8/1/26
sometimes i have words in my brain and i don't know where they came from or what they mean. vomitorium was one of those that i half believed i made up but in actuality i probably heard it somewhere and my brain latched onto it but had forgotten where or the meaning. vomitorium literally has nothing to do with vomit, though it does metaphorically. it's just an architectural name for an exit/entry way into an ancient roman stadium, coming from the latin word to spew forth, ya know like vomiting.
our traditional definition of vomit is the involuntary expulsion of contents from the stomach through the mouth, but in this latin sense i would imagine the act of eating (see to exit out the entrance, to leave from whence you came - add later) to be a sort of vomit as well, with food entering and spewing forth to the stomach. i like this sort of contronym, two contridictory meanings for one word, as opposed to consume/produce, because you can't really have one without the other but we speak and think about those acts as if they could be divorced from each other. you can never consume without producing something in return, and vice versa. you can never vomit without vomiting. i've been concerned with being a consumer lately, of goods and services, of art and media, and feeling like i'm never satiated while gobling the world whole and simultaneously too comfortable with the little being given. the truth is i've only been looking at half of the whole; everything i've ever consumed has led to the production of me and thus my work. yes we are consumers, and we are producers. we are vomit, the spewing forth. i make no moral judgement on this act of itself, all i will say is you are what you eat.
this site is to be like a kind of vomitorium into my brain for people to enter, gawk at the spectacle, then leave, maybe a bit entertained or disgusted or confused at what they witnessed. in a more metaphorical sense it's also like my brain spewing forth its contents onto this site. i hope some thing, whether it be entertainment or disgust or confusion, is spewed forth to your brain in return. so pass through the vomitorium to behold the brain vomit of lulu...
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8/2/26
i guess i will keep on theme here. why is it everytime i speak or publicly express myself i get this immense feeling of shame and guilt? as if i had actually vomited in front of everyone and now we all have to look at my regurgitated innards splattered on the floor and inhale the sour stench in the air and everyone knows that thing came from me. unfortunately i'm no stranger to the cosntant loop of past conversations playing in my head at night. it just leaves me regretting ever speaking at all. i've always thought that i would be a selective mute if i weren't such a people pleaser. it even bleeds into this site with anonymously expressing myself where already i just want to delete it all. but i really don't want to live this way, with an ever growing nuclear bomb of bottled thoughts and feelings in my chest. who knows when that thing will explode and take me out with it. i've tried to reason with it by excuse of introversion, or that it's just who i am. i think that's true to an extent; i will always be first and foremost uncomfortable with being perceived. that really pisses me off because i desperately want to be understood, so what the hell kind of shit is that where i won't speak but i want you to know who i am anyway? so little by little i must burp the bomb in my chest, day by day i'll vomit here and and there to let people know that thing comes from me. maybe one day once the bomb had been deflated and i shrink back down to my size, i won't have room to keep anything inside, and it will be easier to let it all go.
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8/5/26
i've never been much of a travler. i do enjoy it at times and i have been a few places, but it has never been something i feel i must do. in fact, it scares me a lot of the time and i find i've always craved a sense of familiarity that traveling makes impossible. it's not that i'm not curious about the world or its people, it's that i wish i could live a million lifetimes exploring it. i want to be intimately familiar with the whole world, to feel at home in it. i can't ever do that, so either way i'm sat in the lap of dissatisfaction. i'm someone who once i find something i enjoy, i must wear it down, explore every hidden crack and then make some up if i've run out of any to find, play it over and over until it becomes so asbtract i can't make out the words anymore. i remember even as a child when operating on instincts not yet packaged into a logical reasoning, i would purposely destroy the toys i loved most, take them apart to see what was inside. if i didn't care about it, it would sit unused and pristine on the shelf. there was a satisfaction in it, where after it had been changed and unrecognizable but known, i could finally be done with it and move on to the next.
i'm aware of this tendency in myself, so now that i've grown up and and grown a mind of my own, i've somewhat corrected this (perhaps overcorrected at times because now i've lost the sensation of hunger, or i can't recongnize it in myself, so i only eat when the bell i've set rings and tells me to do so). i've found that desctruction is a sort of creation. there we go again trying to separate things that are of the same. you can't have destruction without creation, vice versa. creation fulfills that same satisfaction destruction once did, so these days i make lots of things - art, pottery, music, food, poems, gardens. that's not to say there's no desctruction involved, (in fact i destroy myself everytime only to create myself once again and on and on, except as i age it feels each time there's less to build on. there's a satisfaction in that, being used up, being useful, then i can move on to the next life.) only i'm very careful about the things i choose to sacrifice. i'm in the world of environmentalism so immediately my mind goes to conservation and the destruction of earth. i don't think we could ever have a world without destruction, and as long as humans are creators, we must be so very careful about what we choose to sacrifice and thus what we choose to create. these days, we are sacrificing everything to create a hot pile of shit. it doesn't have to be that way though, which is really the most frustrating thing about it.
traveling to someone's home, crossing vast distances, has a destructive quality to it. the resources it takes to get there, the space that must be made in their home once you do, the gap you leave behind in your home. similarily, so much can be created from these things as well, you need only look at the vast migration of humans over millennia of history to see both. we must all be careful about what we choose to sacrifice. humans alone have been given two gifts: the ability to know and learn from our history and discresion. if only we'd use them. i will start with myself first.
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