autopeasant

[autopeasant]

(You wake up, and persevere.)

Wake up, and persevere.

[autopeasant]

After a while, you get used it.

Early on, I reached the symbol of the post office. My procrastination had always been right on schedule, finishing papers and grant applications at the last minute, and having to travel to the city to drop them off either at school or the main post office just before the deadlines. But that autumn, a bleak depression was setting in. First there was the exaggerated lethargy in August, a few weeks before I finished the year-long daily photo project. Then there was the brain meltdown, the complete burnout, and the depression. That particular visit to the post office was different in that respect.

[autopeasant]

https://www.flickr.com/gp/jillwrites/9tCCw15eUX

What Self-Reflection looks like. (2007. New processing: 2026.)

What self-reflection looks like. Re-processing this with mobile technology I could only have wished for in 2007. I remember—even a few iota of sharpness was a derring-do that should’ve been don’t. But besides I-love-the-art-of-photo-processing, there’s how much it’s a part of my self-reflection process psychoanalytically—besides just literally reflections of myself in various mirrors, haha. There was that literal a-ha in learning the schiz brain’s way-of-being. #Theory #TheoryGirlPhotography

[autopeasant]

I started this already on a domain I acquired earlier—Autoethnography—so, some of these sentences might be a repeat. But: they’re themes that I return to.

[autopeasant]

I gave up fiction, and eventually carefully re-invented it. I am independent of. It’s original Schiz Research Praxis.

[autopeasant]

I went to a second therapist while I was living in Chicago—ugh, another therapist. I’d gotten very practiced at self-analysis by then—it had been 4 1/2 years—

In context, it seemed what I should address was—I’ll again phrase it somewhat bluntly & simplified in terms—“God, Mom, and money”.

[autopeasant]

New #damnhellbathroom art. Self-Portrait in Whole Foods.

[autopeasant]

Eighteen years of Fluxus, Dadaism, and Contemporary Art in my traveling vehicle studio. Tristan Tzara fans be warned, I’m the bee’s knees of Art Driving. Also a docently-prepared Walker of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA)—it would take me a while decide which museum to love first.

And now I have to talk about Contemporary Philosophy of Fiction—the concept of fiction to the human psyche is a lot more complex than it first seems to be to the naked eye… er… brain.

[autopeasant]

Autopeasant: is an autodidact. Auerbach or Aultman right now? Mostly: produce, clean eating, nutritional didact.

[autopeasant]

There is a certain Su that has been giving me a hard time. She won’t A—it’s a verb to me.

I was just about to go back to sleep when it seemed imperative to write. It’s my clean money GIF. Musical Theater is my thing now—it wasn’t before. I had to learn.

I will call her Annie Sut.

[autopeasant]

Borderless. I am the only woman.

This is Genre.

[autopeasant]

Welcome to this Autotheory endeavor. I’m Autopeasant: it’s a play on words. I mean: it’s Autotheory written by —comparably speaking in worldwide history—a peasant—I mean this tongue-in-cheek—but also: a peasant in an auto. A lot of my creative process centers on my vehicle.

I’m currently parked in a comparably unbusy roundabout—at the end of a bus route (the S76 in Staten Island in New York City). A United States Postal Service vehicle has just made the round, and an aforementioned S76 has also passed on its route while I’ve been typing this.

[autopeasant]

[autopeasant]

There’s a real point of view in thinking autopeasant is the thing to call this.