It has been brought to our attention that one of you, no need to mention who, has already lost his pledge pin. pledges, this is unacceptable. for this you will be raped as an example to the other pledges. as is customary, a few of us will convene to elect a team of 9 brothers that will systematically but ruthlessly run train on your brown ass. subsequently, you will be beaten with an extension chord [sic] at our discretion. i think it goes without saying that the ceremonies will conclude with the wearing of the persian eye
goggles, i.e. the resting of our scrotums over your eyes. if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to go and fuck yourself.
Overheard on a certain fraternity email list
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Apocalypse (Maybe Not) Now?
“At some point lightning flashed big and bold across the sky. It was the first time in forever that the sky was anything other than that neverendin’ black, and I had to close my eyes to keep from being blinded.”
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We need to arrête
We need to arrête all of this liquid: bridges lawns psets towels gmail caffeine with the face of a dog barking in the north courtyard alongside teeth digging into flesh like that subtle ascent of adjectives you called psafe on because everyday is comme ci comme ça let us turn…
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After zooming out
After zooming out this afternoon that held focused possibilities like a hand reaching into the backlit arteries of a bokeh I filtered my reflections through your shutter and tore off Fuji film rolls from your skin still considering supposed leaps of faith, oh that stupid obsession of yours, the way Wong Kar-wai …
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MetaStasis
“The motto of metastasis is ‘saving humanity from humanity.’ He claims that metastasis is a necessary process, ‘a way for individuals to shed their old selves and evolve into something greater.’”
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A Jaanipäev Night’s Dream
“Simeon stuffs a cool mint Zyn under his top lip. Is he lost? I ask him what his favorite movie is. Anything Woody Allen.”
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On Being Selfish
A Nass writer tries their hardest to beat or maybe just to live with Peter Singer’s selfishness argument.
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A Memento of Nintendo
When one thinks of a ‘game,’ hears its notes playing and effects sounding, Like a pot smashing or a brick bashing, When one smells a game, The cellophane of a case, or the rubber of an analog stick, When one touches it, feeling that red cap, that blazing helmet, that fluffy puff of pink, So…
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What’s Under That Rock? Full Design
We’re writing poetry, watching Dune, and having problematic relationships with moms. Take a look. Find a copy around campus, or click the link here to view the full design!
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Where are all the dogs?
“I have been very quiet this past month, save for when I call mother and we talk about things like where all the dogs are.”
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