A One Minute Person

truly is a beautiful masterpiece of modern art that an online community largely fueled by fandom and media analysis has come full circle into creating a detailed and thorough pastiche, via gifsets and faux analysis essays and letterboxd reviews and more, of a "forgotten 1970s film classic" that does not actually exist. Goncharov (1973) (the memetic phenomenon) has quickly become one of the most biting statements about the current state of art and its consumption. A work of art that exists not in and of itself, but as a discussion of itself. an analysis of itself. An appreciation of itself. pure unadulterated simulacrum.

D'entre totes les estrelles,

em sabia la més freda

i llunyana.

Les mans tapaven el blanc del cel

i m'encongien en un mar negre

「just llavors vaig veure més mans tapant el mateix sol– milers de mans,

cadascuna la més singular

i més llunyana i més freda.」

Quin joc de llums més únic,

el veure que algú sent el mateix que tu,

i que tot i que siguis a anys llum de distància

i que no el puguis abraçar,

encara li puguis dir:

"vols ser amic meu?"

I wasn’t tripping! There’s a game with the exact concept of op in which you and a friend have to fight over who has the tallest tower using magic cards. I played this a lot as a kid and after making the deepest search of one (1) google search, i found it: the name’s Castlewars, and it’s on Kongregate.

ES6 will feature a quest featuring two wizards who live in opposing towers who both hate each other because the others tower is taller and they keep using magic to make their own taller. You can solve their issue in several ways. By killing one or both of them, or you can blow up both of their wizard towers so that nobody has the tallest. Or you can join in on their pettiness and build your own very tall wizard tower.

No poem

No poem can do this right.

I promise you I'm trying,

but how can these words tell you

that there's so many feelings

where words won't fit in.

Love falls short

and the word pain is too little

for this strange hunger I have

when I can't eat your lips.

It's not that I can't sleep,

or that part of me is still watching the sunset;

it's that I am wandering around it

in circles

and that no poet can point at it

without . missing

my hearing has been aided and holy shit is this how you guys hear all the time

UHMMM THERE *IS*??? It's called Rowing with the Wind (1988). Iirc there's another one called Gothic (1986) but I haven't watched that one.

when most people see frankenstein stuff in stores during halloween season they’re totally normal about it. but when i see frankenstein stuff in the stores i get up on the shelves and start howling because i know that little green dude is the direct product of an angsty goth teenager writing highly intellectual prose in imitation of her historical philosopher parents while her groupie sister is being impregnated by lord byron in the next room after stalking him across the continent after his divorce and her boyfriend percy is tripping balls on his kidney disease medicine (opium) and hallucinating dead naked women while trying to avoid polidori the 20 y/o doctor who challenged him to a duel (also the inventor of the first vampire novel in the english language after a story he stole from byron told that very same night but made gayer out of revenge even thoug-

vegans make peace with honey

no shut up do it

Aquesta setmana he estat pensant en com t'estimo.

Dir que t'estimo molt és quantificar-ho,

i els números no se'm donen gaire bé.

(però t'estimo molt)

Dir que t'estimo com els gats a les papallones és infantil

(tot i que dec ser un nen per tu)

Que t'estimo com el coixí del meu llit no seria cert

perquè no vull dormir;

vull passar la nit murmurant secrets dolços.

Dir que t'estimo com l'olor de les flors és molt cursi

(però a vegades soc una cursi,

i per cert, les magnòlies et quedarien molt bé)

Potser

com l'olor d'humit o

com el so de la pluja que canten les fulles,

com els ulls plorosos quan s'acosten al foc,

com la rosa a les espines i com les espines a la sang,

com un dolor plaent

(el meu dolor)

o simplement

com jo a tu

                                         és com t'estimo.

the whole “i used to be a teen who hated authority only to grow up to become the authority that hates teens” is a bad bad thing that practically every other generation has fallen into and we all need to make an extremely conscious effort not to repeat the fucking pattern