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buttercup — what i shit on when shitting on hip-hop



what i shit on when shitting on hip-hop:
a response to
MEGAN BOYLE, JACK SERGE, AND THE END OF ALT LIT
by caden lovelace
and
Can Someone Do Something Exciting So I Can Care About The Internet Again?
by gabby gabby

by buttercup



'gucci mane' by mallory whitten


repetition of themes, patterns, recursion. themes within themes. motif, rhythm, cadence, chant, mantra, 'hook'. repetitive one-syllable exclamation. 'rose'

feel aware there are people who almost indiscriminately like hip-hop. feel aware there are people who have extremely complex, formatted opinions on reasons they like and/or dislike specific artists/genres/'schools' of hip-hop, people who spend a lot of time listening to and discerning these opinions. i feel aware people shittalk things as a way of expressing dissatisfaction. i enjoy shittalking hip-hop

once i kissed a girl and her lip started bleeding. i thought something like, 'well, i guess this is it,' and kept kissing her. 'i guess i'm just going to kind of have this thing where i kind of partly am this person, via plasma exchange, to some degree, until my cells regenerate completely'

i am writing a novel about a different girl who is very very important to me. or, there is a prominent, recurring character with her name. i'm unsure. don't think i have any control over anyone's ability to experience 'interest'. my brain is a problem-solving apparatus that adjusts my behavior, fluidly to better acclimate me to environments i'm in. if i seem 'disinteresting' people won't want to be around me, i've deduced. so i do things i think people will like, and avoid doing things people dislike

i don't feel interested by things, just stimulated by engagement. everything seems fluid and confusing to me. i'm awake, then not awake, then awake again. feel seamlessly capable of remembering specific details about middle school/junior high/grades seven and eight. like, i can just, without closing my eyes, be back in that building

[something about childhood trauma]

want the audience to be aware i didn't want to write this essay. that i wanted there to be something on this page today due to a set of goals, and that those goals dictated i write this essay. but i felt active aversion to the process of typing words, discerning conceptual relationships. gucci mane. kathryn 'kitty' beckwith. cat motif. pseudonym and persona and veiling interaction by hiding known/government-archived data to enhance feelings of 'mystery' in an audience. not understanding intent, and just 'doing what seems most fun', etc

there is a website called hipster runoff dot com. the main facilitator of which is a person whose face is not publicly/easily accessible. he uses the name 'carles'. i've interacted a lot with carles in the past four years. on his website, which is most-prominently based around music reviews, he publicly endorses an author named tao lin. despite interacting with both carles and tao a similar amount in the past four years, i feel aware tao is aware of me, but that carles doesn't seem to be. like, when people mention 'buttercup' to him, he consistently says 'who's that?'

teenagers. odd future wolf gang. snoop dogg (now 'lion'). 'rebranding'. dog motif. resurgence of cat motif. [something about younger people 'coming to prominence' while older people who are 'established' continue to produce output]

thought 'all of this seems connected and bad'

lena dunham. sarah jessica parker. writers acting in TV shows portraying writers. thought 'this all seems inexorably related and bad' then '...and shitty'. feel aversion to recounting thoughts as i have them.

this initiated as a 'piece of writing' that was 'supposed to' have 'intent'

kool a.d. a.k.a. victor vasquez

marshall mallicoat a.k.a. lil melanin

ellen kennedy a.k.a. 'dakota fanning' in richard yates

tao lin a.k.a. tao lin


'rap lyrics' by tao lin


'i want to die' is something i say/think a lot. but i feel indifferent toward death currently/mostly. neither want nor do not want death to happen to me. seems irrelevant (bc it will happen to me regardless of my desired… something…).

imagined achieving 'immortality' then thought 'no'. imagined my brain infused with nanotechnologic things that simulated neurons. that eventually replaced my brain in a manner that seemed fluid. like 'the self' was never destroyed, just 'replaced'. a team of excavation droids put the brain that's made from nanobots inside a synthetic diamond casing at the center of a small moon. a group of satellite/ring structures around the moon form a 'warp bubble' and the moon accelerates faster than the speed of light. 'ta-da', immortal

that's how that novel i mentioned earlier ends. that happens to the main character, named stephen. the end. just gave away the ending of my science fiction novel

jay-z ardently avoiding talking about his personal life despite public awareness of selected events in his personal life

kanye west saying 'george bush doesn't care about black people' on a public broadcast network in the middle of the day

'jay-z' vs 'kanye west'

think as a kid life just seemed 'exciting' all the time. like even when bored it was because the inside of my brain felt 'exciting' even though the amount of stimulation seemed low. different chemicals maybe. can't discern if i ever learned what the adjective 'exciting' denotes. 'that's exciting!' unsure

[something about people wanting to own other people]




various rap verses written/performed by buttercup (2006-2013)


'you're mine', 'be mine', 'my partner', 'my spouse'. 'my cat', 'my dog'. thought 'ownership was a bad idea'. seems rhetorical. i dislike rhetoric. '[internal monologue]'. i've been alienating the dwarf wolves that live in the house i live in. a girl i like has been mentioning her cats a lot more, recently. she used to talk about her brother's dog a lot, but now she talks about the four cats. the cats that live in the house she lives in. no ownership, thanks. feel aversion to 'english', the language, but don't want to make up a new language

hip-hop seems to constantly change language to allow easier/simpler structural forms of cadence, rhythm, rhyme in a way people seem entertained by. 'alt lit' seems to constantly change language to allow easier/simpler structural forms of understanding, perception, paradox in a way people seem entertained by. briefly wanted to end this 'essay' with that last sentence. but... i don't know... don't want to write more...

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5 comments :

  1. honestly don't know what the hell you are talking about to be quite honest

    ReplyDelete
  2. pretty sure if i laid down on the ground on my stomach and you stood on my chest it would be extremely painful for me

    ReplyDelete