather than the hope of bringing her back into Marianne’s world with her.

Marianne obliges, but the view we have of Heloise in her ethereal gown is too short to really linger over. The door slams shut, and their relationship ends.

The epilogue shows that the relationship isn’t over in either of their minds. Through paintings, they leave messages memorializing their love. But it is still so fucking tragic and had me totally fucked up over that ending for ages.

Still low key mad at my partner for making me watch such a good movie.

Love and deep sorrow, Jordie

I recently turned 28 and YouTube started recommending people’s “30 before 30” bucket list vlogs.

I don’t have a bucket list and to my knowledge have never written one. It could never be long enough and never encompass all that I may one day want to do.

My needs and desires are ever-shifting, which I think is more true for everyone than they recognize. But that’s also my bias.

I never would have thought I’d be avidly researching methods for teaching factoring, but here I am. And it actually excites me! Wild.

My partner is visiting and he uses “wild” often. I find it very endearing. He gets excited by outrage.

He is the partner of mine my mother has most liked, and the one who is kinky and dominant and she “wouldn’t want to be friends with.” Sigh. Mother, mother.

(In this cafe right now, I’m wearing klnock-off blundstones and feeling verycool and verylame for doing so. There are these two boys wearing matching light brown sets and another boy wearing them who just did the bro-y-est hug with a friend wearing a puffer vest and white Adidas. No socks tho. I think they’re gay. I always hope everyone is gay.)

This afternoon I’m trading my friend for a new partner and we’re going over our yes/no/maybe lists. I probably should re-write mine because last I did it, it was specific to my other partner. We have an ownership dynamic and have been together over two years, so it’s a little different.

I’ll move a lot of things to the maybe list until new partner and I are more comfy and I know what he’s like in-scene.

Love and apparently my goals are sex goals, Jordie