Ten Thousand Siblings

  • Reading time:5 mins read

The thing about Twitter is that it’s provided so many shitty people an opportunity to tell on themselves and clarify how it is that they think, that I feel like I understand a hell of a lot more now about the ways that shitty people think and behave, and what is and is not my fault.

Recovering from trauma, all of the stuff I’ve internalized over the course of my life—to see the way that garbage is employed, where it comes from, how particular it is to a particular kind of a person, it really does a number on this part of me made to feel alone. Being able to link arms with a bunch of other people who see the fuckery for what it is, and to point at it, and to collectively recognize what it indicates about that person rather than about reality? That’s something I’ve never really had before.

Regarding “bean dad,” (if you don’t know the reference, consider yourself lucky) honestly the kid’s predicament is how doing almost anything has felt my entire life—especially that incredulity and dismissal in response to her plea. Being neurodivergent in a neurotypical world means constant low-key ableism and frankly torture for the littlest, dumbest fucking things. Even when I manage to diagnose the problem and to what extent it’s affecting me, and think to ask, historically the best response I’ve tended to get out of people is, “Oh, yeah, I guess I can see how that might be hard to figure out.” Then they turn their back and continue as if I had never said anything. In the event I do manage to work out a solution, it’s not celebrated; either they conclude I was feigning helplessness the whole time or they’re like, “See, you did it eventually. Isn’t that better than asking?”

End result: I am terrified and ashamed of ever asking for help, no matter how dire. Which is not a good state to live in, especially when things are in fact pretty dire. I’ve been told my whole life that I basically deserve what I get if I’m unable to do everything on my own.

Regarding the other main character of the day, the “tall mommy” (again, good job at avoiding the topic)—well, I dunno. I’m something like 6’5″, so hard to know what to say here. I wish I was about six inches shorter most of the time—not because of attractiveness to others, since who gives a fuck. Just because, you know, head injuries. balance. Individual dysphoria.

(Also to the woman’s point, dudes not be caring. If that is somehow a concern.)

I say “something like 6’5″” as I haven’t been measured in a while and I know I’m shorter than I used to be. My perspective when walking around is different. I’m not looking so directly down on the top of the fridge. I can see in the bathroom mirror without hunching over now. And, this happens to some extent, right. The bones don’t change that much, but connective tissue does. My feet are 2-3 sizes smaller now, so it figures my spine would be having its own adventure.

Height is the one part of my self-image I’m never gonna be able to address, So I just have to come to terms with it. It’s always bothered me. Until I was maybe seventeen, I was shorter than everyone my age—then suddenly I was ducking tree branches everywhere. It sucks. Also aesthetically I don’t like the length of my torso, though the other recent changes—the tits, the hips, the change of the shape of my pelvis—help to break things up a little bit so it’s less of this endless antarctic landing field. Again it sucks that nothing ever fits me, but it’s better in women’s sizing.

This lady clearly has a bunch of problems, and judging by her timeline history is used to projecting on any number of groups (races, ethnicities) according to factors they can’t control. If she’s got her own dysphoria and is weaponizing it like an English young adult writer to hurt others, well, Sucks to be in her head, I guess. I hope she gets help eventually.

I’m not saying it’s good that I’ve learned to fold all of my problems over onto myself, but, like. I’m dealing with my own shit; I don’t want hurt anyone else, I don’t want to make my problems theirs if I can avoid it. I wish I was shorter for my own sense of self—but I’m not, and I can’t control that, Whatever. It’s nobody’s fault. People can’t control everything. Sometimes things just are.

I’m not gonna begrudge someone who’s got what I don’t, I’m gonna be happy for them, so long as it’s something that works for them—and if not, I’m gonna feel some sympathy because I know some part of what it’s like. Just, from a different angle. But then, i guess i’m just not… a shitty person?

This is a thing it’s taken me a long time to put together, after what I’ve been told for the last 40 years, but on observation I really don’t seem to be that bad, haha! I make mistakes like everyone, because I’m human. I have my weaknesses. But seeing the way that some people are? Seeing the way they weaponize their own problems to vilify everyone who causes them an inconvenience, however slight or imagined, and turn it into some kind of a conspiracy of the marginalized against the privileged?

Unlike Bean Dad I’m not saying that abuse was an effective learning tool, but I guess that developing a constant paranoia about doing everything wrong and doing all I can to correct my oversights as they arise will do that. Not everything others are angry about is my fault, but neither are my own problems theirs.

And again, it’s just… so novel to have this perspective for once.

An old way to vent a muse

  • Reading time:6 mins read
(Reposted from Twitter, to clear up my feed a bit.)

The Fragile, love it as I do, was Reznor trying too hard. With Teeth is the response to that. There he deliberately lets go and runs with it. It’s exactly the opposite album. Interesting thing is, those are my two favorite of his albums. One despite its flaws, the other because of.

“The Day The World Went Away”… why is this on here? Why is it the lead single? Same for “Starfuckers, Inc.”. Disc 1 is full of nonsense. But then you get brilliance like “The Great Below”, “The Wretched”, and most of the instrumentals. Some of the best stuff he’s ever done.

It’s interesting that once Reznor chose not to kill himself trying he managed four albums in three years. As opposed to fifteen years. Granted I’m not hot on most of Year Zero and I still think The Slip is a collection of scraps. And the style is very samey over this period.

I kind of lump it all together as one era, with its ups and downs. Of that era, With Teeth is the lead attraction. The rest is extra. Doesn’t hurt that impression that the latter two albums each cost five bucks, and just appeared like magic within months of each other. And the second album was deliberately leaked in full (though in a different version) as part of its promotional ARG thing. So again, extra. The thing is, all of that stuff — it sounds like he had fun doing it. So even where it doesn’t do much for me, it’s hard to begrudge.

The only thing that gets me is this weird consensus that arose that The Slip is one of the best things he ever recorded. Which… it’s not. When it came out, I took it as a blog post of an album: unexpected, cheap, immediate. A new kind of a thing. A new way to vent a muse. I figured he’d release one of these every so often, when he had something to say. I thought that was sort of interesting. But as an album?

There’s also this weird thing of totally missing the self-effacing humor and confession of the more interesting songs on there. Like, “Discipline”? It’s using old NIN language as an ironic framework to say, “Actually, I admit my head isn’t working right. So now what?” It’s the most obvious thing in the world. I don’t think I’ve seen this acknowledged. Every review is all, “YEAH HE’S ALL RAUNCHY AGAIN!”

So I don’t really know what’s going on with the way people respond to that album. Then, I seem to be out of touch with most things.

(In response to some concerns about the quality of the last ten years — Hesitation Marks included — and the suggestion that The Fragile’s glow had dimmed over the years:)

What interests me about the 2005-2008 era is its unprecedented sincerity and intimacy, and how that aligns with Reznor’s story. Reznor almost died on the Fragile tour. He was a wreck. His life hit bottom. So he cleaned up and took a step back to look at himself. The music became therapeutic and took on the tone of a diary — the diary of a screwed-up person who was really trying to get better. So you get songs like “Every Day is Exactly the Same” and “Echoplex”, about that raw, numb sober emptiness. And the satire of “Only”. In place of theatrical rage and self-loathing (which had grown affected) the music becomes sad, playful, lost, brave, and earnest.

Mind you, despite the affected bits, The Fragile is still tied for my favorite of his albums. There’s just so much good in there. And The Downward Spiral is kind of beyond discussion or measure, really. It’s just one of the most important albums ever recorded. It is what it is.

The last decade is the era where he starts to care about things outside himself. He gets active politically. He gets married and has kids. And you can hear that expansiveness in the music. You can hear this rush of air as he unseals the vault and tries to breathe again. So that biographical element — it’s impossible for me to ignore, and with it in mind the music takes on more meaning than it might.

As for Hesitation Marks… yeah, I can hear where he is mentally, already. It seems just as sincere, but with more lavish attention. So although I don’t know how the whole thing will turn out, it’s already exciting me as another chapter in The Trent Reznor Story. It’s like Game of Thrones or The Wire or something. Each album is only part of the tale, and the sum is more than the parts. So far I’m getting the best of early and later NIN, for my tastes — the self-awareness, plus the ambition. But we’ll see, I guess!

(In response to comments about the lavish engineering on TDS and The Fragile, and its absence on the 2000s material:)

That’s all totally true, and I agree with it. The engineering in his 1990s stuff boggles the mind. I still always find new things. I’ll throw Broken in there as a prototype, as well. I’ve never heard anything else like his 1990s material, in that respect. By contrast, With Teeth is almost like a new version of PHM: stripped down, bare, almost primitive. A totally different approach. He recorded it mostly by himself on a laptop, and you can tell. The thing is, to me that suits the raw, confessional tone of it.

Rather than trying to dazzle with production, he’s trying to be honest with himself and making a real effort at straight composition. The results are often clumsy and stark — they sound more like demos than tracks off of a finished album. But that works in context. Where it gets a little old is that his next three albums have the exact same approach.

It was nice to see him experiment conceptually. Hey, concept album about politics and the end of the world. All-instrumental opus. And I guess if he’d spent all of his time layering and getting things perfect he wouldn’t have moved on and explored so much. But that sound really didn’t bear lasting for more than one album. After four albums I miss the old studio wizardry that defined NIN.

With Hesitation Marks, I’m getting a sense that this element is somewhat making its return. Layers, variety, confession, composition. I don’t know if I’m just projecting and hearing what I want to hear, and making of it what I want to make, but it feels… matured. Like the culmination of the things that he’s been doing well over the years — while still experimenting with bold, wacky nonsense.