…[This] indicates the rise of a new sort of cinematic – if not hero, or even protagonist, then central point around which a maelstrom of power, influence, and narrative swirls.
In a day job where I come into contact with a lot of teens, I’ve noticed a great number wearing rubber bracelets – thicker and broader, more physically substantial in all ways than the once-hot yellow Livestrong wristbands – reading “I love boobies.” That is, they say that in a voguish shorthand, the “love” replaced by a big heart with a smaller heart stenciled inside.
I saw a preview of “My Generation” on Youtube. It said the show is about people who graduated in 2000 and what they’re doing ten years later. I was like, “Oh my god, this is about me!” I danced around my living room excited to find out television has finally decided to take my generation seriously.
If I had hesitated (for example to tie my shoe) I’m sure we would have collided. She’d counted on the continuity of my my movement. I took part in mathematics of the most complex kind.
In 1932, two years into The Great Depression, unemployment was at 23.6%. It’s been two years since The Great Recession started. According to federal statistics, unemployment is at 9.6%, and according to MSN Money the real unemployment rate is 16.6%. What were they listening to, back then? What are we listening to, now?
Throughout the film, Phoenix treats his loyal entourage like dirt, and on the whole, acts like a narcissistic, drug addicted pig. Maybe he was trying to satirize celebrity and what it has become.
This afternoon Amanda offered me gum, and I hadn’t chewed gum in a long, long time. I ran through my history with chewing gum. When my sister and I played whiffle-ball on the front driveway, using our garage-door as backstop, I’d pack roughly a third…
I was nervous all week about DIT Fest. The whole thing seemed out of control. Tao Lin, Sam Pink, Jordan Castro, Richard Wehrenberg and like two hundred bands…
I think some writers could mention the hipster’s obsession with clothes or music, but every American subculture has an obsession with defining themselves with clothes and music. That is just being American.
If we eat things before we exit can no one call…catch us? There’s habeas corpus but there’s something else. Body of evidence? Doesn’t physical evidence need to exist of the event? So long as we consume all evidence perhaps nothing can be done to us.