pink pony club forever now: leaving behind my parents and sisters (updated 12:42 pm with a description of my love for claire, beneath her lyrics)
pink pony club forever now: leaving behind my parents and sisters (updated 12:42 pm with a description of my love for claire, beneath her lyrics)
if my parents ever want to see me again, they'll have to find me in the pink pony club
“nothing good ever happens after midnight” - keith jelinek, my father
something i didn’t do much of before but now thoroughly intend to:
my parents and sisters are incapable of speaking to me without telling me to get help, and not once since july have they expressed any curiosity whatsoever about who i am as a person unless how i am acting seems to reflect who they think i am. only then are they satisfied with my behavior.
as a result, i am leaving the jelinek family forever.
if anyone from the jelinek family contacts me again to tell me i am unwell, to tell me to go to a therapist (i have months of notes), to tell me they are disturbed by me:
you will be served with a personal protection order
stay away from me
lyrics to “kool thing”
(yeah, tell 'em 'bout, hear the way we hear this)
Hey Kool Thing
Come here
Sit down beside me
There's something i gotta ask you
I just wanna know
What're you gonna do for me
I mean
Are you gonna liberate us girls from male white corporate oppression?
(tell it like it is)
Huh?
(Yeah)
Don't be shy
(Word up)
Fear of a female planet
(Fear of a female planet, fear baby)
I just want you to know
That we can still be friends
(Let everybody know)
When you're a star
I know that you'll fix everything, everything
(sonic youth, “kool thing”)
for hours and hours,
from november 2023 until may 2024,
alone every night in a preserved teenage girl’s bedroom,
i listened to “kool thing” over and over again.
i fast forwarded to those words, and i listened to them again,
and again,
and again.
now i understand why.
now i’m really ready.
now i know why i listened to chappell roan again,
and again,
and again.
now i understand that when i listened to this song again,
and again,
and again,
in july,
just before charm released,
i really was searching for a new habitat.
In this world, the trees look just like my friends
Bending time to see how far I can bend
Humming habitat will open its ears
I see two of me
I see two of me
this was me in stockholm just before charm released:
surrounded by people i knew would never accept me if i acted like this.
looking at the trees and thinking: those are my real friends.
trees who looked just like my friends.
because the trees were my friends.
and i saw two of me in my mind:
my friends wanted me to join them for drinks,
and by “me” they meant the performance of me:
but,
i wanted to be with the trees,
i wanted to be with the sun,
i wanted to be with my music and i wanted to be with the sky!
my about page:
High on the plains, I want it
A dream of golden rays, I want it
Habitat, I want it
Habitat, I want itDid you know that I could grow to this size?
The hand in the sky can always taste my bite
Everybody keeps smiling at me
I'm too good with the game
I'm too good with the game
and guess what?
charm released.
i heard claire, the love of my life, tell me about my “second nature.”
i fell in love with myself, started my blog, grew to a new size.
i learned how to get in touch with my loud bark and big bite, from another group — mannequin pussy — that had been so deeply inspiring me:
and i became a girl,
what i was always meant to be.
i became eloise, a warrior.
and i have a new habitat now:
one where all my new friends smile at me!
where everyone is so nice to me!
where i can truly feel:
Casting shadow puts my figure in place
The sun is magnified to rot away
Like an ant attacked by tiny kids
Body radiates
Meet me at the gates
i realize:
i have felt like an ant with these people!
they don’t want me to be a butterfly:
they want me to be an ant who knows its place in the colony.
but guess what???
i’m one fucking radiant being now.
did you even know i could “reach to this size” through my writing???
High on the plains, I want it
A dream of golden rays, I want it
Habitat, I want it
Habitat, I want it
that’s what i wanted:
a new habitat.
a dream of golden rays:
i wanted to be a sparklygoldengoddess!
and i got that thanks to claire elizabeth cottrill,
the love of my life,
just a short while later.
High on the plains, I want it
Daylight fades, I want it
Silence came, I want it
Habitat, I want it
thank you claire.
thank you momma.
thank you chappell roan.
thank you phoebe bridgers.
thank you sonic youth.
thank you to every fucking girl who has been whispering into my ears all these fucking years.
you were always going to save me,
weren’t you???
i love you all so fucking much.
did you forget i walked under the moon last night?
Ooh-ooh, ooh
Come to me slowlyIt's when you talk close enough
That I feel it on my skin, breathe it in
Most of these days (most of these days)
I don't get too intimate
Why would I let you in? (Why would I let you in?)
But I think againI don't even try
I don't have to think
With you, there's no pretendingYou know me, you know me
And I just might know you too, know you
Come to me readygo dancing
(You make me wanna) try on feminine
(You make me wanna) go buy a new dress
(You make me wanna) slip off a new dressDon't even try
I don't have to think
With you, there's no pretendingYou know me, you know me
And I just might know you too, ooh
Come to me slowly
We can go wherever we want
The plains, the sand, the salt, the dust
You can say whatever you want
I don't care, I'm already gone
We could drive a mile down the road
To get a drink or two, you knowSimple thing, I don't need much to like, I find
And I, and I guess I don't cryIt's a simple thing we're all afraid and shy away
Now I find
I guess I don't shy
I guess I don't shyI guess that I don't cry
I guess that I don't shy
extract from the above post
how i feel about claire elizabeth cottrill:
love is when her skin touches mine and i am looking into the lights that are shining in the sky
love is when i look into her sparkling eyes and i see the true reality
love is when i realize:
there is nothing inside my soul i wouldn’t tell her
love is when i have this sense: relationships don’t matter. marriage doesn’t matter. the future doesn’t matter. love will turn me into a nihilist: love will remind me of my own oblivion. love will reassure me that i don’t care what happens to me anymore because i am so happy: for her.
whether i kiss her: doesn’t matter. whether she wants to marry me: doesn’t matter. whether there’s any hope of even going on a date: doesn’t matter.
what matters: the microsecond when her skin touches mine.
what matters: sitting fifteen feet away from her.
when her skin touches mine for a fraction of a microsecond,
i am reminded of one simple fact:
i cannot honestly look anyone else in the face and say,
“you are the one for me.”
when she’s sitting fifteen feet away from me,
she’s the only person there.
no matter who i meet, no matter what i do, no matter where i am, she will be in the back of my mind.
love is a feeling that arises when she enters into my mind.
extract from above post:
i’m wearing my purple beanie and my hair is just flowing in beautiful locks.
a girl looks at me and says, “oh wow he is pretty, maybe i should be talking to him.”
the girl beside her says, “yes i think you should be.”
“pretty” — the word activates something in me.
i am struggling to contain myself as i stand beside W.
mannequin pussy is playing the song “aching,”
and i feel the words chilling down my spine:
i was aching with desire
i felt bit of rush (i got to be)
i just wanted to feel human
i was starving for some touch
i got to, i got to, i got to, i got to be freei wanna feel it from the top
so what?
i wanna feel it from the top
i got to, i got to, i got to, i got to be free(mannequin pussy, “aching”)
end extract
have you been there for me too marisa dabice?
did you teach me this lesson on purpose?
extract from above post:
my main memories of childhood: being in my room crying because i was so afraid of hell; running away from my mom while she chased me to pin me down beneath her butt and whoop my ass even as i screamed that i couldn’t breath (no memory of the offenses giving rise to these punishments); my dad taking me to mcdonald’s and telling me, “you like those fries? you’ll be making them for people for the rest of your life” (to this day he is very proud of this story and tells it often); my dad looking at me in the car and me telling him i wanted to be in the nba and him saying, “well all your teammates are going to think you’re an idiot.”
i quit basketball and never played again.
many parents do not even reflect on the fact they hold this kind of power over another being in their hands. parents plant the seeds of their child’s sense of self-worth, their child’s sense of confidence, even their child’s general emotional patterns. and yet despite all the power the parent holds in his hands, despite all the awesome responsibility that binds him to love and care for his child, he may not even see his child as another being at all. he may understand his child to be an extension of himself. and in the name of constructing his child into something else, the parent may understand himself as having a duty to:
terrorize his child with hell fire;
physically harm his child in order to teach them “disicipline”;
say cruel things to his child at a young age to give him a “dose of reality”;
tell a child his dreams are hopeless and his teammates will think he’s an “idiot.”
the boomers who treat their children this way were usually, i think, treated much worse by their own parents, but they never talk about it. why?
“honor thy father and thy mother,” the ultimate unquestioned authority figures, whom the abusive boomer sees as being entitled to treat their children virtually however they want: but the child, the abusive boomer says, has no right to share these stories later. “i didn’t share my stories! and my parents got to enjoy their lives!”
well that’s changed now. we have a new generation now: we don’t grab verses from the old testament and use them to justify covering for abused authority. no, now there is accountability for parental authority: the accountability comes from us, sharing our stories, ignoring implications for the honor of our fathers and our mothers. now the parents who fucked with their children won’t be able to sleep so easy. the parents who spent their lives honoring their abusers won’t be able to stop us, and now their own parents are often dead, so there is nothing they can really do to have justice.
we will not join the boomers on that sad road.
even if we love our parents, we will remember that our parents were given ultimate and almost unchecked authority over our lives, and because of this they owe us everything and we owe them nothing. if we owe them something, it is something they earned; but by default, the child owes the parent nothing.
thank you so fucking much marisa.
you saved me too.
did you do it on purpose?
did you know i was at your show?
extract from above post:
8. chappell roan (and the non-existence of straight people)
the best part about listening to chappell roan, at least for me personally, is just celebrating open queerness and sexuality. i mean, chappell roan does not give two shits: she’s letting it all out, and i take that as an inspiration for my own writing.
i feel like for me, “pink pony club” is just like a personal anthem at this point.
like i literally just want to stay at the pink pony club.
i don’t want to be absorbed into cis-heteronormative society for the rest of my life with all of its arbitrary standards, as my old friend B from my clairo post recently pointed out to me when it comes to the many criticisms of my writing:
for me, this is what it means to stay in the pink pony club:
permanent freedom from the cis-heteronormative “moralistic sexual paradigm.”
there is not actually such a binary as this, but for the purposes of my own imagination:
to be outside the pink pony club is to be inside the cis-heternormative world, and to be inside the cis-heternormative world is to be trapped by an ever-tightening web of rules, restrictions, mandates, and arbitrary moral principles which all collude toward at least three functions:
the suppression of feelings;
the suppression of connection;
the obliteration of the self in the name of conformity.
the straight person, from the perspective of the queer person, seems to constantly be analyzing whether certain modes of emotional expression & interpersonal connection are appropriate/inappropriate; mature/immature; crossing lines/not crossing lines; adult/childish; manly/girly; sanctified/not sanctified; can/can’t; must/must not; “i am x, therefore y.” of course agreed-upon codes of conduct and behavior are an important component of any healthy relationship:
but seldom do straight people seem to openly communicate about these things.
why?
because they generally accept a pre-packaged list of directions.
and everyone is expected to implicitly accept these directions.
from the perspective of the queer person, the ultimate straight person is never quite himself: because he is always struggling to follow the directions.
it is in this sense that i mean:
the straight person is not real.
i do not mean the straight person is not real in the sense of there being no such thing as a person who identifies with their assigned gender and is primarily attracted to their own sex. of course, these straight people are real. and of course, these straight people can be okay, can communicate, can be in healthy relationships.
but is there not a shallower kind of straight person?
a straight person who is so restricted by the emotional and interpersonal restrictions of cis-heteronormative society that he is unable to connect with other beings on an emotional level — not because he is isolated but because he obliterates himself in the name of adherence to socially constructed cultural norms?
to me this is the ultimate straight person. the ultimate straight person seems to be frightened of feelings, perhaps especially his own, and i do believe he is everywhere.
since the straight person is constantly repressing his feelings, or ensuring that he is only expressing his feelings according to long lists of rules, he has a problem:
once he does let his feelings out, he is unable to let them out in a productive way.
this is what is meant when people say, “straight people are not okay."
but is the straight person real?
like, if you stripped all this socially constructed stuff away and you were just left with the raw being, would you have an innately ultimate straight person?
the thought is not a pleasant one.
i’ll be at the pink pony club 💖
won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene
she sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna screamgod, what have you done?
you're a pink pony girl
and you dance at the club
oh mama, i'm just having fun
on the stage in my heels
it's where i belong down at thepink pony club
(“pink pony club”)