December 2011
16 posts
And, content with what he’d seen, ready to re-enter the world of lips and shouting and all kinds of crazy, buttonless ways of ‘liking’ things, the blogger shut his laptop, paused, and then beat himself to death with it.
Pitches for New Museums
1) The Interactive Museum of Social Media: Replica suburban bathrooms for mirror pics and accidentally leaked nudes; stables of cats for use with a hi-tech gif/meme station; guides trained to act as old friends and ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, trying to “reconnect” with museum patrons who have long since moved on; replica living rooms where people can “do” things (listen to...
With one of my biggest fears re: texting girls being their reading those pathetic texts aloud to roomfuls of laughing strangers, and oh man someone is doing that right now to some poor dude, and I am just one of many laughing strangers, all sadness is confirmed.
Two attractive young people are sitting on the beach, smoking thin cigarettes. The boy is wearing hip sunglasses and has beautiful blue eyes. The girl has long, straight blonde hair and might be your favorite band’s drummer. The girl says to the boy: What do you think it’s like? And the boy says: What? And the girl points. Further down the beach a fat man in a torn shirt is helping his...
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2012 Hype Predictions
A new artist named $teve’s club anthem about drinking and also having fun and believing in yourself will be inescapable for two months, until an enterprising journalist uncovers his dark past: It will be revealed that before $teve was $teve he was ‘Steve,’ second-string member of the Mexican Summer roster who in ‘09 released an album of hazy, introspective indie-folk...
The Writing on the Stalls in the Library's...
“I jerk off in this stall…seriously.”
There is, next to this brave confession, a small arrow pointing to the words “me too!” These words, it should be noted, are in the same handwriting as the initial confession, meaning I guess that whoever outed themselves as the kind of person who not only masturbates in public but also makes sure to do it under the grossest...
Listen I’ll delete this in a minute but I just want to say that I’m among a sizable bunch of undergrads watching some syndicated Seinfeld (you can lift up your dropped jaw now, I’m done with the fireworks) and in the episode we’re watching a girl George has somehow convinced to date him asked “so do you wanna come up for some coffee?” and he was like “oh,...
James Franco Wrote Something For the Paris Review...
Hiring James Franco to write for your publication is essentially like posting a list of the twenty-five silliest cat pictures of all time—a gleeful, fuck-you admission that quality’s not really important, because think of the pageviews! And what a dehumanizing term, pageviews: You’re not attracting readers, you’re attracting numbers, and in James Franco’s case...
Some Thoughts on Headphones
1.
Last night, talking to a friend who just completed an MA in literature and now works in a Barnes and Noble, I articulated what might be my biggest fear: that I am unable to think properly, because my brain is broken. I imagine my friend and his professors and the critics they read and the friends those critics hold forth with in panels and professors’ lounges starting with one clean pure...
The Three Women on the Phone Outside of the...
#1: She is telling her friend that this is the last straw, and that she needs to calm down, and that she will not stand for this anymore.
#2: She’s pirouetting, punctuating long streams of Spanish with solo chest bumps, little kicks, odd English slang (“dude!” “duh!”). Spanish was my father’s first language, and when his Jewish Mexican family comes in from...
Backleftlitz Winter Mix '11
Artwork:
(That above says ‘CD Freckles’ by the way. Realized it was dumb before I was even finished writing it, but I only had one blank CD. Also if you can’t read my handwriting I’ve typed this all up under the ‘Read More.’)
This Mix CD Might Be Useful As:
Other Notes:
Track List:
1) “Carolyn’s Fingers”—Cocteau Twins
2)...
I am writing this in the library at three in the afternoon with the intention of scheduling it to post a one am, which means that as you read these words I might be dead or making eye contact with an exotic stranger (and not even like saying anything, just letting that small charged moment be enough) or graffiting “backleftlitz” on the sides of tall buildings or setting off fireworks...
You know, as someone who reads a lot of music criticism (and occasionally writes it but don’t worry I’d never burden you guys with links to that stuff) and who also is an alive person dealing with alive-person problems, it feels like it’s getting harder and harder to listen to music without trying to analyze its lyrics or place it in some context or use it to illustrate some...
Remastering
Your grandfather has died after suffering six strokes in three years, and you’ve returned to Queens to help your parents sort through his earthly possessions and figure out what to donate to the Salvation Army and what to throw away and what you can maybe bring back to decorate your alarmingly spare Boston apartment with. In the attic you open a copy of Coping with the Death of Your Spouse...
My younger brother said "listen to this song,...
and I saw men with chin-straps rhythmically rubbing their genitals against the backsides of girls rolling on powdered ecstasy purchased from roommates’ younger brothers (they only deal now, and occasionally pop an Oxy when the going gets tough); saw the men swivel these girls around and assault them with tongues made geographic from nights spent with friends, smoking (allegedly) medicinal...