there’s a bunch of ways to interpret writing style. in true ari fashion, let’s be Extra as hell, and address the bunch.
ari is a performative person—as helplessly as she isn’t, because she is conscious of the choices that feed that energy, and it almost hardly matters that those choices are, more than anything else, a succumbing to her every whimsical urge. why should something as personal as her penmanship be an exception? especially when she etches into whatever her fans hold out to her: paper, plastic, fabric, or flesh. she signs with gravitas, peppering hearts into the looping scrawl. her handwriting looks like:
lilac prose. all lowercase. breaking the rules of grammar with gall & gravitas, and no apologies. thematically macabre, sensationally alive. sensationalising, romanticising, and rarely committed to being sensical.
she is a lyricist, intimately. yet most of her band nocte vita’s discography is not composed of her own words. instead, she chooses to use words the band comes up with together, or a third-party songwriter’s work, and even twists on covers of iconic rock ballads. i did say she’s a lyricist intimately, didn’t i? and some things are interwoven in too intimate a relationship to be anything but the truth. and ari knows little for sure, but does believe in this: you are always better off with a really good lie. her songs are her own; those hasty, drunkenly smudged scrawls of haphazard pen’s ink & pencil’s lead, composed in a code no one but her could decipher without her help. every word aching, hot as blood. twice as alive. a wounded animal’s howl in the dead of night.
✪ — FAVOURITE FOOD/EATING HABITS.
there is little to her that is habitual. her favourites are the same things she is often fickle to, reaching for them when she feels like it, and tossing them aside when she feels like it. still, there are honourable mentions: cherry-flavoured lollipops, root-beer floats, dark chocolate, tequila sunrises, pomegranate seeds in a bowl full of yoghurt, extremely rare steak.
what’s there to be nervous about? ari asks. but it is, as you must already suspect, what you might call an untruth. she believes it, so it can’t be a lie, not certainly. i would call it a nervous energy, regardless, that feeds an aura she exudes of someone who moves in superspeed-motion; chronically restless, incapable of stillness. brimming with toomuchtoomuchtoomuch, whirling like a glossy tornado, unabashedly sweeping you up in her tide of ruination. can destruction be a habit? corruption? to taint and shape whatever you encounter to your momentary whims? if you can call them habits, then those are what ari’s nervous energy manifests as.
