Ode To Black Squares
24 April 2025
In the year 2023
I visited my now-wife in New Zealand. Before this, I had not spent nearly so much time existing in social settings since high school, if even. I felt hugely uplifted when given the opportunity to spend time with others, yet embittered for how I was treated, being the peculiar thing that I am. Several months after my return, September 5th, 2023, I wrote a small collection of prose about my experiences as a schizo, to honor that artist who has inspired me the most, Devi McCallion. This work is going to be published as a spoken word piece within my upcoming album, Still Lurking Creepy. But, before that comes out, I'd now like to share some considerations on what I wrote with you. I will now present it to you, and following that will be some thoughts on it.
Grey cement looking like a window
Looking at the past, Jesus keep my eyes low
MONEY MAKES YOU STUPID, Black Dresses (2022)
Ode to Black Squares
she spoke of hell and pain and though not as much of heaven or comfort, she spoke of the beauty of the world and of prayer and hope.
there are descriptions of procedures, some more mechanical or body oriented and some more abstract or thought oriented. most of these procedures are both, some are neither. these are procedures to deal with the general angst of living.
the descriptions of the abstract are not divergent from the descriptions of the natural. what is a description of the natural if not a description of one's perception of the natural? what is a description of the natural when one's perception does not match with the perception of his peers? if he's lucky, he's deemed a liar. however, one cannot know he's lucky to have been dismissed when he doesn't know that recognition would result in his torture.
nowhere is safe when your enemy has made himself comfortable in your home. you may leave your home, but what will you do when it's time to sleep?
sharing warmth and comfort is a commonality of those living things. internal structures being constructed and used to facilitate a connection with deeply interlinked massive external systems seems to be a commonality of humans. what is being a human? the perception of an individual's infernal malfunction may be a death sentence for the individual, often when the infernal malfunction would not have been so grim, left unseen. what if one wishes to be perceived differently than he has been? will the attempt override the always ever-ready eyes and ears that he finds himself surrounded by?
there exists something within you
2023-09-05
binnie mf
This piece always feels like it has a small few poignant somethings to get across to me. As the author, I can tell you that I am ashamed of the pieces of christianity which I have had trouble removing from myself. Furthermore, I can tell you that I initially read Deleuze & Guattari petty reasons of social capital, though I now read them for poetry. It is my hope that were this writing on its own, that it would still stand proudly as that of a schizoanalyst's... Let us waste no more time, and enter the analysis
Relating to her Through text
"she spoke of hell and pain and though not as much of heaven or comfort, she spoke of the beauty of the world and of prayer and hope."
I am proud of such a way to start, immediately referencing some unknown she ... the invocations of the afterlife bring doubt that this is about a real person. However, she is very real: Devi McCallion, member of the now-defunct noise pop duo Black Dresses, occultist & singer-songwriter extraordinaire, and the first person to read creepypastas on youtube.
My work proceeds to touch on that she's written of procedures, for example as within the song A.T. Field wherein she describes a mental exercise of unbecoming. That in mind, I believe if you were to listen to any of her releases front-to-back, you would find some descriptions of procedures as per my description. In 2017 I, young schizo, was completely caught off guard when I first experienced delusions & hallucinations. I was blindsided when my dearest friend of many years cut off contact because of how irrationally I was behaving. As a person, I feel most comfortable with a crowd--when I was still spending time with my friend I felt lonely, without her I felt an isolation and emptiness that cannot be conveyed.
McCallion's works felt like a light in the dark, since if not explicitly touching on those topics of delusion & hallucination, her lyrics usually share some adjacency with them. In 2018, lonely as I was, I began to pour over her works searching for company, searching for relevant experience, searching for wisdom. I am somewhat troubled by this attempt of self-preparation through song-study. I've often felt deeply perverse for my attachments to those lyrics she wrote and performed.
Despite this feeling, I often find myself wondering if it was her intent as an artist to have a motif of schizo-educational, guiding lyrics. Take for example, this instructional excerpt from Every Body Breaks Down:
please dont really drink the water
keep your head down theres tonnes of cops out
A conspiratorial line--don't trust the water--that is nonsense, the water is fine--but there is a true danger in that often there are truly tons of cops out. I should also like to share this excerpt that comes in the form of a warning off of California Wine:
"as a kid i lived thru project monarch"
"this butterfly tattoo sure means a lot"
...
"they’ll always wanna turn you out and fuck you up"
"try to brainwash you and do weird stuff"
That's intense!! I am of the understanding that when McCallion wrote she "lived through project monarch" she was referring to being a kid and reading about Cathy O'Brien's experiences, wherein O'Brien was victim of satanic ritual abuse, and child sexual abuse, ... following up the mention of a conspiracy with allusion to her butterfly tattoo, we are left wondering what McCallion's experience has been...
For some reason I find some strange relationality with my own experience as a child was adjacent to pedophiles on ROBLOX & growing up in special education. I was pulled aside, I was clearly different.
These difficult-to-believe claims (don't drink the water, it's poison, the government is secretly abusing children) are some of what was on my mind when I wrote my Ode;
"what is a description of the natural when one's perception does not match with the perception of his peers? if he's lucky, he's deemed a liar."
It can be extremely dangerous to reveal that your beliefs don't line up with those of the common man so, keep your head down. Our enemies are armed. To me, my work feels dreadfully bleak, while not feeling as though it's being untrue or over the top. It feels as though it is ashamed of being bleak, as well. When I wrote,
"what if one wishes to be perceived differently than he has been?"
I was speaking abstractly, but in my own life, I knew the answer to this experience. Deeply painful was it that, I was not believed by my parents when I came out of the closet as transgender, as it came in tandem with my psychosis (perhaps it was psychosis that allowed me to be open about how I wanted to be seen?). If you find your company does not believe you, you may find yourself in hell during a difficult period of change. You may find little reason for continuing. I did not have the option to stop, but I'm sure I would've liked to.
At the time, my dad seemed at times to be asking for me to go back into the closet, for us to return to normal. Distinctly, I recall him telling me about how the transgender suicide rate is absurdly higher than average... I don't remember how I responded, but I remember lamenting not being prepared for being told such a thing--Thinking about how I would've liked to have told him that the rate returns to average when there's family support. How I would've liked to have told him that I didn't have a choice in the matter.
Maybe I was mistaken!--Psychotic as I was, my dad as crass as he is, maybe he was fine with such a revelation, but sharing his understandings in a peculiar way. I doubt it. He's told that he doesn't like the thought of medical transition. I'm getting away from myself...
On one occasion upon which I was hospitalized & sharing the work of Black Squares Media (there have been quite a few of these occasions), I played a particular song... There's a particular line at which my friend-for-the-visit cried upon...
That girl who couldn't do anything
Improved a little on her cooking
...for those who suffer that which comes with disability such as us, the small victories can be massive. Personally, I'm quite happy with what journaling has done for my life.
Thank you for reading.