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this shit owns it's just a number go up idle game except the idle mechanic comes from you writing JavaScript to automate tasks it seems like the end goal of the game is to perfectly optimize against this little arbitrary system they've created. There's not any plot to speak of so far but even though nothing is happening people send you messages through the computer telling you to trust no one as they all have ulterior motives. Very relatable.

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L

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Okay, time to announce it properly: Horrible Girls is an artbook filled with 54 horror-themed pinups inspired by retro comics and ads! I had SO MUCH fun with this project, I hope you enjoy it at least half as much as I did haha

✨You can download a PDF of Horrible Girls on Itch.io!✨

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Art by ungfio

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beyond sadness at lynch's death i'm also pretty pissed because he had been trying to get another project done in the years before his passing and netflix and others didn't want to finance it. john waters is the same age as lynch and his latest project was also canned because he couldn't find the money for it. others like scorsese have been luckier but they're also struggling to get their work made. and meanwhile there's more slop coming out every year. it just feels bleak. there won't be another lynch in part because the current system isn't allowing artists like that to exist, now less than ever

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a man will experience same sex attraction and forget how to act

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this photoshoot lives in my head rentfree

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julian casablancas for foxes magazine. shot by ebru yildiz

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the strokes on their first uk tour in 2001.

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it’s not yours anymore

(check out tags for warning)

It pulls you down down down down. With flesh-slime fingers that leave red marks on your feet.

It sucks the sunlight down with you. And then you’re far away. But you can see your body smiling and laughing. Only you can see the dullness of your eyes, the arc of your arms that know where they will go before they start moving.

You look around and down and up and sideways until you almost feel dizzy. There is only floor below you. There is only ceiling above. You’re air, you’re light, you’re nothing except invisible eyes that look in on your own life.

How would you panic? You can’t stop looking. You can look away, but not for long. When you stop thinking, you can’t tell where the white grained stillness of the wall starts and where you begin.

There is one bitter sinking feeling that grounds you. That low moaning wail of jealousy when you watch the fat flabby brown arms that were once yours. Your saggy tits, the bulging frog belly, the dark of your inner thighs, the crust of dry skin on your lips, the white dry web between your fingers, the bumps and spots pockmarked across your face. They’re moving across space on their own now.

They’re not yours anymore. They’re not yours. You hated them when they were yours. You wanted to be something removed, something imperceivable that just shined pure and unfiltered, and you got your wish. 

You’re a shining star of nothing, now. You’re everything - the air, the light, the wall, the ceiling. You’re everything except the will of small atoms, bodies, the automatoe of everyday life that are beneath you now. 

You can watch the whole world. You can watch the whole universe. You could peer inside a black hole. You could look back through time and watch the first creature walk on dry earth. You could watch some untold pain flit across some nameless face. 

Yet, you’re always drawn back to this old shell. You’re drawn back to that solid shape of you. Whatever you are. If you could be called a you.

You watch it and it hurts. Memories film over your perception. Dirty nails picking at skin. Head pounding and fingers clutched over a wet belly. Tears and drawing into yourself. You try to remember the full intensity of these sensations, even the simplest of touch against soft skin, but it evades you. Its not yours anymore. Its not yours anymore.

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Happy Juneteenth! Wishing you a joyful day of celebration.

Queer and trans liberation is inseparable from Black liberation! SOLIDARITY ALWAYS ♥️

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i'D LIKE TO THINK THIS ALL MEANS SOMETHING, BUT i'M AFRIAD IT DOESN'T. And when we say meaning what does that mean? It can be a billion trillion tiny things, every second of our existence, that mean something - but not to us. Maybe it's the fact that it doesnt mean anything that means something. that we can do as we please, mundane profane dirty boring mind-numbing. we live and breathe and we dont always know how to make that mean something. how to make that make sense. even knowing that, even trying to romanticize every moment like this, we can't. Why can't we? We want to transcend, see from above or afar, but we can't. Not always. In some way, in some form, we're pulled back down to earth to be. To experience. To be called stupid in the living room for picking the prettiest flowers, to almost fall asleep while nobody is watching and then get right back to work, to half-wave when your friend goes into the cafeteria and you try to catch his eye but he doesn't see you or maybe he's tired or maybe he hates you now. Maybe that meaning isn't meant for you, the moment isn't yours. But if I'm experiencing every moment, then every moments got to be mine, right? So every meaning has to be mine? We have so little in this life, do we have to give away some of our meanings too? I guess theres no choice in the matter. We're constrained, we're not unlimited in what we can do and we are limited by various needs and ways in which we have been built to move through the world. it doesnt even matter if im making sense right now does it? signposts for thoughts. thoughts that are signposts for feelings. feelings that are signposts for something else, some reaction to the environment. some acknowledgement that the world outside is affecting the one inside. that time is linear and that things past affect things future. but there is also now now now now that affects the now and the future and maybe the past, how you look back on it. everything effects everything. death is a constant, can i say linear time is a constant ? or is that only accurate physically and maybe not mentally? in this case it may be hard to separate mental from physical, the line is sometimes hard to draw. brain signals control action and sensation, sometimes it all just boils down to your expectations and the failure of meeting them.