animalitoinexpresivo:

Me, by Laura Rosal*

Ryder Ripps, creator of dump.fm (I believe?) and conceptual artist, who has made websites for artists including M.I.A. and who recently did a performance art thing of tweeting-ideas-while-chugging-Red-Bulls for Red Bull with the hashtag #hypercurrentliving, thinks “Alt Lit” is “retarded.” 

THE NEATO MOSQUITO ALT LIT FIREWORKS SHOW: nature poem →

sarahjeanalex:

neatomosquitoaltlitfireworksshow:

we’re here
i’m alone with you in capital letters

through the window a tall crane builds new things in the distance

we’re here
realise that it’s perfect to be allowed to like things together

i hit the lampshade with a towel
dust and dead mosquitos fall
and us here in all of it
in london
quiet dancing

realise that part of me
is already haunting every mcdonalds i’ve ever been in
and part of you
is already haunting every place you’ve ever kissed me
so yes you are haunting my collarbone

we’re here
quiet dancing in london still
you are like a tulip when there are tulips behind you and i can’t decide what you’re like

realise that i would like to fuck a mountain of you
yes you are haunting my kneebacks
yes you are haunting my chest through my tshirt at night
yes you are haunting all 360° of some shitty ferris wheel

we’re here
realise that at every moment you’re the only visible part of an almost infinite conga line
ok now imagine crying while wearing shorts it’s hard to do

tonight we share a moon
toothpaste
this blue-orange night sky

we’ve stopped quiet dancing in london now
i’m alone with you with a crane in the distance
congratulations
tonight our lives will change 0% in every direction

so let’s move to the country
you can grow back your eyebrows
and i can wear a vest for the first time
and you can point at a chicken and laugh
and i can punch a flower and it is ok
and you can say the most interesting thing about me is that i like you so much
and i can put my body high up in a tree and wait
and you can thank me for all the butterflies we saw today
and i can say ‘you are all of the butterflies’ as you try to count
and you can cry dreaming that we had a baby and i made you dress her in one ugg and one croc
and i can look at you pointing at a chicken and laughing and point at a chicken and laugh with you
and you can cry missing distant fireworks
and i can be a tourist in so much of you
and you can hold a tiny leaf and say “leaflet”
and i can listen to a crow talk and it is beautiful music
and you can fall in love with quiet forest water noises in this forest
and i can like animals and you are one
and you can cry missing your exboyfriend everytime you poop out an undigested sweetcorn kernel
and i can almost lodge an axe in my shin trying to chop wood
and you can look at our knees and feet all in the grass while i sleep
and i can touch a mushroom and imagine being a mushroom
and you can put your face close to moss and breathe
and i can say “this is my only life these are my only teeth”
and you can say “this is your only knee” and kick me in the knee
and i can push the hard on the west side of a tree and you’re welcome i’m turning planet earth right now
and you can see a quiet frog looking up at a nebula and it is an excellent beast
and i can wear the fuck out of some scarves with you
and you can wear the fuck out of some scarves with me
and i can smile watching mist being mist
and you can put dark berries near your lips and then on the ground instead
and i can lodge an axe in my shin trying to chop wood
and you can look at a sad-seeming badger and say “wow that is the world’s horniest badger”
and i can blink watching lightning connect a sycamore to a sky
and you can stab a bonfire with a branch and think “yes sir i am hurting this fucking fire”
and i can put my body high up in a tree and wait
and you can tell me “don’t worry your sadness isn’t going anywhere you can come back to it later let’s just be alright together awhile”
and i can get drunk and touch your ribs a lot while you are trying to sleep
and you can brush my teeth for me
and i can smile as my gums are bleeding in our two man tent
and you can put your hand around my bare wrist and say “wow i hate your bracelet”
and i can smell like fuck up moths
and you can touch my hairs when i’m sad and say “always remember sombre is only two letters away from sombrero”
and i can look at geese and wow they are so very geese in the rain
and you can cry missing fresh donuts
and bugs will find us again and again
we will wear bugs at night
and bugs will wear us too

woods
look at us
woods we are in you now

these stinging nettles are beautiful and how we are lying in them too

i am alone with you in capital letters
kiss my legs in an orchard
i will kiss yours
too
_
Crispin Best

http://issue4.popserial.net/best/

crispin

apparently Crispin Best’s “nature poem” was too great to wait for. it has leaked via Chris Dankland. i love this poem, check it

"The Gimmicks of American Apparel vs. the Gimmicks of Urban Outfitters" →

(Source: muumuuhouse)

animalitoinexpresivo:

Le Garage TV a few months ago. 

sarahjeanalex:

Closet Piece, from Grapefruit by Yoko Ono

liefplus:

heath ison is a sick fuck, and i am sick fuck, so wen we sleep in the same home, it called sick fuck sleepver

matthewgallaway:

I wrote a book report on Tao Lin’s new novel, Taipei, which I enjoyed a lot. 

(via 19841979)

“

I do think that Pop Serial is perhaps the most damaging thing in the Community right now […]

Pop Serial does not accept submissions and this comes across in mostly negative ways: the content is tired, it is off putting to most in the community, the brand is toxic via knowing, smug, promotional stratagems.

But yet it appears above critique for the most part. Why?

I think the person who runs Pop Serial is very fortunate to have an HistORical connection to Steve.

”