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My Other Half With That Thy Gentle Hand Seized Mine I Yielded
“I lay back in the heap of cords, which spawned and propagated from a bud, a navel, the hub of the Mimir, which still ran hot and loud a few minutes into the cooldown protocol.”
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Letter from the editor
You can read Hunter S. Thompson’s suicide note if you want but only on Genius Lyrics for some reason and only while 50jitsteppa offers up a studio performance of his track “I Know” in a concurrently playing video. It’s sort of a deep cut for 50jitsteppa and sort of mystifying. I’d like to imagine it’s…
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A Note from the Editor-In-Chief
When people say spring has sprung, they actually mean it has emerged from inside itself. Spring has ejected from its own abdomen through a lovely, vulvic little déchirure in the side. The whole thing sounded exactly like you’d think it would. A sloughing, whining sound then a slap. The spring’s lying there with its limbs…
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A Note from the Editor-In-Chief
The other week, a dealer–who up until this point had seemed demure and cryptically cosmopolitan in this very European way–messaged me, “In years past, I had everything all the time.” Me and my friends laughed for a while. Then, things got quiet, and we spent the evening very sober. The Nass “Drug Issue” split off…
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Sorry About the Air Conditioners Being Off: Townes Van Zandt, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Aesthetic Signatures of Heat
A Nass writer sweats through readings of some outlaw country tunes and a splatter horror classic
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Letter from the Editor
My summer vacation felt like a body. Mine felt like a river. It’s generally useful to build up a number of unreasonably applicable metaphors that seem to withdraw profundity from just about everything. It’s the only way you’ll produce what we could call meaning from something as acrid and mercurial as summer. You can best…
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Tales from the Village of Hommlet
“When I was young, I plunged a fork through Reason’s knee, and smote her atop a hill with electrical pylons.”
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Escaping the Werewolf: Alex G, Deep Ecology, and Our Increasingly Hostile World
“There are a million wolves hiding in the environmental substrate I’ve called speargrass. The reality is that they’re not even wolves. When they get home in the evening, they take off the wolfskin and look just like us.”
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In Search of an American Original in Friday the 13th and Sleepaway Camp
A pair of Nass writers look for the Original across a pair of movies that have more than a dozen sequels between them
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A Note from the Editor-In-Chief
CW: suicide It’s an unfortunate structural reality that the Nass appears in print about two weeks after we collect the content that makes up the magazine. Enough time elapses to generally inhibit committed journalistic work or timely commentary on campus happenings. Not to excuse the things the Nass sleepwalks through. Or to excuse the miserable,…
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We Added 200 Strangers on BeReal, and We’re Never Opening the App Again
“Hypothesis: people our age around the world are alone during a significant portion of their waking hours. And hypothetically, BeReal is the perfect observational device.”