'Yvost'
Interview by: Hannah Green
Illustrations by: Isabel Mitchelson


i found the pretentious part of this in my phone and felt ashamed so reframing it to make myself the clever protagonist calling out a pseudo intellectual dummy
alt title
wow socrates u sure do have it
—
he said
u spend ur first fifteen years learning 2 become a human
n ur next fifteen years coming 2 terms w the fact that ur just a human
i said
what
he said
that sounded better in my head
a poem by yvost
"The interview begins
Hannah from Helicon asks me how long i have been writing 4 n the answer is 4 as long as i can remember provided u include mandatory tasks in english classes (i do, they r still creative n valuable)
in terms of writing 4 reasons not explicitly obvious uhhhh intermittently 4 like 3/4 years. i do get disheartened n stop especially when i read my old work. sometimes i read things i wrote previously n it seems so much better than my present output n i get deeply sad n stop. so sorry if i become defunct shortly after this i’m not v consistent"
i wrote a whole ass essay about this and it was a lot more cogent but i wanna try poetry sorry
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wowsers what a sweet inheritance thanks skip
—
my grandma my granddad no
my grandpeople
never knew them
i mean that isnt to say i never met them. i met them
i just don’t remember. i was very young no
i just dont know the me that met them
this is all to say
whenever one of the grandpeople died
my parents cried, a lot
like a lot
so that would imply they were pretty good
i mean i mighta hated them but no
thru the empathy of grief
look, the calculation is as follows:
my tears like my parents
n my parents tears like my grandpeople
ergo
i miss them
a poem by yvost
"Hannah from Helicon asks me what impels me 2 write n first off i gotta congratulate her for using a cool word. i didnt know that one. the answer is i don’t know but probably its because i think i have something unique n interesting to contribute to the cultural canon. obviously this is not the case n narcissism is a more likely root cause. idk idk what impels u 2 write? sincerely. maybe i want 2 be famous but not famous but like writer famous, where ur acknowledged 4 ur craft n given lots of money but ultimately left alone. there r so many able humans n a lot of the time writers r writers bc privilege n circumstance has allowed them a voice, its not like our brains r more densely connected. i think if u think about this kind of question for 2 long u will get sad."

i still copped some some shoes tho. welcome 2 complicity
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glorious
we re walking thru Addis Ababa n its extremely bright
i mean your average Addis Ababian probably would not be taken aback by the amount of sun in the sky and i, like most of my european brethren, have an usual n kinda discomfiting complete w/r/t being perceived as a tourist so i would like to restate my initial declaration
we re walking thru Addis Ababa n its an average day 4 Addis Ababa
im not Addis Ababian exactly but i feel like they get me, u know
irrespective of the fact i am paying most Addis Ababians i am directly interacting with comparatively vast amounts of money to get me, u know
anyway we re in the districts w the fashion stores
and im looking in thru the displays n there r these
vast ivory mannequins
7 ft tall perfect proportions
looming overhead
n its like r u guys (im addressing the reader n myself n all other ivory mannequins) even trying to be subtle w this stuff
a poem by yvost
"Hannah from Helicon asks me about about my inspirations n okay so i love qs re: inspo bc we as persons we just tumble out of a womb n consequently ping pong round life based on the incidents of what we encounter on the way out. that is 2 say we r fundamentally a sum of our influences n absolutely nothing else, n 2 describe anything or anyone as original would be as to describe a gin n tonic as fundamentally original as opposed to being the consequence of gin encountering tonic. i am rambling i hope this makes one unit of sense. UNFORTUNATELY i am not supa willing to discuss influence bc i dont read v much n 2 construct a response of any worth/length i would have to list every thing id read 4 like the last 2 years n i would b immediately identifiable. that said yvost as an artistic identity can def be traced to Weird Twitter a la @dril n @333333333433333 n idk idk that poem where the cat believes themselves 2 b a person n is upset that they r not growing or able to talk or whatever. have u read that i rlly like it? there is also a poem where a boy arms wrestles his papa and is upset when one day he wins. i think about that a lot. im sorry there isnt a strong or obvious literary foundation to this project."

look the alt title for this one is gonna be ‘sent from my iphone’ but that’s the worst shit ever so i’m just prepping you for it here
alt title
sent from my iphone
she bursts into my room with two daggers
n she’s clutching all these papers under her left arm
but i think its pretty reasonable 4 my curiosity 2 be more piqued by the former
based on how unusual it is 4 a person to brandish daggers in ur room
she says its time to die
n i’m like
ur really phoning it in w this dialogue
u dont understand
(w increasing urgency)
i did my due diligence
then she throws the bundle of papers @ me n i’m obviously pissed bc papercuts
but in retrospect its better than the knives
and hot damn she’s got all this evidence
look. literally all our ancestors have done, sum total, more badness than goodness
its all murder n hatred n just general incivility
based on extrapolation n the availability of new instruments 4 measuring sum badness
we should...
y’know
u can’t see this bit but she gestured to the knives
i chuckle n say
hey
its a worrying trend
but lets not be hasty
she agrees
sometimes stress can make a person behave erratically
btw do u like my new jeans
a poem by yvost
"Hannah from Helicon asks me about yvost as an identity marker n i feel embarrassed. if i might go off sis i would like to say that a lot of things we do as people are inherently quite ‘’’lame’’’ as per the socially defined notion of lameness. like trying 2 make friends n presenting ourselves as desirable n most definitely creating art. we exert a lot of effort on pretending not to exert effort in these areas. maybe i would do a reveal or w/e if it seemed socially advantageous enough if we re being cynical about the whole ordeal. anyway i was rlly stung when Hannah from Helicon described yvost as a persona bc that implicates the human mind behind the project which in turns makes the reader consider the flesh n blood n acne that define a life. we like to disassociate art from people bc dumbass romantics have tried 2 frame it as something otherworldly n i think that has created an insurmountable tension between acknowledging something as impactful n then acknowledging that a person who breathes n cums n shits did the thing u like. it takes away from it somehow. i am yvost n yvost doesnt brush their teeth or fuck or dream or cry yvost is manifested by their words on the page."
in which i am embarrassed twice over bc the top i bought wasnt even that nice NO ONE asked me where i got it
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(not in prison)
its me n im calling in a bomb threat to ur favourite company
ur products r evil u r sick exploiters n ur all gonna pay
etc
i said a lot of stuff other stuff too it was a tough day
n im shaking so hard n im like is this even a good idea
anyway nothing happened 2 me
but they took the audio from that call
n added like a kids voice saying ‘gnarly’ where all the hate was
gnarly
that word from the 90s
ur products r GNARLY u r GNARLY n ur all gonna pay LESS @ OUR SUMMER SALE
i guess some1 from their marketing dept had a masterstroke
cause they released it as like part of a guerrilla marketing campaign
n it actually did rlly well
it was so fucking stupid
tbh some of the stuff was rlly cheap so i did check them out that august
a poem by yvost
"Hannah from Helicon asks me about formatting. i wish my reaction was less cynical n horrible but i think this formatting is my mask. not specifically as a way o concealing identity but as a way of masking a limited understanding of canon n form n the magical things like iambic pentameter. i can be sneaky under the auspice of art but rlly there is a lack of substance. its like how a lot of the impressionist style was derived from painting speedily n broadly except instead of beautiful colours n new perspectives im creating typos n poorly constructed pieces."

golly gosh yvost youve really gone too far this time
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opaque humans
not to be really crass but do you ever wonder if the reason we want so badly to be penetrated/penetrating humans we love dearly is an innate n indescribable longing to know them, the crude effort of an animal logic that hungers for what’s inside but can never be exposed
we tiptoe in with tongue n touch n such n this usually coincides w an iota of revealing conversation, further reinforcing such illogical connections inside our own opaque forms
then we go so sorry deeper n you learn more but one can only go so far n know so much. a little bit redundant to say but we don’t even know ourselves really, truly
we know all the stuff that makes a person pant n sweat n all the less appetising functions r rigged up inside that body of theirs so i reckon some irrational subconscious reasoning tells us gee whiz, if u get up in there u can figure out what their hopes n fears really r n whether they actually love u back n what they really think about lars von trier
but yeah u can’t bc they dont even know n then youre just there lying next to the person youre desperate to know n who is probably desperate to know you back n youve just plundered their very depths n come up empty n what is even the point of being alive
alt theory: bumping erogenous zones feels good as hell man. lmk ur thoughts in the comments
a poem by yvost
"the alt title thing is fun. that is all i have to say w/r/t that. also i love aesth. and wanna make sure it all comes together.
yvost is a project that is developing fast fast fast, so naturally u would notice distinctions between pieces. im excited to see yvost grow n become a more defined piece but rn i am just putting words on paper. the one rule is NO CAPITALISATION. i made a joke.
i took some valium b4 writing this i am sorry if it is typo heavy or has hurt the #####brand. i think an aspect of yvost as i am understanding it is a dis-attached idgaf honesty but i have become nervous by virtue of ur eyes (Hannah from Helicon) on me."
see someone who knew how poetic imagery etc functioned would have woven the the fact that they had to wear literal goose feet on their clothes into the poem n it would have been substantially better. i have not done that. but i am making reference 2 it in the title to let u know that the notion passed thru my mind. okay enjoy
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goose feet
dude shut up u need to hear this
it fucked me now u get the honour
so
pause 4 effect
there were these people in medieval europe called cagots n everyone hated their guts n know one knows why
like it wasnt even obvious at the time
it was just:
cagots r not for us no thank u
it wrecked me twofold bc
they werent even a specific colour or in love w a less vogue god
it was just
we dont hang w them
why??????
it doesnt matter why shut up ur acting like a cagot
i felt pretty ashamed then bc its not like colour god etc etc would validate fucking over an entire group of ppl anyhow
so my bad for that one
i dont know if ull agree w my assessment here but
it reinforced (2 me) that nothing fucking matters n all our opinions are baseless
bc 300 years ago i would have been savagely beating a cagot
probs feeling woke as hell about it 2
just makes a lot of sense to cause this human pain
its as tho we re randomly generated n no one is responsible 4 anything
that said try 2 be polite wherever possible itll make the next coupla decades easier
a poem by yvost
postscript n apology: the wikipedia article is actually really interesting once you get past the horror. seriously like go check it out u can spend a good afternoon there. id also like to say that it is broadly equivalent to the indian caste system n at least part of my fascination comes from the fact it’s a european variant of that concept. we have a troubling tendency where we re vastly more attached to things we can relate to. in this case that relatability is sourced from race which is extremely icky, so sorry. hot take: humans are inherently bad. hot take humans is a good ass band name snap that shit up quick
hey its been a while! u want 2 hang out?
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busy being
living in the present is actually bad. its also something ppl should stop telling u 2 strive 2 do bc its literally unavoidable n also hellish. so basically
the other day i was sad n i forgot that happiness was a thing. i mean that isnt to say i didnt laugh or smile or w/e but when i did respond in such a manner it was more reflex than any indication of broader positive feelings. n hey whales breach their ocean homes on occasion but we dont say they sometimes fly. what im saying is that when i feel sad, the entire history of me is swiftly rewritten n i have never felt true sustained joy, no sir not once.
fortunately the inverse is also true
n on those days all the misery was just an act, grumpy toddler, i am blessed n infinitely fortunate. how could i know real upset? i turn 2 my past n bow in its direction, grateful 4 my episode of brief internal misfortune, now i can rlly appreciate life 4 what it is.
beautiful. im excited to live!!
then return 2 bein upset n whew boy the revisionists in my brain r bk at it again. i traipse along cursing myself 4 that manic episode back there, can u the reader forget i was behaving in such a way? embarrassing, fuck. dont talk @ me like im fun 2 be around that was just a blip. all joy is temporal oh christ. i have 2 stay alive however so i will endeavour 2 get by, finding happiness in the little things like a fucking bottom feeder.
im just asking for balance damnit. give me some smooth middle ground. maybe its about figuring about the scope that defines ur understanding of the present. if i rationalise the facts of my life more generally things r pretty good, that should be the axis which contentment is defined along no??? however some days i wake up n tell my brain that i have to do an essay instead of going 2 a social place n now all my childhood memories have demons in them.
a poem by yvost