ilx posts with striking imagery

like excelsior, but for effort into responses other than lols.

the lp will never arrive
& the bitrate of the mp3s will deteriorate by 1kbps each passing day
until you are left
with just a shadow
of something
you barely got to hold on to

― schlump, Tuesday, February 5, 2013 12:28 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

not an auspicious start

skull custard redux

a striking preposition

http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a190/jamawalk2/Slapped-by-Glenn-Ford-640.jpg

in the united states of new hampshire ice will be shipped down canals from the mountains, huge blocks of it, covered in saw dust, accompanied by men from the Ice Guild, who wear robes and symbolic chains around their necks and chant mournfully in a dialect of english that is only theirs

― max, Thursday, March 15, 2012 11:09 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

I spent my weekends in a planned community. Cul-de-sacs out the wazoo. Walking and biking paths snaking through the neighborhoods. Only two ways into the town. Playgrounds close by. That part of town where every street was named after a PGA golfer.

As a kid, my step-brother and I would enter a drainage tunnel and walk along through it to see where we'd come out at. Our local playground was this "tree-house", where there was a long tube with a ladder inside it that would lead to a circular platform, walled off with metal bars.

It must've looked pretty sharp when people started moving in during the late 70s, but by the time we were done with it around 1990, all that new had worn off in a bad way. All those houses with the wooden facades started looking pretty bad. Traffic was getting heavier, winding up and down those curvy streets to the cul-de-sac of your choice. Those walking and bike paths that went between and behind the houses were perfect for scoping out burglaries, peeping toms and even the occasional rape. People kept peeing down the tube of our "tree-house", so the community nailed plywood over the openings.

We went back over there recently for a Christmas party. There's a big five lane "loop" going around the city, mere feet from some people's backyards. They razed all the land around the lake my family would picnic at, so now it looks like this little pond surrounded by strip malls and Walmart Neighborhood Grocery. Those two routes into the city were clogged and I read that they're thinking about adding a third artery, if the state highway department lets them put in a new interchange on the interstate.

Instead of the planned "New Town" that the commercials for the place advertised, it looks now just like a regular town... albeit one that is choking itself through the shortsighted planning of that utopia that never quite came to pass. And it's STILL 30 minutes removed from any other city. I don't know why people still move out to those brick mini mcmansions on the slab. The crime is still there. The county property taxes are the same as in the "big" city. You can't see the stars at night. I honestly couldn't tell you what is the pay-out for all that.

― pplains, Monday, February 18, 2013 10:03 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

ilx posts with striking imagery

today i leave hawaii forever

my god is coming with

― ❏❐❑❒ (gr8080), Monday, February 18, 2013 12:52 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

1982. we were due to drive back from the Dordoyne region of France to catch the ferry back to the UK, this is a drive of 14 hours straight. five of us travelling, mum dad 3 kids in a regular sized family saloon.
the night before we ate local market scallops on the barbie. oops. the next morning i got up and went to the toilet with my guts churning. This wasn't like your regular runny tummy - this was beyond pebbledash, this was bad, this was like pissing out of my arse, gallons and gallons of the stuff.

Oh if i could minute every torturous bump and rev and braking in that car. we had this stuff called diocalm. the stated daily dose was 6 tablets a day i necked 'em tablets 2 an hour for the next 14 hours. the car was boiling, dry heat 80F-ish, i was drinkin about 2ltr water per hour. Diocalm gave my bowels a half-chance, they were straining at the leash, ferocious but i could just about clench it back. Without that stuff the inside of our car would have have looked like chocolate Coronation Street but smelt a lot worse. this was nothing short of karmic payback. payback for all the times i'd sung running down the gutter like a melted piece of butter, diarrohea, diarreaha - people think it's funny but it's really wet and runny, diarrohea etc. i butt-clenched my way through countless service station lobbies so i could go lose another six pints. some of those toilets were so traumatizing they turned black and white in my memory within five minutes of leaving them.

― john clarkson, Wednesday, April 19, 2006 8:55 PM (6 years ago)

Two summers ago I was staying at a friend's house in his village outside Cambridge. He had a hunting license and a number of shotguns, and I agreed to go out shooting with him. On the first day I hit nothing save for a tin can. On the second day, we lay in wait in a copse until a plump woodpigeon sat athwart an overhead branch. I brought it down with one blast and wrung its neck before stuffing it into my jacket. Later that evening we would eat its breast, fried and then halved, over toast. But what stays from me particularly was what happened shortly afterwards. An oncoming rustle from a hedgerow alerted me to some impending beast. Yet I was stayed from cocking my gun - lack of hunter's instinct perhaps - as then a bright fox burst from the grasses and stood not three yards away. We contemplated one another and then the fox set off in a straight line away from me, at no more than a brisk trot. My friend had spoken of a local fox who had long eluded his sights - perhaps this was the very one - anyhow, I cocked my gun, raised it to my shoulder as instructed, took aim at the target from a distance of approximately thirty to forty feet, and fired. I am not sure what force tilted my arm that day, but the fox, intact, veered back into the undergrowth, and barring a subsequent half-hearted crack at a flying pheasant that naturally also missed, I have never fired a weapon since. Indeed, I am grateful that I never did hit that fox, for foxes are magnificent animals, dear to me since early youth, and I would hate to have slain some beast I wasn't even intending to eat. The pigeon? It is done, and it will not be done again.

― acoleuthic, Sunday, October 3, 2010 12:01 PM (2 years ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

striking misuse of the word "athwart"

ah, intemperate bachelorhood

Shosh is that girl on your dorm hallway who showers twice a day, watches more TV than all the other people on that hall put together, wears pink tracksuits, keeps all her childhood stuffed animals and is secretly fucking the catering manager/a townie.

― karl lagerlout (suzy), Tuesday, March 5, 2013 12:25 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

ilx posts with striking imagery

ilx posts with striking imagery

Gudjohnsen is Chelsea's best striker
― Dadaismus (Dada), Wednesday, April 7, 2004 6:12 AM (8 years ago) Bookmark

in the realm of pop culture I think social media/performance theory today has roughly the same weight as mixed media/postmodern theory in the 90s; I can v. easily see Palmer ditching the music and nabbing a gig that’s more highbrow/academic. let’s not forget that Spooky’s greatest credential is his ecstatic vision of postmodernism as a playground f/ limitless self-realization inextricably linked w/ oblivious and compulsive production that’s packaged and sold as an intoxicating stew of reified, idealized narcissism that only secondarily employs music and text and film. in the rarified circles to which AP and Spooky aspire, only success is success, and success is the only necessary credential f/ any endeavor (meaning Palmer’s future may actually depend on her continuation down her current path, and I’m sure she’ll be fine).

― Hellhouse, Thursday, March 21, 2013 12:43 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

he gives a weird finger... some people throw a weird bird.

― scott seward, Friday, 1 June 2012 13:39 (9 months ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

the only restaurant worth eating at in all of north america is arby's drive-thru.

― dylannn, Tuesday, March 19, 2013 4:25 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

chatty filipina girl greeting, jamocha shake, first lick of liquid cheese/bbq sauce emulsification off the papercovered tinfoil, extra roast beef, horsey sauce on everything, curly fries, finished off with a fat hogleg of skoal cherry as you peel out of the parking lot, garbage out the window.

― dylannn, Tuesday, March 19, 2013 4:29 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

*plays springsteeny chords*

more machine gun kelly than springsteen i think

elmo: haha get a nutritionist u slob

*the ground rumbles as buzz, now in the form of a monster truck sized katamari ball made of gucci products, rolls over elmo and the light dies from his stupid eyes*

― turds (Hungry4Ass), Tuesday, March 26, 2013 12:23 PM (Yesterday) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

i was incredibly pleased recently to find my old, pre-smart-phone phone, which i hadn't used in ~ 4 years. it still had a charge. i put in a spare SIM card and all my old contacts were still there somehow, many of which i had no idea who they were, and for a second it was like i really had gone back in time. i loved that fucking phone.

― TracerHandVEVO (Tracer Hand), Friday, March 29, 2013 6:57 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

did it remember your high score in snake?

― your holiness, we have an official energy drink (Z S), Friday, March 29, 2013 7:26 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

that phone didn't have snake. i can't remember what it had actually. i didn't play games on it. it had the internet, but only over GPRS (the "circle" connection on an iPhone, i.e. practically useless) so i never used it. i can vividly remember the anxiety that welled up when i realized i didn't have any reading material for a train ride though. the surreptitious angling for a discarded evening standard on the other side of the carriage.

― TracerHandVEVO (Tracer Hand), Saturday, March 30, 2013 7:08 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Everybody: Carl and I used to work at a casual-fine-dining Low-Country-Asian fusion restaurant and bakery where in the stinking hot Carolina summer, I would dip into the bushel of corn starch barrel and liberally apply it to my hot, clammy body.

― Je55e, Friday, April 5, 2013 5:06 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

in the united states of new hampshire ice will be shipped down canals from the mountains, huge blocks of it, covered in saw dust, accompanied by men from the Ice Guild, who wear robes and symbolic chains around their necks and chant mournfully in a dialect of english that is only theirs

― max, Thursday, March 15, 2012 11:09 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

^^^ initially read this as being about "ice cream," not "ice" and it was even more striking

i also read the thread title as a sentence with a subject and a verb, a la "gaby thirsts for knowledge"

did you hear that time is a bulldozer that destroys everything in its path and soon all will be as dust???! like this if ur an 80s kid!!!

― the bagel is the bagel (donna rouge), Wednesday, April 10, 2013 8:57 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

i'm starting a milton collection and whoever owned it before me was just an awful human being - vertical lines, underlines, notes in the margins, writing OVER THE WORDS THEMSELVES, literally coloring entire pages with crayon...

― brony james (k3vin k.), Friday, April 12, 2013 4:18 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

bloodstains, entire pages ripped out, burn marks, receipts for tanning salon visits stuck between pages, nail clippings, and one page a solitary daisy from Lord knows when, pressed as flat and lifeless as a butterfly in a lepidopterist's display case.

― He has a lot of baggage (handlers' perks) (Michael White), Friday, April 12, 2013 4:28 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

when i annotate books i am writing for eternity

but here i am writing for you alone, here in this moment we share

― j., Sunday, April 14, 2013 4:49 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

i think contenderizer is making fun of me in this message but still, it's well written:

yes, you detect the presence of evil, and psychic spines extend from the surface of your astral shell into the offending region. i think we're on the same page.

― I have many lovely lacy nightgowns (contenderizer), Monday, April 15, 2013 12:57 AM (3 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Interestingly as I approach 100 floors I now am able to feel both ashamed of my mistakes and frustrated at the impudence of fate just as I were playing a real game with failure and consequences and shit. This weekend I accidentally built TWO recreational floors in a row, causing demand for that class to drop, and on top of that motherfuckin' Tiny Tower God gave me a goddamn theatre and a planetarium, which FUCK YOU only one guy has a dream job at the theater so the rest are seasonal stiffs who stock at the normal rate. Slowing down my revenue means it takes forever to build new floors so recovering from this tactical error is going to take all week. SHIT.

Also this game proves, perversely, the value of collective bargaining. If my 180 wage slave population individually approached me for free rent, I'd happily oblige, since rent is now a piddle proportion of my daily profit. If they struck for a larger slice of the pie that currently accrues I, as the "benevolent" overlord of this arcology that exists strictly as a vehicle for my amusement and outlet for my various latent mental disorders, I'd be well fucked. Firing my dream jobbers would be excruciating. If there's anything to learn from Tiny Tower, it's that scabs should be a terrifying prospect for any capitalist - thankfully, Tiny is a right-to-work state, like all game development studios and other "creative" workplaces.

― El Tomboto, Monday, April 15, 2013 10:28 PM (10 minutes ago) Bookmark

also one time i was at a karaoke night for a friend's birthday and this kinda overweight nerdy kid sang something really jammy for karaoke while wearing his black canvas backpack and it made me really happy because he looked like such a dork and he seemed like he just dngaf and then later that night i was getting out of a cab to go to a party and i saw that same kid still wearing his backpack and invited him up to the party and told him that i liked his backpack and then apologized for calling him 'backpack' but then the girls who's place it was was really mad at me cuz it turned out this kid looked like he was like 15 and it was supposed to be a cool drug party or w/e and he was obv really uncomfortable w/the whole scene so i had to get him to leave after his first drink but he didnt seem to mind that much

anyway the moral of the story is that backpacks are so cool that they can get you invited to parties but also asked to leave parties

― Reggie (Lamp), Tuesday, 16 April 2013 16:24 (Yesterday) Permalink

People use alcohol to get up the nerve to do a lot of things: talk to girls, get in fights, dangerous stunts, whatever. For me, it takes getting drunk to do serious house cleaning. Last night a pint of Tanqueray had me on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. A kitchen floor that, when I looked at it sober, the best I could do was scowl at.

― how's life, Friday, May 3, 2013 5:35 AM (3 days ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Guitars sounding powerful yet awkward, like an adolescent robot stork.

― Tracer Hand, Wednesday, July 4, 2001 7:00 PM (11 years ago)

ha!

i started wandering around searching for clues which is not in the spirit of the game but
kills time
sometimes you're somewhere familiar and you can take a good guess from the hints around you, oh i might be in the ukraine but sometimes it's just a blind great paranoid wander down a dirt road in the boreal forest with no signs of life except suddenly a dog on the road, suddenly an unreadable highway sign, a crossroads and you have to decide which way will bring you to some hint of your location faster. you eventually hit pavement and see a few big trucks passing you. but any streetsign could be thousands of clicks, thousands of screen reloads in either direction. you might be in northern michigan or northern saskatchewan.

― dylannn, Friday, May 10, 2013 6:59 PM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

google maps survivalism

buddy, get back to Guess the City

the crisp crunch and cheesy give of a pizza.

a few hours ago, a guy with a cowboy hat came in, looked a lot like don imus, and asked me questions about my life and he also told me: "i've got a son named dylan," bob dylan's birthday was on may 24th, and bob dylan is 72 years old. he told me that he divorced his wife on bob dylan's birthday. his wife was a canadian public radio personality whose name i recognized. he asked me if i was a musician. he gave me a cd, broke out the back sheet from it and signed it with a sharpie, THANKS FOR LISTENING. i'm listening to it right now and there's a song on the cd called "a lonely place called divorce" and there's a line on it about divorcing his wife on bob dylan's birthday. there's another song warning women to treat him well or they'll end up as a line in his suicide letter.

i was impressed with his commitment to his personal vision of his own character. but it made almost too neat an anecdote to share, black and white jim jarmusch short neat. maybe the one armed man story should have been filed in the same category.

― dylannn, Sunday, June 2, 2013 8:01 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

its hard to avoid SOME level of nostalgia if you are looking at and using something that is 50 or 60 years old. or even 40 or 30 years old. but for me, the thrill is playing that old thing and hearing new sounds in the present. its very much a now thing for me. some people definitely try and evoke the past and that's their primary relationship with old things. or they want to be reminded of the past. their own or an earlier past. there are always going to be people who prize things based on age. and who will insist, sometimes ignorantly, that the old or the new is the best. we should just avoid those people altogether. my own bias toward analog and tape and records and older recording techniques, older microphones(!), older studios, and older mixing boards is based on the variety of religious experience i have witnessed over the years. i can play 50 records (or a hundred or a thousand) and they can all sound wildly different! how they were recorded, how they were pressed, when and where they were recorded, what the room was like, what gear was used, what mics, etc, etc, and on and on forever all play a part in why they sound so different. granted, i've got history on my side. over a hundred years of recordings. but out of every 100 CDs i play, i might hear one or two that are genuinely striking. sound-wise. and they are usually the ones that were worked on endlessly and hundreds of hours of time and effort went in to making them. whereas some of the greatest records i've ever heard, again sonically, were made in a couple of hours on the cheap. there is a digital uniformity that my chaotic brain rebels against. actual noises that you hear in real life are not free of distortion or separated from other ambient noises/sounds. you don't hear things in a vacuum. and i guess i've never really understood people who wanted to divorce musical sounds from the ambient hum that is all around us. one of the great joys of listening to old records for me is actually hearing the room that the music is being played in. the reverberations. the echo. 78s and 50's-era records are good for this. old jazz. it increases my feeling of intimacy with the music and makes me feel closer to the people playing it. and its a different feeling completely than the feeling i get listening to the clear reallyreallyclose fidelity of a digital recording. which can often be lysergic in its closeness. you can hear someone's uvula flapping in the breeze. i can see why people dig that though. tech-wise. geek-wise. that ultrahuman clearness. like HD or blu-ray. i appreciate it more when i'm listening to sound artists or electro-acoustic music. very trippy. can be a little jarring if its just some acoustic folk record and i'm sitting inside someone's guitar or throat. i appreciate a little distancing. and that's what i think people mean by warmness when they talk about records. voices have more glow on tape? i dunno. its certainly possible to make a pretty accurate recording of the human voice on tape. maybe its like the difference between old tube televisions and new flat screens. when everyone had tubes, you would walk down the street at night and little electric fireplaces beamed out of windows. the windows would actually glow. you could see what people were watching. you could hear the sound outside a window loud and clear. with flatscreens the flatness is supreme. you don't get the glow. you can walk by a hundred of them and never have your eye drawn to the picture. they are easy to ignore and hide. same with digital muzak and radio. very easy to tune out. the uniform levels don't engage the ear. nothing leaps out. having said all that, i absolutely LOVE the possibilities within the world of electronic/dance/rap and digital sound. and that, to me, is the greatest stuff to listen to on cd. that tooclose and ultra-clear vocal sound you can get with a computer is stunning when applied to rap. talk about hard to ignore and jarring and visceral. when i take off a record and put on a rap cd its like a bomb has gone off. and that's a good thing. and i've already talked a lot about my undying love for those Kompakt CDs that ILM made me buy years ago. they IMMEDIATELY draw you in. they are definitely a gold standard for me. no doubt anyone here could name a dozen other labels who have achieved similar results and created amazing sound over the last 20 years. warp, mego, etc. whoever. i've also mentioned that when i put a kompakt cd on in the store almost everyone without exception who walks in the store asks me what i'm playing. they quickly become addicted. because it sounds so undeniably good! and cool! and it IS sound that leaps out at you and is 3D in an amazing textural way. so the uses (and sci-fi potential) for digi sound are endless. and i'm gonna guess that in 20 years we won't know what hit us. binaural blu-ray friggin' death ray ridiculousness, i'm guessing. but whatever comes will always be - it can't help but be - DIFFERENT from magnetic tape and all manner of electrical recordings of the distant past. there's something for everyone. my own nostalgic defense is this: bad digital recordings are often just that, bad. and sometimes, to me, unlistenable. bad analog recordings, or cheap or amateurish recordings, often have SOME sort of charming or idiosyncratic quality that can make them either endearing in their badness (muffed use of fx or just dementedly poor placement of microphones) or even addictively listenable from a sound collector/lover perspective (nasty guitar distortion, epic echo abuse, etc.). and when analog recordings on vinyl are great - and arguably they reached their height all the way back in the 1950's - i think they rival any art or art form that the 20th century had to offer.

― scott seward, Saturday, 15 June 2013 21:36 (2 hours ago)

As far as imagery goes, that huge block of text looks pretty impressive.

the thing that kills me about the PUA craze is that on Road Rules: Semester At Sea there was a castmate named Pua and every time I see the acronym, I think of her and wonder if this shit is haunting her

― DJP, Thursday, June 20, 2013 8:57 PM (1 minute ago) Bookmark

hahaha

i don't have the heart to rewrite it in the style of people writing in tao lin style on the internet.

― dylannn, Friday, June 21, 2013 3:10 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

but that will be the only thing that happens tonight. last night or the night before, i only slept a few hours during the day and came into work and, when everyone was gone, made a bed of towels on the floor in the back room and fell asleep until quarter to four. the night before that, i set myself up in an empty room and sat at the desk and wrote on the hotel stationary and drank a can of kokanee. i took a shower in another room, an early checkout. three women came in around two in the morning and i gave them a free room for no reason and they checked into their room and one of them came back and put two twenty dollar bills on the counter (american currency). there's a girl that works in the laundry room until midnight and she's started stopping in to chat before she goes home and i don't want to discourage her because i enjoy the ten or fifteen minutes she's here--in order to drive conversation with her, i checked her out on facebook but she seems to be really interested in soccer, and i found an introduction to sudanese arabic on youtube and i practiced the phrases with her, and we talk about cities in the united states that would be good to live in and food--but i simultaneously resent it because it subtracts time by myself from the night. with nobody coming by, no slow darkening of the day, the natural rhythms of life are absent and every hour feels like an hour but it still goes by too fast.

But Scheer and other experts believe a significant part of the problem with shift work is physiological. On a fundamental level, being awake at odd or irregular hours fights with our biological rhythms. Shift work disrupts the circadian rhythm -- our internal body clock that is keyed to natural daylight and darkness.

Because circadian rhythm affects how the body functions, disrupting it can throw everything out of whack -- including our cardiovascular system, metabolism, digestion, immune system, and hormonal balance. That appears to have serious consequences.

The short-term health effects of shift work are clear. ... Aside from the obvious fatigue, effects include:

Gastrointestinal symptoms like upset stomach, nausea, diarrhea, constipation, and heartburn
Increased risk of injuries and accidents
Insomnia
Decreased quality of life
General feeling of being unwell

― dylannn, Friday, June 21, 2013 3:38 AM Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

ha, was just scrolling down to c/p that part - mental image of a mutant Ocado van roaming the Oxford countryside running things over

― wakaflockinihilipilification (seandalai), Wednesday, 10 July 2013 00:45 (40 minutes ago)

Man was like a sponge, everything was grist for the mill. Was there a tune that he couldn't slyly smooch up to, grab by the short & curlies before it could resist, then stick it in a suit and fill it with so much coke until it was twitching and drooling like a sex-addicted cyborg sweating lizard blood?

― trippin' on brostep beats (NickB), Friday, August 2, 2013 8:34 AM

nickb is a high quality poster but that reads like something by stephen wells

does any of latour's newer theory stuff demonstrate that he's actually doing any research at all anymore? i get his theory is all about actual research methodologies. but is he actually employing those to study actual things, or just pontificating on them these days?

― "Dave Barlow" is the name Lou uses on sabermetrics baseball sites (s.clover), Wednesday, August 14, 2013 1:56 AM (4 hours ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

that's what you do once you're eminent, i thought, you shoot eminent rays out at things in order to unify them under one field of eminence

― j., Wednesday, August 14, 2013 4:37 AM (1 hour ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Ha, remember when I re-posted that?

a friend has a story about being stuck in a car on a narrow country road during the foot & mouth outbreak in Jan 2001 while a forklift moved a pile of dead cows onto a huge bonfire in front of them, and the only CD they had to listen to was the Hanson Christmas album, that probably left a mental imprint

― fc_TEFH28mo (Camaraderie at Arms Length), Thursday, September 2, 2021 11:41 AM (eleven minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

wow

Holy fuck

mmmmmooo bop

what a tale

p sure that scene was in The Road: Director's Cut

I like "Kiss Me" because it's bittersweet and nostalgic because it reminds me of 'She's All That' which reminds of Rachel Leigh Cook which reminds me of this girl I was friends with around the time of 'She's All That' who looked alot like Rachel Leigh Cook but then she moved away and after she moved I thoughy 'I wanted to fuck her but I never got the chance' so when I hear "Kiss Me" at Publix (which is like every time I'm there, they've got "Kiss Me" and Air's "All I Need" on a loop or something) I'll sigh. Her name was Kerry.
― James Blount, Tuesday, January 14, 2003 2:44 AM (eighteen years ago) bookmarkflaglink

the one time I got an MRI I made the mistake of asking for the radio to be on, and it was when Adele was big. I'll never forget being trapped motionless in a tube listening to "Never mind I'll fiiiiind, someone like youuuuuuuuuu BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM foooooor youuuuuuuuuuu BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM"

― Lily Dale, Thursday, October 14, 2021 10:08 PM (thirty-one minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

That reminds me very deeply of the radio being on when I was undergoing radiation therapy, usually on some classic rock and soul radio station, and I have a deep memory of singing along to "Black Water" by the Doobies while this crazy machine shot radioactive lasers at my crotch.

My dad drank a glass of milk with dinner every night until he died. Didn’t matter what was being eaten - steak/milk, catfish/milk, chicken fried rice/milk, taco night/milk. Awful.

― papal hotwife (milo z), Thursday, November 4, 2021 6:10 PM (twelve minutes ago) bookmarkflaglink

jon, they'd have to be drinking more than a gallon a day PER PERSON, some of whom are small children. That's not remotely normal.

― Ima Gardener (in orbit), Thursday, November 4, 2021 1:25 PM

drinking milk on its own is weird. on cereal, in tea or coffee, fine. in a glass? weird and wrong.

i drank a glass of milk with dinner until i left home ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i drank the same glass of milk for 20 years

i love milk but i fall down on the side of thinking that drinking a lot of it is weird and probably unhealthy and if i'm going honest a little trashy. could be the influence of california idk.

You bet your ass we’re talking milk on multiple threads!

#justmilkthings

i drank one glass of milk over the course of 20 years
very slowly

^^Like Sarlacc

he drink the milk like Sarlacc
drink the milk like Sarlacc

but cookies tho, are you just never gonna eat another cookie, or only have them with coffee or tea, what kind of life is that, and what about santa. WHAT ABOUT SANTA

xpost assuming this is to the tune of Moves Like Jagger

cookies biscuits are dunked in tea, Father Christmas drinks sweet sherry.

this is known

i think that you will find that biscuits are, in fact, covered in gravy

and what the heck kind of drunkass santa, how’s he even supposed to drive the sleigh, old boy’s gonna crash into someone’s house and be barfing everywhere. pfft, sherry.

https://i.postimg.cc/rprt2K6v/main-qimg-d4106c4a3d18f6dfbe093614a693135d-pjlq.jpg

yr mom drinks sherry.

only at Christmas

And so this is Christmas
And what have you done
Lots of dead kids and reindeer
And Santa's on the run

UK people seem to get horrified at pictures of biscuits and gravy.

"Ew. Is that cat vomit?"

the reason for this is that it looks like cat vomit.

wtf biscuits and gravy are delicious just like BLOOD SAUSAGE oi mates

oh I'm sure it's delicious, I've eaten worse-looking things which tasted fine

wtf biscuits and gravy are delicious just like BLOOD SAUSAGE oi mates

― the utility infielder of theatre (Neanderthal),

it's called MORCILLA, mi socio.

Its called black pudding buck

hey don't bring CRT into this

...wait just a dang minute

if this father christmas guy only drinks sherry

and yr mom also drinks sherry, but only on christmas(!)

i need you to be brutally honest here, not only with me but with yourself:

have you ever seen yr mom in the same room as father christmas?

Boy, HAVE i

i saw mother mac n santa claus

kevin mccallister on the tv, pairing a chalice of milk with kraft dinner. your uncle sips a white russian while his newborn spits up the last bottle. mother sets a pitcher of milk on the table, and you wake up to your subaru interior. with your right foot, you instruct the machine to turn out miles. you grasp the wheel and place the miles between you and the milk.

― accordion folder full of Zoobooks (Sufjan Grafton), Thursday, 9 December 2021 18:13 (one minute ago) bookmarkflaglink

when my gran moved in with my aunt in the 70s mum and dad inherited her freezer and found it full of frozen onions and lemons

― mark s, Saturday, September 17, 2022 5:51 PM

instant classic:

Today, I walked along the south coast, from the edge of the New Forest up into Christchurch. That whole chunk of coast has been monetised in one way or another, from £60-a-day beach sheds to tweely named and eyewateringly expensive seafood restaurants like the Lucky Lobster or the Oleaginous Oyster or whatever. _Everything_ was shut, each place with its own hand-printed elegy/notice as to why. I couldn't even get the ferry at Mudeford (only running two services, one at 10, the other at 5pm in honour of her maj).

Christchurch is, it turns out, the perfect town for totalitarian mourning. It's one of the most Tory places on earth and has a population all in fear of their lives, all ripe for some tea-towel out-the-window action. It felt like everyone was in competition. All the post boxes were decorated, people had blacked out their windows; each restaurant and cafe had huge signs up saying why they were shut. You could totally imagine anyone showing dissent having their windows caved in. It was a bizarre sight. Pretty much the only sign of life was in the doorway of the vast baroque Conservative Club, where an old lady with a frame and a trifle on her head was openly weeping into the street. The station was deserted and the ticket machine was wrapped in crime scene tape so I didn't buy a train ticket home. That one was on you, Liz.

― Shard-borne Beatles with their drowsy hums (Chinaski), Monday, 19 September 2022 17:36 (yesterday) bookmarkflaglink

I had a vivid dream about two weeks ago... Jerry Orbach-era L&O, with Det Briscoe on the trail of some shirtless, leather-jacket wearing cat burglar. When he finally catches up with the perp and his associates, they're wearing "Stipe/Biles '24" lapel badges. "Good luck with that," says Briscoe.

So, there are options.

― Michael Jones, Tuesday, January 31, 2023 6:07 AM (six hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

I also sleep with half a dozen radios and television sets turned on like Roky Erickson. I can't fall asleep otherwise. The idea is to get a bunch of voices talking over each other, either in a languages I can't understand or at an unintelligible volume. And over that, I'll have a couple of devices playing variations of 'rain on attic skylight with heavy thunderstorm', and I'll turn those up pretty loud. It's a delicate balance and I have to get it just so. Absolutely no music of any kind because it holds my attention and keeps me awake.

― The field divisions are fastened with felicitations. (Deflatormouse), Thursday, 9 March 2023 05:58

“Hello, room service? This is going to sound a little strange, but…”

Ticket scalping should be legal-ish but you should have to pay cash to a weird guy in a dirty San Jose Sharks Starter jacket for two tickets a block away from the venue like the good old days.

― papal hotwife (milo z), Thursday, March 9, 2023 11:47 PM

i hope an elephant falls out of the sky and lands on him, and fuses together with his body, so that at his funeral, his loved ones will have to choose between an open casket funeral with everyone seeing his head buried deep inside a dead elephant, or a closed casket.

and because of the elephant and him fusing, the casket will have to have enormous proportions and they will have to pay like 300,000 dollars for it and someone will raise it for them and then steal the money and donate it to an LGBTQ+ charity in his name.

― the manwich horror (Neanderthal), Monday, June 12, 2023 4:09 PM (five hours ago) bookmarkflaglink

Get a six pack of Mountain Dew Code Red, a bag of Flamin' Hot Doritos, settle into your corduroy bean bag chair, and cue up their entire discography on random. You'll be sweatin' and shiverin' no matter what the season

― the absence of bikes (f. hazel), Wednesday, December 6, 2023 8:59 PM