How to live in a mall. (See also: Roofman.)
Single units of writing—including stories, poems and essays.
“Once liberation reached a point of adequate success, however, sex was unconscionably easy to liberate further, as commerce discovered it had a new means of entry into private life and threw its weight behind the new values. What in fact was occurring was liberalization by forces of commercial transaction, as they entered to expand and coordinate the new field of exchange. Left-wing ideas of free love, the nonsinfulness of the body, womens equality of dignity, intelligence, and capability, had been hard-pressed to find adequate standing before—and they are still in trouble, constantly worn away. Whereas incitement to sex, ubiquitous sexual display, sinfulness redefined as the unconditioned, unexercised, and unaroused body, and a new shamefulness for anyone who manifests a nonsexuality or, worst of all, willful sexlessness—that was easy.”
I’m glad someone saved this short-lived blog. Related: Stop Peter Bjorn and John.
While this isn’t a ‘simple’ crime—along the lines of stealing a basketball—I think the author makes a compelling case that this was a case of mere fantasy that snowballed into disaster. This is possibly the most salacious link in this directory, almost a piece with the New Yorker article “The Voyeur’s Motel”, which became an entire scene of drama following its publication—both exposés dive headlong into two opposing sides of male sexuality. (However, both of these men are the same: both are stealthy and rapacious pursuants.)
Oh and wouldn’t you say the interrogators of these cases—the police and journalist figures in these articles—are far more complex and devilish than their subjects??
The impossible leaping skill of this urban legend (ripped from the penny dreadfuls of the Victorian age) had such a technological flare. Ah, the idea that an inventor-cobbler with a gas-powered dental retainer could inspire demonic fear. His attacks lasted a century! (Also at Wikipedia.)
Who was sending plastic Garfield telephones up the Iroise coast for 35 years?
Well, for a 72-year-old, he’d be a six. Six or seven. So he’s good. He’s a good player. He’s among our best presidents ever to play golf. But he wants the world to think he’s fantastic.
I think the best lies are the ones we all get to be in on.
Prompts and tips for a gamemaster, to quest in an evening. Related: Battle royale rules for Pathfinder.
A thorough guide of how to master Uwe Rosenberg’s classic economic game Agricola.
I like that this is so prescriptive. You may not use the shorthand here, but I’ve found the overall advice sound. This is a terrible admission, but I do this for novels. I haven’t read it till I’ve read it twice.
The extreme encounters of a lesbian cable tech. I like this diary because, despite the pulpy tone and the moments of horror, I don’t sense any misanthropy from the writer. This is just how people are. (Similar: Naming the Unspoken Thing, a window into SF’s underground clambakes.)
“Friend every poet you can on Facebook, goodreads.com, porn sites—” Jim Behrle’s gentle rant on self-promotion, from a poet’s view. A realization that Jewel is the all-eclipsing poet of the now. Reminiscent of Bill Hicks’ New Kids bit. (A different perspective, but related: “How Do We Write Now?” by Patricia Lockwood.)
I love this—maybe we’re all anarchists! (By way of ‘direct action’.) Well, I’ll take any window I can get into the underground, into transformative and/or fruitless movements—I have no clue what’s going to happen next, but I am glad I found about the Clandestine Insurgent Rebel Clown Army. It’s like free v-bucks for me. (See also: The Anarchist Library.)
Right, okay—a link to The New Yorker? What can I say—if a story gets to me, then what can I do? This has a strong scent of this society of ours. I felt a similar ding! ding! reading George Saunders’ “Sea Oak”. I’m not looking down on society here—I absolutely revel in it. I think I get to be part of this, too.
I feel like this started the “haunted game cartridge” creepypastas. But I’m not a connoisseur. If not, whatever, I like it.
I can’t explain it, but I want to make a little LEGO scene of this poetry reading. It’s like fashion and sexuality make us into archetypes.
The poetry written by a 24-year-old Chinese tech laborer during the few years before his suicide. I find these compelling and it is interesting to think of this poetry disseminated by the devices assembled by these workers. (See also: this doc of poems translated to English and Spanish.)
This whole blog is very interesting to me. It is mostly links and essays. But some things are not comprehensible—in a good way.
I would also love to hear Kanye’s poem about McDonald’s read in “slam” style.
A ritual for you, your solarpunk friends and your computers and your ethernet cables too and some HTML written on looseleaf scattered around the floor. Yes, that’ll do it. Fine fine. Ok, coolguy.website.
‘My 6-year-old daughter sees things other people don’t. “Skitter scatters,” ghosts, auras. She just started school and there’s something in the lunchroom only she can see, and this one makes her nervous.’
There are many routes into this topic—however, I enjoy the Brain Pickings blog and wanted a reason to link to it somewhere in here. See also the footage of John Smith at his machine.