Thursday, May 23, 2013
(Source: coolatheist, via theskinnytaste)
Thursday, May 23, 2013
(Source: coolatheist, via theskinnytaste)
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Robot knocks down every bowling pin on its first throw. In cold, metallic voice: “I guess you could call that…a drone strike.”
Obama, now in his fifth consecutive term, sits in a dark corner of the DARPA test bowling alley and takes a long vape from his e-cigar. He grins almost unnoticeably.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
placeholderforthetimebeing:
Suck my dick
What Sam was aiming to communicate with this ostensibly simple text post is difficult to determine concretely. Outwardly, the sentiment is hostile, dysphemistic, and marked by an irreverent affirmation of superiority. But there is deeper meaning here that we wish to explore.
Beginning with “Re:”, he immediately conjures the image of an email subject line—this is no accident—we are inclined to examine the rest of this message in a technological context. The medium itself (microblog), of course, can not be divorced from technology. And “The artistic youth”, to whom this post is addressed, indeed publish their portfolios on the Internet, network online, discover other artists and inspiration online, and some visual artists create their work using nothing but computers.
So this post is delivered via technology (blog) and pays homage to another form of modern technological communication (email). It simultaneously denounces the young (under 40?) artists who have embraced the Internet as a source of exhibition, inspiration, creation, experimentation, and networking.
Consider the Greek term techne. The simple translation of techne is art or craft. Techne can be applied practically—perhaps when it is craft, like the engineering of technology, or theoretically/aesthetically—when it is art or philosophy.
In his ethnography Coming of Age in Second Life, anthropologist Tom Boellstorff describes someone engaging in techne as “the virtual human”:
Drawing upon the work of a range of scholars of technology and society, I will develop a theory…of the person who engages in techne not just as homo faber (“man the maker”) or homo ludens (“man the player”), but above all as homo cyber. The human online, the virtual human. (25)
In this post, Sam is utilizing techne as Boellstorff says—as a virtual human his opinions are shared via the Internet with other virtual humans. (While it has no 3D world as Second Life does, Tumblr is a self-contained virtual universe.) Those young artists, too, are homo cybers—virtual humans practicing their craft and sharing it online.
Both Sam and the artists he calls out engage in techne—they craft. Techne encompasses art and technology—the technological threads running through the short text post are only slightly more apparent than the artistic ones. The post itself is art. It is social criticism boiled down to a single carnal, visceral command: “Suck my dick”. The subtle humor of the dichotomy between the email-esque formality of the title and the crassness of the message should not be overlooked—it is one of the hallmarks of Sam’s posts, but, more importantly, it is a telling nuance that the harshness of the message may be in jest.
If Sam is practicing techne the same way the young artists are—if his post is art—then maybe the vitriol is meta-ironic. The irony makes the post artistic, which makes the message self-referential.
(Source: placeholderforthetimebeing)
Thursday, May 23, 2013
I dreamt grandma died, and, for a moment just before, she looked young again; I kissed her face. Will she be carried to the sky by a hundred thousand gypsy moths?
Thursday, May 23, 2013
When boys of the Shan tribe undergo the ritual “Poi Sang Long”, the focal point lies in, what in the Western world would be described as, “feminine values”. They are dressed up in bright colours and adorned with make-up. The aim is to mimic the young Prince Siddhartha before he became Lord Buddha. Even though the purpose of the ritual is to show that the boys are on their way to become mature and responsible men, it is loaded with aesthetic values and free from any physical trials. This is what sets it apart from other typical male rituals. By Ken Bamberg
(via girlsgetbusyzine)
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Ahem, I wasn’t courting her or anything—perhaps I shouldn’t have called this person a date. It was actually my former pen-pal, but that seemed like too much unnecessary information.
Alternate answer:
Ahem, by “date” I meant the fruit. I always bring a date to the movies to eat bc the theater food is too expensive.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
One time I went to see Fantastic Mr. Fox. The audience was completely quiet and immersed in the pre-movie trailers—to the point where they even seemed annoyed as my date and I made our way to two of the last few open seats in the middle of a row. We sat down and realized after a couple minutes that this was somehow the wrong theater, the wrong movie, and had to excuse ourselves past the now doubly-mad audience members one more time.
Turned out that we had walked in on a private screening of Brothers that was well underway.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
if there are any teens out there who want me to buy alcohol for them in exchange for teaching me the cutting-edge lingo, that would be righteous
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
If I ever tell you I’m going to sleep and then you see me posting or liking things online for about an hour immediately after that, I promise I wasn’t lying to you, I’m just bad at going to sleep and it is usually a long process that begins with disengaging from any sort of immediate contact with people (chats, for example) and ends when everything on my screen is blurry and I’m hallucinating plot points I haven’t written yet
(via pavlovs-pussy)
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
perhaps the first time i’ve washed my hands to procrastinate from doing something
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
you’re ever wanking and like, not feeling it, but then keep trying and feel yr cock losing enthusiasm and you just stop, dick in hand, just staring, hoping someone would walk in to console you
oh god the basturmating thousand-yard stare