An Unfinished Rant I Wrote In Class


I wrote it off the top of my head because it was a really boring class.  I felt a little guilty writing about rape camps while the teacher discussed early childcare, but whatchu gonna do.  Not as guilty though as when I wrote this story while on the playground at the daycare I worked at, surrounded by kids.

Anyway, here it is, exactly as I wrote it in my notebook.  Bear in mind that it was written as fast as I could write and therefore has no real beginning or end or structure of any sort.  But I think it’s pretty good for all that.  Oh, it all came from the idea that “tagging” is also a word for spray painting graffiti.  I don’t think I explained that.  Anyway:

Spray Paint

And that’s what it’s all about, you put your whole self in, tagging is all about evolution, the need to seed, I believe that children are our future, they’re shook-up copies of us, like a Jackson Pollock painting co-authored, tagging is ejaculatory, shake, squeeze, spray, put your name on the wall, make it yours, impregnate it with meaning, even if that meaning is just your name, Kilroy was here, or even just your initials or Lori + Mark 4 Eva (and you know they’re broken up by now), birds’ songs are so sweet but the lyrics are only “My tree / My tree” chorus and verse and bridge and all, and blogging oh jesus yes the exact same thing, the best thing about the internet is that any idiot can blog even me, and the worst thing about the internet is that any idiot can blog even you, we blog about the news bias against our candidate and how underrated our home team is and how many incompetents there are at w*rk (everyone thinks they’re an above-average driver) and how can anyone not be enthralled by our kids and what diamonds in the rough our creative writing is so postmodern and edgy and above the limits of dead tree publishing, and it all boils down to real life, for men it’s all about impregnating as many as possible, a lion and his harem, in fact all the male lions do is the females, the women hunt and nurture while the men come in them and fight each other and if one kills the other it’s his cubs that are next, in Bosnia they would kill the men and they’d just put the women in a rape camp so they’d be forced to carry foreign babies, like a virus, malware, a worm, actually most like a trojan, the original trojan horse, put your sperm in your enemy’s wooden womb and send it back self-addressed, we write love and hate and me me me meme, a spray paint of blood and semen and shit all over the wall, ugly but beautifully human, the marketplace of personalities, DNA trying to spread itself by hook and by crook and by prick and by book, some find a co-author and reproduce for real, reproduce imperfect copies, xeroxes with poetic license, other put themselves out there in writing, only perverted by language, collared and taken for a walk, sometimes on a choke collar sometimes a gentle leader, a bad copy not for mixing with another’s genes but from the errors of language and inference and the fact that touching someone through words is goddamn fucking hard, your soul tries to spread its own genes, a double metaphysical helix, but whether ’tis nobler to use the pen or the sword who knows, writers are either wankers or… whatever the opposite of bukkake is, one person trying to come in everyone else, right up their braincase, writers are headcases, egotists who only communicate to self-aggrandize, enough about me what do you think of me, even when they’re making love they’re just wanking inside you, you’re not an equal you’re an administrative assistant to their penis, they just write to get their name out there and boy were they happy when someone invented postmodernism, now art is as much about the artist, pomofos writing heartbreaking works of staggering genius, a tampon in a teacup or a bra with tassels with cigars on the ends, or just a toilet, which is at least useful, writing your name on the wall to make buildings into temples to yourself


2 Responses to “An Unfinished Rant I Wrote In Class”

  1. annoying Says:


    I read this at breakneck speed, considering it was written furtively, it seemed like the thing to do.

    It’s very male-oriented. What about female writers?

  2. aricollins Says:

    Yeah, one thing about this rant is that it is extremely patriarchal and phallic. What can I say? I think part of it is how many metaphors in our male-dominated languages are about penises. Practically every euphemism for male masturbation is violent: jerk off, beat off, choke it, wank, etc. And a lot of the metaphors for male masturbation are about wasting sperm, which is kind of the center for this rant. Wasting energy, taking something that should be about interaction and making it self-centered and wasteful. Wankery.

    However, I can’t just blame society. A lot of the rest of this rant is about how men are driven to spread their selves everywhere, that evolution demands it of men. I don’t really say it, but there are plenty of evolutionary theorists (anti-feminists perhaps based on your perspective) who believe that there is a genetic reason that more men are famous artists than women. I’m not at all saying I believe that. But there’s definitely a genetic drive among men away from monogamy, which has more genetic advantages for women than for men. And, in a way, writing is as polyamorous as you can get. Or as masturbatory, if you can’t get anyway.

    Just some thoughts.

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