garbagegirl cumcore

Categories: environmentalism, fashion, innersanctum, petroleum

I’m the host & you’re my parasites

The other night, I had typed up an aggressive complaint about the entitlement of online voyeurs. Instead of posting it, because I do not want to actually offend anyone, I will simply pull some quotes from it for you, dearest prison warden reader, to enjoy :

1 . “People” (not me, ofc) are so entitled. They demand, and demand! AND NEED! The endless neediness is only sexy (to me) when one is groveling, begging, pleading, and profusely apologizing, wracked with an unrelenting guilt for their neediness. You’re thirsty? That’s actually pathetic. You SHOULD feel ashamed for breathing. All that air…and you’re… just, what? Inhaling? Like a slave? Fuck you. If you’re so needy, and want, so much, you ought better to figure that out for yourself, by yourself, and stop expecting and wanting other people to satisfy your needs for you. You, in fact, are not a baby. If you can’t entertain yourself in near total isolation, maybe you don’t deserve socialization.

2. Not to be objectively more unique than you, but I’d rather talk about how a single person is like... an ant, … on autopilot, … in the terrestrial hive, babbling a fountain of saliva and oozing out filtered water and blood; evaporating slowly with each ray of sunshine—and, how, and potentially why—we are slowly cannibalized by the oxidizing atmosphere, while simultaneously pinned down to this grotesque, putrefying surface by the oppressive chains of gravity. Can you imagine the reality? Carcasses nailed down to the rotating earth, whip-lashed through space as their corpses slowly atomize and turn to microscopic dust particles, swirling inside the atmosphere. It’s very real.

3. Ugh, I need to be mean. I genuinely need to be absolutely verbally abusive. I need to write a letter so incisive that it becomes a mythological and literal curse that kills anyone who reads it. A letter so cruel that they imprison me for thinking it. To craft a document regarded as a crime contained in literature. That would be something. The Marquis de Sade gets it, and I have no problem with being a 33 year old woman who says this. But you know what stops me from casting this, admittedly, genocidal spell? Dealing with people, like you. That’s the beauty of institutionalization. Being (usually) left alone.


This is why you think you care:
✄┈┈┈┈ You’re horny.
✄┈┈┈┈ You’re hungry.
✄┈┈┈┈ You’re lonely.
✄┈┈┈┈ You’re sick, and the virus is brainwashing you into wanting social interaction for its own survival and reproduction.
The virus is biological; the “virus” is memetic: Either way, you only want to exchange with another person to replicate an ideology or a germ infection. You are a vessel, to billions of parasites, and your mouth is an orifice for transmission; your eyes are a lure to attract prey to infect, etc, etc. It’s so sad to be such a utility. Don’t you think? *๑♡՞

5. Personally, I think everyone online should be doxxed, on site. I want a government ID on the landing page. Tax records under the display name. All of it. No more of this anonymous bastard offspring stuff. I want legitimate people/ users only.

Narcissism only exists in media

There is something truly deranged about socialization. People think it’s anonymity that liberates the psyche from social norms, which censor cruelty and incivility. To truly adhere to the atomic isolation of the digital age, it ought to be argued that “Other People” are the prison bars that enforce self-censorship, conformity and group-think, all in an effort to subdue the individual and lower them to the mediocre standards of the homogeneous group. And because the homogeneous group is mass-produced by global consumer industry, the individual is submerged in a globally homogeneous group of consumers; so, in any case, this means that merely socializing with another person forces you to become part of this industrial scale socialization output.

By socializing, you enter the production chain of consumer socialization, which feeds development of consumer products and trends. Socializing: Never Once. You’re literally giving Netflix free ideas when you text your friends. I hope you know that. And I hope you feel so, so bad Speaking of Netflix – – Crocs and those Kanye West inspired Cum shoes sort of look like Netflix, but in clothes version. I’ll post a collage later, to discuss this further.

What I mean to say, I think, is that socializing sucks. People expect so much from me, they demand a level of “authenticity,” and “transparency.” And they want me to please them, and satisfy them. And it’s too oppressive for me. Just fuck off! [Very rare 1 in 10 million that I like and want to keep around and who don’t give me this feeling of pressure, and to them, if they ever read this, You’re So Special]. Also, there is something to say about “transparency as reality,” & the epistemological crisis, but maybe another time, unless I forget…

On the one hand, I want to express myself, and write my thoughts, and on the other, I don’t want to give a single idea to anyone I don’t like, and on the third arm, of the hottest man on earth with the biggest dick on earth, I don’t want anyone to even know me. The thing is that… Um… To 90% of people, I’m a performer and this is a show. I wish they would understand that they’re the audience, and they will not and cannot ever actually know me. You waste your time here while I’m just playing a game. I don’t owe you anything. Sit back and watch, from the shadows, in silence, like the voyeuristic pervert you are. And remember this: WE ARE NOT EQUALS. You want to be equals? Come find me in real life, where we can at least know the content of each others auras, and recycle each others air. Then we’ll decide where in the socialization hierarchy we both belong. So long as you’re reading this from the same screens where you file your taxes, write work e-mails, read obscure pdfs, watch porn, and virtually interact with your friends and family; you’re nothing but a bot. Human rights are denied online. Please stop insulting humanity by pretending otherwise.

I feel so inhibited by “Other People” right now that it’s literally debilitating my capacity to express myself online. I don’t want to upset anyone, but I’m also so tired of the way people feed off me, like vultures… no offense… But I don’t want to be a charity shop. People should pay me to take from me, to derive pleasure from my existence, whether that pleasure be mental, spiritual or otherwise. I don’t owe you anything, but you definitely owe me.

Let me be perfectly honest: I’m 33, and I’m on day 34 of my cycle, which means that if I don’t get my period by tomorrow, I’ll technically be late, and my period has been a source of anxiety since I had my baby. For some reason, I feel like I’m 70 years old and will soon commence menopause. This may be due to having read too much about microplastics and endocrine disruptions, and the fact that both women and men have reproductive hormone loss that basically renders our hormonal functioning equivalent to a middle aged person when we’re in our 20s, or something. Say nothing of age acceleration caused by petroleum byproducts, and COVID. Well, we all must be enslaved to something. The sun, and biology, are slavers of another, higher order. The sun is God, and biology is Satan, since whatever is above humanity is divine, and whatever is below us is profane. This is why I’m really in an evil mood. Satan is controlling me through my deteriorating biological functioning.

Cumcore / lipidcore

Semi-relatedly, I’ve been thinking about fatness. Particularly because I have been called “thick,” by multiple men. I’ve also been actually fat, and I think I’m currently fat. I was maybe “thick” a few months ago, but I think I’ve gained weight again, since not walking for hours searching for someone to rescue me. In any case, I did finally get my husband to admit that he likes fat, because for years, he denied it, which made no sense, because obviously he liked fat if he liked me. I’m so sick of talking and thinking about my appearance, but Fatness reminds me of Nourishment which reminds of Deterioration and Rot. Which brings us to what I refer to as #Cumcore, #Sugarcore, #Buttercore, or #Lipidcore. This trend can look like a bio-hazard bag of fat removed during liposuction.

Cumcore elements

Color palette :

  • Beige
  • Cream
  • Offwhite
  • Gold
  • (Warm) silver
  • (Warm) gray
  • Butter (fat) yellow
  • Flesh tones

Types of fabric :

  • Organza
  • 3D printed plastics
  • Plastic
  • Cling wrap
  • Tulle
  • Silk
  • Satin
  • Polyester
  • Rubber
  • Nylon
  • Body tape

Decorative themes :

  • Bandages
  • Corsets
  • Lingerie
  • Ruffles
  • Lace
  • Lace-up
  • Ribbon
  • Transparency
  • Wetlook
  • Cutouts
  • Athleisure

This is one fashion trend which makes obvious that bodies are mere hangers for petroleum. The more one’s culture relies on hydrocarbons, the more the body must be austere (a working theory of mine related to “unnatural” inversions — where organic life (human bodies in this case) become the skeletal infrastructure and oil becomes the body & “flesh”). Related to the dislike of fatness: fat actually takes away from polyester, as fatness not only makes survival during heat more difficult (related to climate change as a consequence of polyester production), but being fat while covered in petroleum (polyester) increases bodily temperature. You wear fat. You do not become fat. Let us also remember that oil is fat. Oil wants you skinny, so that you can wear more of it, inject more of it, cover your skin with more of it, so you produce more of it, and need more of it. Oil wants you fat because it wants to be inside of you, it wants you to inhale it through oxygen masks and anesthesia, in pill capsules and bottle caps… Just do whatever it wants and everyone will be hurt.

Personally, I love cumcore and would like to implement more of it into my wardrobe. There have been some pop-ups of it probably throughout history, but I remember Kim Kardashian’s wetlook really inspiring me with it, and then noticing it even more apparently with Julia Fox, who I LOVE so!!! much. If you’re not a fan of her, you’re not a fan of me, because if I were famous, I would wear almost exactly what she wears. I think her sense of style is so garbagegirl wastecore cumcore, which is just… so perfection to me! Nevertheless, I think it was her oil spill mermaid looks that first came to my attention, and then she had some exceptional plastic looks, featured below:

What I find interesting is that this is 100% related to Kanye West, and pornography, which if you’re unaware, there exists a popular cling wrap-plastic wrap suffocation and bondage fetish nearly identical to these types of looks. I’m sure it’s been confirmed that sexual fetishes are related to “capitalism”, and product manufacturing processes, so, it’s unsurprising that both sexual fetishes and fetish-fashion-wear mimic the industrial proliferation of petroleum based products and the resultant pollution of those same products.

To the prior point: Kanye West. I was never a fan of his casual style, and in fact, I resent the fact that most people wear casual clothes; especially men, and their penchant for athletic sweatsuits. I resent athleisure, and Kanye West, and Kim Kardashian, with her SKIMS line, for normalizing it (though I love Kim Kardashian and forgive her for any wrongdoing and SKIMS is nowhere near as guilty as Adidas, Nike, and Kanye West, etc.). Their mainstream consumer fashion influence, however, is the mid-way point between pure sweatsuits, Crocs to blatant plastic clothing. To me, the gradient starts on the left, with Kanye West’s 2015 luxury homeless apparel, Crocs and those terrible modern shoes, then lululemon & more lingerie inspired athleisure (coquette pilates girl type), then further right, with luxury lingerie and body sculpting fashion, then full on into cumcore and fatcore.

Here, another ugly collage:

In the same direction, sweatsuits are, typically, at least, cotton polyester elasthane blends, while body sculpting lingerie, nylons, and most athleisure and almost always and primarily, polyester-petroleum based, and Bianca Censori’s plastic dress obviously is pure plastic (unless it’s something organic, like silk, mimicking plastic, which would TRULY be perfection).

It’s also interesting to note that as cumcore has become more prominent, so has thinness re-emerged as an ideal. To restate the obvious: you wear fat, which is to say, you wear decadence. Your body is infrastructure for product; it is not the product. Furthermore, cumcore is about wearing the ghost of life, wearing the simulation of life, on a lifeless, “sterile” body. Human bodies become literally infertile through chemical pollution (ironically, by absorbing toxins through clothes, ingesting them through plastic bottles, skincare, makeup and related hygiene and beauty products, inhaling nanoplastics in the air) while we wear symbolic representations of fertility (cum as male fertility and fat as feminine fertility). Which, when put together, are symbolic of fossil fuel capitalism and the necrosis of organic life, as it descends ever downward into mass, planetary extinction.

To put it more simply: the human body increasingly becomes lifeless and signifiers of reproductive health, such as sperm and “quality” fats (used for fetal brain development & baby development during breastfeeding), are decoratively worn on the body to represent a life that can no longer be maintained, nor reproduced. This necrotic, synthetic simulation of life becomes a decorative and romantic ideal in fashion, art, porn and whatever…

Another key element is the fact that the Kardashians are oil saleswomen. Makeup, skincare, beauty products, along with polyamide and elasthane (SKIMS), in addition to televisions, iPhones, etc., are all entirely reliant on fossil fuels. You think you’re buying lip plumping glossy blowjob bubblegum, but it’s actaully pure oil. Personally? I do love that. The earth should be infertile, and devoid of life, like a corpse wearing makeup, all dolled up with formaldehyde (also petroleum based).

Who knew I could also be a fashion philosopher? 😇
[As the conspiracy saying goes, there are no coincidences, and believe it or not, I am probably the second or third wave of petroleum conspiracy theorists, but as the climate worsens, believe me, we will multiply].

That’s not to say that the “real” decadent bodies of fossil fuel capitalism are going without representation. One clear example comes from the mind of Michaela Stark. I found her a year or so ago, and have been a devoted follower since. In a way, her fashion is sort of antithetical and shadow to the lounge-fetishwear of cumcore. While cumcore is all about placing the inside outside, Michaela Stark’s fashion seems to me, half-baroque-rococo and half distortion of the human body through modernity. Her designs transfigure the flesh in a similar way as does plastic surgery (which is, you guessed it, also primarily petroleum based, like, it’s not called “plastic surgery” for nothing?), bit without actually having to undergo surgery. And though her work isn’t confined to corsets, as history would have, with the progression of linear time circling always closer to entropy, so does too, the complexity of transfiguring the organically living form.

Now, considering that I initially started this post today to rant about the imprisoning social obligation required to maintain social connections, I hope “you’ll forgive” that my thinking here is disorganized and probably nonsensical, much like most of everything else I say and type. Nevertheless, I’m exhausted. And using this godforsaken WordPress wastes so much of my time, trying to arrange the photos and attach source links to the pictures… OMG…

Okay. . . So, first all of. Though I admire Ms. Stark’s work, I have to say that I have a feeling her work will remain avant-garde and obscure. It will, like everything else unusual and extreme, remain at the fringes, accessible to the poor (via instagram, and as pictured in the symbolic association pictured with the “BRING BACK GISELE” t-shirt) and the ultra wealthy (her pieces are delicately crafted and resevered for celebrities and the wealthy). There is no problem with this, I don’t critique it; I only mention it to point out the discrepancy between clothes like sweatsuits and SKIMS (expensive, yet fast-fashion adjacent and fast-fashion fuel), and the baroque and rococo inspired bondage, exemplified by Ms. Stark’s. There is also the economic subtext, which is that Stark’s work clearly aligns with “what is,” where luxury often/usually exploits “what ought.” (as mechanism for shame and self-effacement).

As far as petroleum imagery goes, Stark’s fashion is emblematic of petroleum disfiguring the human form, whereby petroleum has the agency. Kanye’s normalized plastic porn is almost like humanity exercising some agency, as it “seems” to negotiate its position under fossil fuel consumption, or it totally surrenders to it, as embodied by sweatsuits and Crocs. In Kanye’s world, we erase and disfigure our bodies to best wear petroleum, we sink into the comfort of petroleum: subtly in sweatsuits, with plastic shoes, or obviously and blantantly, like Julia Fox & Bianca Censori do. In Stark’s world, we are shown how bodies have been (polluted), mutilated, shaped, inflated, and distorted by petroleum. It’s the hydrocarbons (and fat) that are more agentic in her world. The oil itself is the playground. Which is why fashion and “fatphoria” like hers will remain at the cutting edge: the agency of the subject is feminine, excessive, and decadent, whereas the agency in Kanye’s world, and the broader mainstream culture, is masculine, restricted, and austere. This is actually just spiritual economics.

I could also argue here that Stark’s work “celebrates” the human form under fossil fuel capitalism. Though she herself is not obese, or likely even overweight (her BMI looks about normal, maybe close to overweight, if I want to overestimate); I notice that she works with obese and undeniably fat people. Personally, I tend to err on the side of believing that obesity is, in fact, related to fossil fuel culture. I don’t want to delve too deeply into this, because I honestly just wanted to type about myself… But merely to quickly sum up: One of petroleum’s deepest values is organic inertia and mechanical speed (airplanes, cars, computers), in addition to cheap production (fertilizers, single use plastics, mass manufacturing). The convenience of fossil fuel capitalism allows for a formerly unimaginably sedentary life, all while subsidizing an overabundance of garbage, both agriculturally, spiritually, and materially. This means, simply, that we move less, we do less physical labor, and our food is less nutritious. Obviously a recipe for weight gain, but, let me also come out and admit this: I, also, like fat. I prefer “thick” and “fat” women. I like all types of men, but it is the most animalistic to me when a man is incredibly hard (in all ways) and athletic or muscular, and his female counterpart is plush, wavy, and soft. I love the contrast of masculine harshness with feminine softness, and not in the metaphysical sense. I like a physically hard man and a physically fat woman. Maybe because I’m sort of fat myself, so I sexualize softness, but whatever the reason, this is how I feel

Stark’s work clearly loves the human beings of our contemporary world, and whether or not we have come into existence because of fossil fuel capitalism, the fact remains that we are all alive, and therefore, are meant to exist as we currently do. Therefore, wise jury of my dear readers, it is morally correct to love and admire people for who they are, and to appreciate their forms as they are, no matter how or why those forms have taken such shape. In any case, being as that I’m quite tired, and would like to close this subject off for now, I just want to tie into the fact that, not only is allowing feminine-associations to have agency disallowed in our culture, but fat will always be associated to the poor and “surplus” humanity, which, I think I touched on in a previous post: Human Financial Product.

It could maybe even be said that Stark’s work is a mere continuation in the cumcore trend, on the high end of it. This is perhaps more likely, but given that she uses fat as a medium, which means she is using oil as a medium, I do think it’s somehow different because she uses the fat to mold… Maybe I’m a bit tired & will have to come back.

I must sleep. A final point about myself. I love my period, and I’m so scared of the day it leaves me. To share my first period story, I was actually riding a horse in Arizona with my cousin. The day earlier, I nearly blacked out from heatstroke after riding all afternoon. The next day, or maybe it was the same day, it was quite a long time ago, after I hopped off that horse, I realized that I was bleeding. At first, I didn’t want to tell anyone, because to me, it was giving me the terrible impression that the horse had sex with me HAHAHAH, I mean honestly, you grow up and everyone is obsessed with hymens and bleeding and keeping everything intact, and you’re told that the first time you have sex, you’ll bleed. Well, it’s a funny story, much like how I lost my virginity to my gay best friend while he was watching gay porn. THE POINT, omg. Is that… well!! I’m 33!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m deteriorating! I should pump myself up with filler and get my body cut open and work hard on shaping it to conform to societal expectations. There is something deeply romantic about annihilating yourself for the masses, even if it’s for your own vanity too, if you can meet the standard ideal, you can become untouchable. However, that’s not the kind of romance I like. I like the pollution. I have envy of popstars who jump into a sea of thousands of their adoring fans, with hundreds of hands swiping across their sweating bodies. Though, of course, I want to remain attractive even on my deathbed, so I’ll be sure to do my maximum to remain fuckable until Satan takes his final turn at my flesh…. Oh! I also forgot to mention that I love God again, for you.

I had a dream the other night, where I watched maybe ten different groups or couples enter this town, each with their own unique scenario, but all of them entering the town for friendship and love. One by one, they ended up trapped there, at first hopeful that they’d escape, then terrorized and panicked, dejectedly searching for their lost partner and friends. It wasn’t until they got lost, did they notice how everyone else in the street was also desperately searching for someone. Initially, no one even really noticed anyone else, and the passersby all seemed like average pedesterians going along their normal lives. But once they looked, the missing hollowness was the only thing they could see. All of the billboards and graffiti tags were “HAVE YOU SEEN XYZ?” “I’m looking for my friend (name) (description),” etc. As the individuals woke up to the realization that no one could escape this village, and that everyone in it was condemned to ceaselessly search, I slowly began to wake up myself, and was terribly heartbroken at their situation, and I could tell that this village was a hell on earth, literally, that it was earth, and spiritually, that it is hell. Though I love Satan in the same way God does, I wanted nothing more than God to protect those fucking people, who entered that village full of hope and warmth, wanting to cheer on their friends, or meet a lover, etc. Someone needs to protect humanity from our own naivety! And that’s why I hope God watches over all of you, because you need it, and it’s my honor to keep the devil all to myself, because I’m so altruistic and sweet, actually…. and because I love you so so much!

! .⋆ just realized that I didn’t get to type about the rot & deteroriation… I promise, hopefully, to be back in a few days to add more to this idea. Thank you so much for reading to this point if you did!