~cynic

that last cycle lasted no time at all.

anyway, Mother of Learning is a 2900 page piece of fiction centered mostly around being nice to your little sister. take Kirielle to Cyoria, Zorian. 9/10.

The Perfect Run was a great way to waste my gosh darn time about having a cute marxist-leninist childhood friend hooked on antidepressants privilege. Take Len off SSRIs, Ryan. 5/10.

Project Hail Mary was a fun story about being a servile coward sticking by the only person to ever make friends with you. science-shaped words are interspersed. Take Rocky to Erid, Grace. 6.5/10.

Synecdoche, New York was a great movie about hiding from the world in a labyrinth of your own creation, probably. don't quote me on that i'm no ebert. Take a look at the calendar and see what you've missed, Caden. 9.5/10

Mr. Robot is an awful, no good, real bad television program that suckers you in with promises of 1337kid hijinks, then as soon as your participation is confirmed drops you straight down into a pit of morphine moping, schizophrenia, and political nonsense. Half the computer shit wouldn't work in real life, either. It's pseudo-technical garbage, just with the right buzzwords picked out to make it sound somewhat legitimate to halfwits. I swear to god, there is a several-minute long scene at the start of season three where Elliot looks straight at the screen and decries """them""" while Trump footage plays in the background. What a joke. Take the gayboy over for good, Mr. Robot. there was no rating given here at time of writing. after later convening with the celestials, it was decided to be a round 4/10

Severance was mid ass slop, through which Benjamin Stiller has once again hornswoggled America (read: global culture). Helly a cute, especially with Marquess. Seeing Patricia Arquette old was sad (she was hot in Lost Highway! [pour one out for Davey Lynch, RIP bro]). Do another dance, Milkshake. 4/10

Blindsight was the best fiction I've yet read. P-Zombies don't exist, is my view, the Chinese Room is a tautology brought on circularly by a presupposition of dualism and is practically indistinguishable from a normal person, but that aside Watts did a fairly okay job presenting the idea that consciousness, far beside being the inflection point after which humanity ascended to the point of infinite development, is actually a maladaption. The investigation into a properly foreign alien species was done incredibly. In the beginning were the gametes. And though there was sex, lo, there was no gender, and life was in balance. And God said, “Let there be Sperm”: and some seeds did shrivel in size and grow cheap to make, and they did flood the market. And God said, “Let there be Eggs”: and other seeds were afflicted by a plague of Sperm. And yea, few of them bore fruit, for Sperm brought no food for the zygote, and only the largest Eggs could make up the shortfall. And these grew yet larger in the fullness of time. And God put the Eggs into a womb, and said, “Wait here: for thy bulk has made thee unwieldy, and Sperm must seek thee out in thy chambers. Henceforth shalt thou be fertilized internally.” And it was so. And God said to the gametes, “The fruit of thy fusion may abide in any place and take any shape. It may breathe air or water or the sulphurous muck of hydrothermal vents. But do not forget my one commandment unto you, which has not changed from the beginning of time: spread thy genes.” And thus did Sperm and Egg go into the world. And Sperm said, “I am cheap and plentiful, and if sowed abundantly I will surely fulfill God’s plan. I shall forever seek out new mates and then abandon them when they are with child, for there are many wombs and little time.” But Egg said, “Lo, the burden of procreation weighs heavily upon me. I must carry flesh that is but half mine, gestate and feed it even when it leaves my chamber,” for by now many of Egg’s bodies were warm of blood, and furry besides. “I can have but few children, and must devote myself to those, and protect them at every turn. And I will make Sperm help me, for he got me into this. And though he doth struggle at my side, I shall not let him stray, nor lie with my competitors.” And Sperm liked this not. And God smiled, for Its commandment had put Sperm and Egg at war with each other, even unto the day they made themselves obsolete.Spread thy genes straight into some sweet Susan James tumblrgirl DID poontang, Keeton. 8/10

Finally, Some Good News is very Delicious Tacos. It will fit well in my stack next to , in the substack () loosely covering non-books that could act as a subcultural friendly-identification protocol. The kind you read in public, vaguely hoping that it's recognized by a high functioning autist or low functioning playboi, or maybe even an asian girl that's heard of it in the negative but has a strained relationship with her father. DT is a cool guy and all, but he's gotta stop comically prostrating himself for Dasha^[1] on x, the everything app. I don't even use x, the everything app^[2], and I know this is a thing he does: it's not only exactly the wrong thing to do, it is categoric imperative-lly antisocial behavior. The only way they lose their power is if, in your heart, you harbor only resentment for them. You must feel nothing, and feel it genuinely (they can tell). I saw this other dude, with a substack^[3]. He lives in a van and writes about being a right wing twitter autist who lives in a van and gets cross-country bpd pussy. How the /r9k/ tarpit dwellers must suffer: you can get pussy for being jacked, for playing an instrument, for being smart, for being funny, for being athletic, for being the lame kind of nerd, and even, as it turns out, for being a loser who shouldn't. Shit's flying everywhere, and none of it's hitting (You). It'd be so simple, too. All you'd lose is your dignity. Leer at Marcy Pendergrass and see only her flashback, DT. 9/10
[0] one indexed
[1] he replyguys the red scare girls^[4] like crazy. i listened to the podcast they were all on and it was pretty okay but it's embarassing to do it textually.
[2] i really don't. i go to particular profiles on nitter, sometimes. it's not the same, i swear.
[3] the web kind
[4] there's a level down from real, and they're a tumblr diaspora. there's a level down from that, and they want to triple spec in being an english major. god.

Now You See Me is a movie about Magic, with Hot Chicks. awesome. comically bad writing. 9/10

The Dim Kingdom's Worst Boyfriend Ever: a Review is not a book. It is published, insofar as substacks about books compiled from other substacks can be considered "work" the operation of publishing is defined for, but at the time of my reading it had 243 Hearts and 37 Speech Bubbles, which strikes me as a level of "publication" on even ground with drunken confessionals on public transit, or (dancing in the mirror&) singing in the shower (~Becky G).

In any case, it is very well composed. It struck me a paragraph in that I would fall deeply in love with anyone that makes good prose, if not for the real knowledge that they'd need to Love Me Back for it to be at all useful. I'd download Hinge if the matching process involved writing college application essays.
I used to hate Twitter. I still hate Twitter, I just used to too. Back then, I'd wonder what sort of abominable person microblogs. Shares their second-to-second life. Posts funny little Quips that Brighten Your Day. Now I know.
Sixteen year old egirls with no likes on their posts complaining about Moids. I wonder how the world might've gone if moot'd never brought that place back. Mid-twenties Sensitive Young Men with few likes on their posts complaining about Foids. You'll have to imagine my face when I heard 'looksmaxxing' from an Uninitiated for the first time. Negative Canthal Tilt, It's Over is something the kids have heard. I would ask why they never export the Good Parts to Bad Places, but I'm afraid of the tautology hiding under my bed.
There Are No Girls On The Internet is a cute smokescreen. One day you blink and like Fuminori goddamn Sakisaka they're everywhere, the nerdgirls who got bullied in school and read Warrior Cats fanfiction on Wattpad and spent too much time gazing into the Internet, where everything is shaped like Dudes, and learned when the fucking thing Gazes Back it's transformative. One moment you're born, the next you've got posters on the walls and plushies on the bed, and it Seems Reasonable to directly message a fellow named Worst Boyfriend Ever, and let him stay at your place for a night and Cum His Pants On Your Knee, another sexual conquest for Delicious Tacos if he was /actually/ pathetic instead of just Sad, you can be a Sensitive Young Man with Dignity, but that never leads to much of a story.

It's geniunely unfair to attack the man's prose. It's the world through a certain set of eyes. Borrowing TDK's habit of quoting as evidence,

We defaulted to “what kind of music do you like”-tier conversation. I quickly made a soul read: do you like Neon Genesis Evangelion? She said Yes, I love it. Thank god. From that moment on, I knew we would fuck. It’s a show for sad people. She’s a troubled little soldier, just like me.

Hemingway wasn't plagued with demons that spoke in his head with crass neologism-filled dialect. I don't know what the fuck a BookTok is, but the writings here certainly scream something else to me. I'm much too pretentious to watch or express my love for Evangelion, but I sure do know what it feels like to clock someone, and I've never seen it put quite so nicely.

I took the pill in self-defense, knowing that giving the girl more pleasure would increase the odds she’d fall in love with me, that she’d call me back, that she’d categorize the sex as “good” and want to do it again, so that I would never have to deal with that terrible loneliness I feel in extended periods of incel-dom.

The guy's a loser, but I'll never have it said that this "Prolefeed smut for never-nude zoomer girls", "autofictional dreck repackaged for egirls who say the n-word" is without merit. If you find no insight is given, take the account itself as the opportunity to linger in the Almost Honest mind of a Certain Kind of Person. Delicious Tacos never begged a girl to let him dry hump her leg until he jizzed his pants. Not that I can remember, anyway. It was easier, in the OKCupid days. Think like the kid a moment, mister Kingdom. 9/10

Quote of the Session:
The Kali Yuga is upon us, I only got 3 matches on Bumble and they all ghosted me after the second message. Its over.
~ -unknown-