I go to a music show. (I don't like the word concert when it's not a stadium, I don't know why.) It's JPEGMAFIA. The mosh pit is huge. I'm on the outer boundary of it. I think about how I want to be in there, how I have a slipped disk in my spine, about how some of these kids probably aren't super respectful about it (before arriving, I read a reddit comment of someone who was pushed to the ground and stepped on at a JPEGMAFIA show). I think about how actually I've never been in a moshpit, about how I missed something and why I missed it. I was never close to anyone who would lead me to being near a moshpit when it mattered, I was too broke in college to go to shows, but no not really, it was more I was friendless in an ivy league school that did not reveal to me a single human I resonated with (having come from Humboldt County, CA, a theater arts high school full of weirdos and people who hug each other every day). I found some my last year there (and they are still my friends now, but we didn't hug each other every day). These friends I found would never be in a mosh pit or know where to find one in NYC (and I suppose the indie music of the time had not so fully reappropriated garage punk and metal into forms that attracted us, and instead of spending money on finding shows we spent it on weed and watching anime or listening to music while watching fractal art on Electric Sheep, a sort of moshing in our heads perhaps, if a reader will forgive how corny that sounds). I can't go in the mosh pit right now, but I also can't stop moving -- more contained movements, I always plant my feet, it's all in the head and neck (thank God that slipped disk healed), in the shoulders, in the knees, in complex rhythms that match the minor rises and falls of drums and melody. I guess I don't want to be moshing, I want to be dancing, and I also want to be performing because that's what I've always wanted but never pursued, so now I'm sort of dancing and sort of not and also, did I forget to mention, this whole time I'm quite preoccupied with every single human within 5 feet of me. What are they doing, how are they moving, and also how do they perceive me? Even if I tell myself a thousand times that they don't perceive me, I am constantly aware of it and it never stops (and I won't even recite here the details of my body and appearance and movements that I feel constantly self-conscious of).

Was chatting with someone about the concept of "after dark" accounts on Twitter, and how I'd had two accounts that I used for different things. It did get me thinking a lot about what sorts of things I want to share here, whether or not I should divide my interests up into a more "safe/tame" space and a more "weird/extreme" space. It also produces a lot of thoughts about masking, about how authentic one can feel about themselves, whether it's better to be able to share things with a wider community of people, or just be content with one's close and personal circle of friends...

Hard to put them all down here at the moment, especially because I'd just written a lengthy explanation about past experiences with said friend, but it is certainly weighing on my mind this morning... particularly as I want to start sharing more of various things here. XD

I'm cutting my latest video and I kind of hate how I decided to talk, and I realized maybe I could talk much more "casually" and much more "me," but it took a whole day to shoot so I'm just trying to just accept my choices on the day. Related to that, sometimes I get really insecure about how much I think about what other people will think about something I write, how my words will be received and what the worst case is for a poor read of what I'm saying or a criticism of how I'm presenting information. I've been heinously misread in the most casual conversations, I've seen constant hostility and poor faith engagements on every platform that exists online, it causes me constant anxiety at worst and moments of "why???" at best.