Pinned
on siblings and divergent memories (and dog pounds and lug wrenches, and how we'll never return to the garden)
part 1
Revolutinary Girl Utena (1997) // Succession (2018-2023) // You Are Jeff, Richard Siken // Shared memories and the problems they cause, The Guardian // What the Writer Meant, Hop Along // Happy to See Me, Hop Along
imagine you are a gay man in your 60s and you've been in the military most of your life so you've never been free to be yourself or to seek out people like you and as a result you're now elderly and alone and you've spent a lifetime betraying yourself and you've never been loved and you get experimental brain surgery to cope with this and then one day you learn that the innocent child version of yourself who knows nothing of your isolation or your sins fell in love with another man and the man he loved was killed for pursuing that relationship and then your other self is also killed presumably for the same reason but you meet the other version of the man he loved and he's married but he wants to get to know you and you don't know him but you have some inextricable connection, something is pulling you towards him and you know you shouldn't trust him but you do and you just don't want to be alone and his husband is kind of a dick so you follow that feeling and it leads you right into a trap he set for you and it turns out that he was just manipulating you all along, to make you let your guard down, and you fell for it because there's a part of you that wants to put your life in his hands and so you do and he takes you to a train station and tells you to get as far away from here as you possibly can, he's saving you perhaps even at the cost of his own life and you think maybe you weren't entirely wrong about trusting him so you tell him you want him and he doesn't deny he wants you back, you tell him you're ready to be loved by him and you don't even know what that means but you keep saying it over and over because it just feels right, like you've been waiting for this your whole life, and maybe you have, all you know is your life hangs in the balance but for the first time you're not afraid, and maybe his interest in you was under false pretenses but you don't care because there's a part of this that's real and you both know it, he doesn't let you kiss him but he lets you touch his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb and then you walk away and get on the train with your dog going to god knows where and as the tracks whisk you away into the great unknown and the dying light of a cold winter day paints your face you think maybe you have been loved all along. happened my friend irving bailiff
As it was becoming clear the US was headed into trade war territory, I got really interested in farming and the logistics of keeping people fed. I turned that interest into "your cool city needs a food supply," available now!
it's a hack of "i'm sorry did you say street magic" and "Microscope," two gold-standard worldbuilding games. It was polished by Nico MacDougall, who gave me some great advice on how to make this game really align with the themes and ideas I had in the draft.
I've always been a sicko about logistics and agriculture (growing up in the US midwest will do that to you), and I hope this game helps people think about how great a privilege it is to eat.
The God of the Gaps finally worked its way free today. Free from the gaps. Wasn't pretty. Yeah, turns out that the centuries of having to contort itself around the long march of scientific progress had put the poor thing in a real "Amigara Fault" kind of situation
It emerged in the sky above a stretch of the I-495, resembling nothing so much as a 300-foot tall iridescent neural web, ichor dripping from countless ruptures in the raw, distended skin. It convulsed like it was in great pain, hundreds of times a second, and every time it convulsed it shed thousands of whip-thin slivers of unformed divine intent, orphaned syllables from what otherwise would have been coherent blessings and condemnations. Later I asked one of the hazmat guys on-scene what happened if one of those half-formed godly ideas actually managed to connect with a supplicant. They just shook their head, slowly and sadly. Or I think they did. It was one of those models where it's hard to tell what the person inside is actually doing with their head
Anyway it was a pretty spectacle but not a stable one. After a couple of hours the usual clean-up crew rolled in and shot at it from a truck bed with a mothballed howitzer until they'd killed it. Or finished killing it, or maybe just destroyed it, whatever terminology is appropriate. The whole thing collapsed all over the interstate like a mass of cooked spaghetti, just in time for rush hour. Saw photos of it from every angle. News chopper shots taken from above, obviously, but also a bunch of illicit shots taken from ground level by all the usual rubbernecking pilgrims and looky-loos. I mean the quarantine was the usual underfunded hack job, three 19-year-old national guardsman and a spare road cone, you know the drill. About as airtight as a sieve, everyone basically going in and out as they please. A guy I know in Worchester is making a killing selling cuttings from the thing on eBay
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma
this year is our year, guys
if you were trapped in a time loop how many repetitions do you think it would take for you to willingly kill another person, knowing there would be no consequences
I so badly want to ask this question at a party or something where I can set parameters and ask follow up questions gfdgsd people saying "I just can't see myself doing it" I genuinely want to know why. There are no material consequences, there could be temporary benefits, so what would hold you back?
See, I wouldn’t at all, because in situations like this, actually resetting the universe wholesale is doable but has a pretty high overhead and for this kind of dickhead that’d be putting in more than they’d get back, even if they’re filming. So what’s typically happening is that your consciousness is getting keelhauled between alternate instances of your physical substrate in adjacent but slightly desynchronized universes, you know, at a kind of 24 hour diagonal, meaning that the consequences do persist for everyone who isn’t you. Or so I’ve read. And you know, we all have days where we’ve been figuratively or literally chained to the rear bumper of a muscle car and dragged bodily through an area with high foot traffic as a warning, you know, to other potential debtors, so they can see what happens, or so I’ve read. And obviously that’s a rough situation, not conducive to totally clear thinking, that’s what I’ve heard. But I think you’ve got some residual responsibility to ensure your flailing, panicked limbs don’t brain anyone in the crosswalk, even if you’re only briefly intersecting each other’s lives at a perpendicular. Or so they tell me
HE FROM ON HIGH RAVING EVERYMAN
STRANGER-IN-BATHROOM STAIRMASTER
disco elysium-inspired portraits, thoughts below
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I'm, above all else, a tangentgirl. always saying shit like "sidenote," "oh also," "by the way,"
Verily, man, this wizard peace is splendid. I just saw a guy clap his hands together and say "spirits o' field and vineyard" or something along those lines, and every one around him was showered in fresh-baked pastries and loaves, had their cups fill with aged wine, and then were soothed by a warm summer breeze. The minstrels didn't even sing his praises, that's what a joyous time this is. And here I've just been casting calming dew and level 2 aura of cheer. I think I just heard "power word: dessert" two groups over. I gotta get over there.
This is your captain speaking and yeah we’re not landing. I just feel like we’ve got a really good thing up here and I don’t want to ruin it. This is my home and you are my people
We never have to go back
when joan didion said we are fatally drawn to anyone who offers a way out of ourselves
wip of eyeball tapestry,
macky 2023
