Post-Nuclear, Post Human, Post-Humane

Hi. My name is Jane. I have the worst of intentions. A trash queen, I rot in the ground, while you walk over my grave in 7'' stilettos. You apply each ounce of your foundation to your face, while the floor beneath you creaks and cracks. I plan on disrupting everything, because you've had it easy. You've been spoiled with pride, and with cultural amnesia. Always forgetting where you came from, what your history is, but you can recite any Miley Cyrus song at the drop of a wig.


You subscribe to mundane activities provided for you. Your unimaginative world continues to hold you back, it blinds you, all while shaping you. You are tethered to the word, and the word is compulsion.

I am here to offer you something. I cannot spoon feed you, you can only feed yourselves. I'm a million different things. What labels will you mark me with? I'm your pig in a petticoat, your clown with a frown, your worst nightmare and your best friend.




The vehicle I call my body will never be important. For the 1000 looks you compulsively turn out, all the money, all the thought behind your 'fierce' fleeting look...I will turn out trash with a personality, a mind of it's own. I'm not pretty, I'm critical. Anyone can be beautiful these days, anyone. But when I walk into a room, I choose to disrupt, and engage. I'm on self-destruct whether you like it or not.



I'm exposing film. I'm a growing reality of delusion. A temporary fix for the hole you keep digging, just like you're supposed to. 1-2-3, force out that smile.


Hi, I'm Jane. I believe most of you have stopped thinking. Critical thought is a lost art. Now, you can recite every Lady Gaga lyric, while planning out your "look" for the evening. Your hopes to get fucked are almost as severe as your hope for a drink ticket. Most of you feel hopeless and disposable. That's because most of you are.


Harvey Milk never wanted to be hetero-normative. Harvey Milk never wanted gay marriage.


I'm here to save you. I'm here to promote you. I've got no regrets, only solutions. I'll show you the way. Give me your lip gloss, your glitter, and your ideas. I plan to rip you off, sell you, trash you and worship you. You'll love it, need it, and I'll be standing behind you the entire time. JUMP!