the Barbie premiere, but soft hippieflip it

4:01pm Fri Jul 21, 2023

I’m preparing myself for Barbie tomorrow.  I’ve disinterestedly watched a Margo Robbie fanboy review of the Barbenheimer experience, I’ve uncomfortably watched Todd in the Shadows’ minidoc about Barbie Girl by Aqua (he and I don’t feel the same way about Barbie, or Aqua, and I feel like he’s produced, possibly incidentally, some amazing art here about the problems many if not all misogynistic men have with conceptualizing women as authentically human? Specifically with his weird segments of interacting with an actual Barbie. Like its a fully existential level of alienation from her as embodying anything worthy of respect, and we all agree she embodies “a woman.” It just smacked of real world gender politics in a deeply unconscious-seeming way, ooked me right out, fantastic stuff.  The review of the song/band history was fascinating as always…I guess Aqua is my Huey Newman and the News,  if NME had said all along that this is music for serial killers.  I’m regularly out in the world telling people “but actually their second album is my favourite”). Now I’m watching the actual director spoonfeed me such vital info as “the sky is painted, which is, not-incidentally, precisely how they made the Wizard of Oz, get it? We also did a pink brick road. Get it?”

There is no way this isn’t going to massively alter my viewing experience tomorrow.  I feel weird about the curtain being pulled back like this, this is dvd commentary material.

I just realized I’m not wearing a pink wig for this, which, I had been loosely planning around a pink wig.  Barbie wears pink but is blond, I should wear my yellow wig I guess, that’s the closest thing.  Shit but I wore that wig to my gf’s birthday so the people I’m going with have already seen me in it. Damn.  Uh.  I don’t have the right kind of wig for this, I don’t even have new wig money right now, uh oh.  Wait why was I planning on a wig anyway, I’m going to be on speed and mushrooms, I’ll just take it off and pet it like a cat the whole time or some shit.  Ok so the outfit has to be pink, no wig tho.  My gf said she wants to go super goth for this because she finds the juxtaposition with the movie funny so I decided to go hard in the opposite direction, like “me and my twink-tolerant vampire gf” style.  She says its like Wednesday and Enid, I barely know what that is.


6:08pm Friday

Continuing the Barbie theme; Kurtis Conner got in on it, this is good content (2 years ago and 1 year ago).  I guess I’m having a sober day after condo-sitting with my gf the past couple weeks and drinking so much over the past couple days before leaving.  I feel like, I already just ate the shrooms and I’m kinda hurly? Lil’ barfy?  I guess that’s just “anticipation” or “psychosis” or something ? I imagine that actually eating them will go better. I feel like a ghost made me relive mushroom belly for no reason for half the morning.  Maybe I’ll pull my classic routine from undergrad and marinade them in lemon juice overnight and throw them on a sub (like, get a footlong and put them on 1/4, eat the second half of the sub while in the movie) on the way to the theatre.  This is a good way to enjoy the movie raptly while absorbing virtually nothing that happens.  I look forward to attempting to transcribe my takeaways.


8:30pm Friday

Fuck, this changes everything.  Clear the next 2 hours, I’m playing with G I Joes, tonight.


That throat-meat callback tho.


Toronto shout! Yeeeeehhh boyyyyyy.


The last movie was better, I think we can all agree.  That was like 8 years ago. Damn, dude, what? Anyway good end sting gag. I respect it. Great show boys, guess that’s a wrap or something.


Challenge accepted, I had less than 24 hours to make the tribute video I wanted to make today:

I’m thinking I’ll wear pink poodle tomorrow.


12:51am Saturday July 22

Mushrooms are marinading overnight. Currently watching someone ethusiastically vlog the purchase of every Barbie dreamhouse, and a very helpful voice in my head reminds me that I actually do have a wig that’s perfect for tomorrow.  I have a full look on the books that I can use, maybe swap the top out for something I haven’t done before. Great. Back on the wig train, lol.  I should find an aux cord so I can play that Nicki/Ice Spice joint on the way to Tillicum in 12 hours.  Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll cord hunt.  Its probably time to sleep.



Nay, but it is time to fry some dumplings…

Not sure if this is Barbie behavior or not.  “Am I Barbiecoded enough, god?” sounds like a hyperpop album.


8:46am Saturday July 22

Frying some water for tea now to take my first 15mg dexy of the day.  Here’s to therapeutic doses of amphetamines and also mushrooms being fully decriminalized in my enforcement jurisdiction! DAMN it FEELS GOOD MAN to be a British Columbian.


I’ve arrived at final lqqkstination.



Gf picking me up in a few minutes. Decided to eat the shrooms before leaving.  I feel bad about eating tuna but I don’t know what other kind of sub would work to taste-mask this, especially vegetarian, seeing how I don’t like falafel (stupid of me), so it’s becoming a headache to consider and I’m just going to throw the shrooms between two hashbrowns with mayo and have citrus juice for chaser.

Looks like preserved pig intestines, revolting.


Me absolutely feeling myself on the way there while rapidly coming up on the shrooms. Got an aux cord!


I went to the back door for a quick dab and got locked in to the weird concrete liminal space between the outside-outside doors and the interior set of doors, so I had to exit entirely and I need go around the front again.  In so doing I’ve encountered the distasteful sight of a horribly ugly clearcut hill in the middle-distance, atop which a featurelessly soviet-looking government building sits, proudly sporting the Canada logo:

Horrid! Unwanted! I’m going back into the movie.


Coming down I want to check in and formulate a few notes. For starters I took too much, man, too much.  I have never been that high in a movie theatre and I wouldn’t like to be again.  I was reminded of nothing so much as being trapped (by my own accord) in an airborn metal coffin-shaped structure going 360 degrees very quickly at the pne while on acid before the Billy Idol concert.  It was painfully unpleasant.  I spent the entirety of the movie snarled up like a dying cranefly telling myself how much longer it would be and asking Goddess why I had done this to myself.  I began feeling distinctly miserable as I entered an hour and a half long peak during the previews, which were assaultitively edited-for-sober/understimulated-people aka children.  Bodily–for the entire film–I wanted nothing more than to be horizontal, somewhere I could writhe around freely and comfortably, eg my girlfriend’s bed at home.  Instead I was at a 1pm opening weekend showing of “fighting the white capitalist cisheteropatriarchy in heels” surrounded by literal children, unexpectedly (I thought Barbie was for old people, the movie also makes this point), many of whom closest to me were maliciously giggling as some sort of stunt.  (According to my read.) (I was high.) Regardless, they did stop when the movie started, because it was successfully enthralling to the packed theatre.  I should note that the millennial milf demographic slightly further away than the horrible horrible preteens all around us, were very quick with the like audible hoots of approval and at one point saw-that-heard-that-felt-that applause broke out.  Around the time that the mom who gives Barbie cellulite and thoughts of death goes off about the fruitlessness of normative male approval under christofascism.

At one point I found myself screaming “why do I have to be Hunter S Thompson Ken” in my head at myself.

I found it impossible to tell exactly how much of the melty cartooniness of the scenery was because of the mushrooms.  The matte grey paneled walls of the theatre were awash in an overlay of baroque geometry morphing and kaleidoscoping through forms and colors.  So like probably about half of what I was perceiving in the background art was literally visually present.

I found myself frequently frozen in a comedic-feeling rictus like a Greek mask of tragedy, clinging to my girlfriend who I continually begged in my head for relief from the ordeal, repeatedly ascribing her the status of “cloth mother” (as opposed to wire mother).

Oh by the way my dead granny’s name is Ruth and she was about in proportion to me as Rhea Pearlman is to Margo Robbie.  Imagine being on a hallucinogen and also dubious about whether this is all a simulation where only you personally are an AI and everyone else is real world players you couldn’t fathom, and then a blown out shot of your dead granny is like I created you blablabla and you’re like “so regardless of the whole am-I-a-FAKE-brain-in-a-jar-being-prodded-by-disinterested-aliens-beyond-my-imagining-because-Im-an-algorithmic-response-to-history-they-barely-comprehend… issue…like, leaving that aside, metaphysically speaking in normal (religious) people parameters, this works as Goddess talking to me and also my angel granny being part of her now and also talking directly to me through echoing into this film, and I am now sobbing.” Mostly though it seemed like, the aliens playing with me-the-brain-in-a-jar just wanted to hand in their homework and thus, the Barbie movie script etc.  Taking that tinfoil hat off and putting on my megalomanic hat, all my cybermancy is really paying off, the culture is like, progressing.  You’re telling me everyone signed off on this? “Everyone” like Mattel, the studios, Ryan Gosling’s agent, the mainstream viewing public, “everyone”? That’s actually phenomenal.

But oh Lordt, you do not want to be socio-emotionally and -politically oriented to these issues in the ways I am and then also be on a heroic dose of mushrooms in a crowd of sober minors and have to white-kunckle it through a bigscreen viewing of Barbie experincing the pollution–the existential rape–of Barbieland by dire macho drekitude…with choreo.

I can barely begin to express to someone who hasn’t done even a gram of psilocybin, how utterly unhinged of a thing to do this was.  I was smart to bring a snuggie insomuch as I distinctly DID want a blankey, but I was so painfully unable to relax while vertical with strange preteens (the worst people) around me that it was simply irrelevant that I had it.

There were a couple fleeting moments of the kind of manageable “simply elevated, not accordioning in and out of bodysync” high I was aiming for.  I like when Barbie and Ken get arrested, it reminded me of when I had to get mugshotted regarding an assault-on-police charge (he said my spit got on his shoe as I biked past him). The musical sting was really satisfying.  The scene with all the Kens doing accoustic renditions of that horrible yarling song about being a quasi-unconscious shithead really made me feel better about never learning the guitar.  (It makes my hand cramp.)

I think there’s a lot of underexplored chemistry between Kate and Margo, let’s make them kiss!  (In the sequel.) (This is a tongue in cheek joke that offers some scant, mystified commentary on the ellided natures of celebrity-as-commodity and femoid-as-commodity under capitalism and thru the objectifying lens of its gaze. There’s a thread of thought in my mind here about imagined authorship as well, which I dont want to expand on, but thats so obtuse. I dunno, have fun with that little clue I guess.  What does it approximately mean, do you think?)

I shouldn’t have worn bondage gear I actually use for sex, as casual accessories for this.  While high it is very unignorable stuff to be wearing, but I also felt weird about fussing with it enough to take it off. I felt paradoxically compelled to stay in bondage by the presence of the minors, who themselves were part of the reason I wanted to not be wearing it, accutely so at times.

So like, there’s advice here about how to structure your next theatrical experience and/or mushroom trip, if you read between the lines. Don’t do what Donny Don’t does.


9:41am Sunday July 23

I’m having last thoughts about Barbie’s de-masc-Barbieland playbook: she encourages the Barbies to weaponize “female choosiness” in “mate selection”.  This assumes the toxic men have no recourse for this maneuver like we’re in endgame as long as the women encourage male-male competition in order to disrupt the formation of patriarchal organization instead of falling for its encouragements toward hyperfocusing on individual level female-female competition for “powerful” males.  In a species that doesn’t express rape, this might well be true, “female cooperation” is the whole endgame.  But, much like mallards or orangutans and a handful of other examples of rapacious species of animal, humans rape, and what patriarchal men do when they’re pitted against eachother is turn around and rape the people doing it.  Some of these women would end up dead in the real world from assuming you could treat these men that way without being raped and/or murdered for it.  So a better solution for cleaning up the culture so its more like proper Barbieland is obviously to remove the most aggressively patriarchal males entirely, through a series of socially sanctioned “accidents” or outright executions ?


Kill your rapist AND their stooges. I suggest getting into the bricks and mortar of how Ted Kaczynski operated.



By the way, on reflection, the movie this most reminds me of aesthetically (visually and in terms of narrative movement) is the Canadian masterpiece “Brain Candy.” This is probably a final thought, I have to stop this piece somewhere.



Actually here is my last word, having reread everything I said: if you have a pavlovian gag reflex response to the thought of shoveling a bunch of magic mushrooms into your mouth, remember that the mushrooms just taste like a 2×4 or manky sawdust or something–its not the taste that makes you sick, its not anything about the literal eating of them.  They taste fine.  And if they taste fine, they’re easy to eat.  You’re just all twisted up because you’re being psyched out somehow–your body knows what comes next and it feels like it doesn’t want to be poisoned like that again actually.  Ignore it.  Make sure you have a glass of oj to wash them down, like you’re taking pills or are a 7 year old who has to eat the zucchini before leaving the table.  This is easier than you think it is, “mind over matter” as they say. Pretend they’re actually made out of something else–this is why I like to make sandos with them, tho I also slug the bites down with oj just for the sake of expediency.

PS I never did take more speed, and it would have been a whole nightmare of horrified sexual frustration if I’d taken two to start with so praise whatever mysterious force caught that for me.  I spent 3 hours jacking off after we got home because my gf wasn’t horny and it took as many (3) ruined orgasms to get one full one off. At one point I was fantasizing about railing my gf and like, I was still shrooming enough that the pov in my fantasy pulled to 3rd person and then “I” turned around and it was Ryan Gosling’s face and he winked at me.  That wasn’t even one of the ruined orgasms like I was only starting to get there, but I had to stop anyway and complain for a minute.


Ok final item fr fr:


Fuck ok, I should say I feel like this pic has high rewatchability. Also the children were probably just giggling artificially as a bit, not maliciously as a stunt. Experimenting with weaponized femininity? Or just postmodernism…

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