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
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
[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:
there is one command more destructive than rm -rf and its apt install waydroid
~ lc