15 February, 2008

The Artist Is Always Naked

I doubt that phrase was meant to be taken literally, but it wouldn't be all that inaccurate a description for me. I wasn't planning on doing anything special for Valentine's Day, but something worked out anyway. I'll get to that shortly, but first, on a somewhat related topic, I'd like to bring up my underwear again. If nothing else, it must be a good sign that I'm a little bit less anxious about talking about my underwear than I was the first time.

I did my laundry today, having gotten into the habit of doing it on Thursday nights, since my other brother, though away during the week for work (since this is his busy season), comes home for weekends. Anyway, I have three sets of underwear (sets, not pairs), not counting my pleasure pair of silk boxers. Of those three sets, there's only one pair left of my old set, six pairs of the 'usual' set, and I don't know how many of the [relatively] new set since I don't ever wear them, because they're uncomfortable - they come up way too high around the waist. First, to clarify, despite conclusions some people I know may have come to, I've decided that, as long as I'm wearing clothes, I feel more comfortable with a little support, so provided I do laundry regularly, the plan is to wear the underwear I have. Well, that last pair of the old set was getting kind of raggedy (torn in places), and I couldn't help tearing it apart. I tore out the fabric, leaving just the frame of the briefs intact. It's kind of interesting to wear, because you feel the seams, and you almost want to believe you've got underwear on, but then you realize there's actually no layer between you and the air/your pants. It might sound pretty silly, but it's kind of fun to wear. It's almost like having some bondage rope to outline your figure, but you don't have to make any effort to put it on, and it's a cinch to take off.

Okay, well, that might answer a question you might otherwise have had if you end up doing certain things that I'll be talking about later on in this post. Cryptic enough for ya? I've been thinking about getting some new underwear, not just to replace old pairs I have, but because I've been toying with the idea of trying a new style. I've already explained that boxers have little appeal to me. But briefs themselves are pretty lame. I'd want something with a little more style, and something that has a low waist, since that's the direction fashions are going these days, and I've gotten used to it, myself. In other words, I was thinking about maybe trying bikini briefs, and maybe in something other than a bland white. Not like a string bikini brief or anything, but just something that only really covers what needs to be covered. The one thing that bothers me most about traditional brief designs is that overlapping pocket/hole thing in the front. I have never once used it and frankly, it doesn't seem any easier or more convenient than simply flipping down the top, to get your friend out (even when it comes down to unbuckling and unbuttoning - it's still more dependable than fishing for an eel). I mean, even if I was pissing in front of other people, which is something I generally wouldn't volunteer to do, I don't see how it could be so important that I get my snake out without risking exposure of his eggs. What does it even matter? It's not like other people would be concentrating on it (or if they were, they probably wouldn't mind seeing a little more...).

Okay, I apologize, I had no idea this discussion was going to head in this direction. But I don't want to avoid talking about things just because I'm not entirely comfortable talking about them - otherwise, that would reinforce the idea in my head that there are certain things about me that I'm not allowed to talk about, and therefore should be ashamed of. Moving to more interesting things...

I was in an unusual mood tonight, after watching my daily episode of Millenium. There was an odd show on the History Channel (my TV just happened to be on that channel, because of the last show I watched) about pig farming, and when I shut off the DVD, the show was talking about selective genetics, and the methods they use to preserve pig semen. Yeah. TV has a powerful hold, though. I'm sitting in that chair, watching shows that hold my interest, and it feels like there could be nothing better than staying in that chair and watching more TV, even after the show(s) I was interested in have ended. Because it's almost like dreaming - you ignore all your physical barriers, you don't have to exert yourself whatsoever, you just sit, and watch, and be entertained. But it's dangerous, because you end up wasting time watching stuff that does you no good beyond killing time, and the constant commercial breaks wear your brain down, and over time, you enter a zombie-like state that eats away at you and your ability to ever do anything else in life away from the television set.

Sometimes it's hard to hit that power button, but it's like a massive release when I do. At first, I'm disappointed, because the entertainment box has died, but very quickly the release washes over me, and I feel free to exist again. I tried reading some more from the third and last of the self-helpish books I got in December, Anxiety Disorders And Phobias: A Cognitive Perspective, but I was getting easily distracted. At first, I was afraid that, of the three, that book would be an effort because it would have a lot more technical language, and be more about psychological theories than therapy approaches. And it is, but it hasn't been a problem - it's actually very interesting, and I look forward to reading more. But today I was distracted. I spent some time looking up stuff about hikikomori and freeters and shut-ins and parasite singles, online. I want some books that can tell me how to fight avoidance itself, but it doesn't seem to be as common as stuff about fighting anxiety...

Ok, time for the interesting part. After tearing up my underwear, I put on the three blacklights in my room, on a whim. I also picked up the neon green plastic toy squirtgun sitting on the table, since it was glowing. Looking in the mirror, I got the idea to maybe try and take some pictures. You know, test out that spiffy new tripod I recently got! Well, that little tripod was a massive help. Considering I literally spent less than ten bucks on it, I wish I had gotten one years ago. Finally, I can set up shots in all kinds of places, without having to be there holding the camera! Of course, that doesn't eliminate the trouble of doing self-portrait photography. There's a lot of work in thinking of a pose, hitting the button, then rushing into place before the shutter snaps. And with the camera I have, I have to reset the options for every shot (in this case - no flash, self-timer, go!). Now, there may be a way for it to remember and repeat the settings automatically, but I looked through the menus and I couldn't find it. So it was still a challenge, but a much better success with that tripod, and I think I got some decent, interesting shots. Plus, it was fun, as always. I put my favorites up on my Flickr account, so I guess this is sort of my Valentine's Day gift to the [online] world. Again, if you want to see them, you'll have to login on a registered account, and turn the content filter off. Hope your V-Day wasn't too heartbreaking!


  1. I forgot to mention, I got around the trouble of rechargeable batteries by simply using a couple alkalines I had lying around. I got in a good forty-some pictures before the batteries started dying. If I had had to rely on my rechargeables, I wouldn't have been able to take any pictures last night. Simple as that.

  2. I feel the exact same way about that dreadful flap thing. The only potential use I can think of is if you have sex with your clothes on, and if you're doing that you might as well not wear underwear.

    I didn't even know yesterday was Valentine's. Which is fitting because as the days go by I've started to think that not interacting with people at all might be a good way to go...

    As for naked artists... I can dig that, I recorded my Neil Young tribute album (Songs From The Ditch) in the nude one day when there was a snow day last year. I've always felt that that was the point behind John Lennon's nudity album cover and the song Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey. The Monkey of course is his genitals, and the line in the song goes "if your inside is out then your outside is in" which I feel means the artist is already exposing his deepest self so why not expose your superficial (physical) self as well?