A friend of Baron XIII's tells the following story about himself:
So I was walking home from work the other night, and I passed by this whole bunch of schoolkids--maybe eight, nine years old. And out of nowhere, they start booing me. Like, hissing and really reacting bad to my being in their line of sight. This kinda bothers me--makes me think. So I keep walking, getting pissed off, and I turn the corner, and this bunch of bikers passes by me. Looking up, I can see them waving at me and I realize they're a bunch of dudes I know from an old DJ'ing gig. So I smile--wave back. I'm still a little pissed off about the kids having booed me, but it was nice to see some familiar, smiling faces to lift my mood.And that's when I realize--"oh yeah--I'm a dirtbag."
I think I've only recently internalized that I'm a dirtbag--or at least that I seem to play one on the internet. Take a look at my Tumblr page, if you will. It's a wasteland of nun smut, hot rods, macabre art, and what I'll politely call "erotic militaria." This represents a portion of what I'm interested in*, but it paints A Very Particular Image for the casual viewer. It's not that it's an inaccurate image, it's just that it doesn't display, say, my love of adorable cat pictures or my quest for recipes that involve artichokes**.
*Help--I've been working Corporate for too long! I'm visualizing everything in the form of pie charts.
**I won't brook any disagreement on the topic of artichokes. There are two kinds of people: Those who like artichokes, and those who are WRONG.
Tumblr is full of weird crap, only some of which I know anything about.
The Dirtbag Moment*** occurs when someone I know (who is likely a much nicer person than I am, and probably not a dirtbag at all) re-blogs a stranger's photo of a kitten doing something particularly heartwarming, and my clicky-finger goes directly to the heart-shaped LIKE THIS button. But I hesitate--the original, unknown-to-me poster will be able to see that Tenebrous Kate, this Queen Dirtbag who posts nothing but kink and occult weirdness all day long, is enjoying his or her kitten picture. If I click that LIKE button, a connection will be formed, and I'll have unintentionally made someone's day a little squickier even though my interest in the aforementioned kitten picture is really entirely innocent.
***That shit is COINED, bitches.
I guess the takeaway is multi-fold:
- Just the act of placing an image/link/thought near other images/links/thoughts gives them new meaning. Frequently, this new context adds fascinating layers of significance to those images/links/thoughts. And sometimes those meanings just wind up being kinda weird and distasteful to other people.
- My interest in your kitten photos is entirely innocent.
- Oh yeah--I'm a dirtbag.
9 comments:
Well, truth be told...this is something I think about quite often.
I have noticed one or two or several dozen folks who have "followed" me over the past year or so with unsavory user names and who seem to post all manner of vile, filthy things. (I realize this makes me sound like Great Aunt Prune). I confess to being appalled by a great many of them. And then I must "tut-tut" myself for taking it so seriously and like you mentioned, that's probably only a portion of their personality. Hopefully, anyhow.
What am I trying to say? I don't know. Though, I will also confess this : I have never had an artichoke.
My Tumblr dash is so bad that it will frequently have a kitten in a teacup right above a woman pissing on a crucifix.
I am so sorry for posting Abby, btw. I took such grief when I said I hated her, and after roughing up Kevin Smith this week I am feeling vulnerable.
I lie and say I don't care what people think of me, but I know deep down I am an attention seeking man-whore. I freebase even the most moderate praise, like a broke pothead scraping resin from his bong, I smoke that shit up. LOVE ME!
What were we talking about?
As for spoiling someone's picture, you never know when a fellow dirt-bag is actually running that doily blog. I have a Twitter friend who is always posting puppies and bunnies, then a few months later I find out she runs a bondage site. She just doesn't talk about it much.
I refuse to think of you as a dirtbag. Why? Where I'm from, a real dirtbag owns that Metallica "Metal Up Your Ass" t-shirt with the blade coming out of the toilet. I know that shirt wouldn't fly in your household. Thus, not a dirtbag.
http://www.bloody-disgusting.com/forums/picture.php?albumid=175&pictureid=1242
you may be a dirtbag, but you're a whip-smart dirtbag with a heart of gold. you could never bring anyone else down, kitten, you can only widen their horizons. i genuinely mean that. :D
@Jack - I at one time had a "Master of Puppets" t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. In my defense, it was 1986 Tennessee.
Hello, My name is Cranky and I'm a Dirtbag.
I am married to a fellow Dirtbag. Anyone who visits our home and sees the stuff we own, knows we are Dirtbags meant for each other.
I also love kittens and artichokes.
I thought I would state this so you know that you are not alone.
We are Dirtbags! Say it Loud and Proud!
You're welcome.
PS I do own that old Metallica t-shirt, along with many other questionable metal and punk shirts from Back In The Day...so yes, I am a dirtbag.
But dirtbags are awesome when they don't have the word "McGee" in their names!
Wait, does this mean I should be constantly sending you cute and/or kinky photos of my cats?
I think there's only one solution to this problem: You need to start up a blog devoted entirely to cute kitten pix/artichoke recipes. There, all better!
Seriously though, I face this issue every time something from VOH is posted on my main Facebook page and I get people I went to grammar school with 25 years ago thinking, jeez, what the hell happened to Solomon...? Bless you and your Facebook-eschewing ways, Kate! You are wise, indeed.
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