Alyssa Nunnink
(excerpt 1)
Learned helplessness, external locus of control, attention-seeking at all costs, lack of regard for the vibe of the space, desperation to maintain a curated image of oneself even when absurd in context, desperation to confine others to one’s curated images of them usually accompanied by anger when these others fail to conform hierarchicalisation of one’s companions according to a single normative scheme, whining, one-upping, an inability to praise others’ good work or see others be praised, pathological jealousy and covetousness, shirking one’s duties, constant pessimism, seeking pity for choices one has made oneself, picky eating.
/
(excerpt 2)
No, you imagine yourself seeking that, you crave an appetite, you desire to desire, shielded from the act of wanting by a thin screen of glass but frothing over your own hypothesised voracity with a curious mix of onanism and voyeurism like a man watching, in solitude, a video of himself having sex. You loudly claim envy, avarice, lust, infatuation, ambition, extroversion, egomania, emptiness, sleeplessness, risk-taking, perfectionism, truancy, pure biological hunger. I count your playing cards and attempt to diagnose you, but you will not sleep and you will not listen. I cannot stop hanging off your back.
/
(excerpt 3)
Borges’ stories function as pitches for novels, if not pitches for universes. Alright,then, I will make that same excuse for my laziness. Let me pitch a list of tools for self-feminisation that begins at a retinol cleanser and middles at rhinoplasty and ends at, I don’t know, something much more drastic and radical.
/
(excerpt 4)
It’s also funny that every single individual has an anorexic urge, irrespective of whether it manifests in eating; the engorgement and hypertrophy and eventual tyranny of one’s subjectivity until its perversion is so great that it collapses into objectivity, isn’t that the highest mode of being, isn’t that why saints are saints?