excuse me master roshi's shades are prescription (-4.5R/-4.0L)

objectively considered, trader joe's, a pirate-themed grocer of stoner treats staffed by perpetually chipper and aloha-shirted youths, is one of america's most pynchonian institutions

yesterday, i accidentally bought banana soy milk, today, i accidentally put it in my coffee; tragedy, farce, etc.

strutting around in my big, beige sack dress and feeling like hot shit until i see another woman in an even bigger and beiger sack dress; what the hell, now the day is ruined

we still call devo 'new wave' despite whip it coming out 45 years ago

no one is questioning whether the concept exists, they are discussing its malleable borders; is that level of nuance too much for you?

experimenting with listening to hella and doing push-ups

spotted outside koenji station: four young men, twenty beers between them, hyping up a fifth young man to 'just get the baby wolf cut' because 'summer's coming, but you'll be feeling fresh and flirty'

어느새 by Jang Pill Soon on Qobuz open.qobuz.com/track/220186...

mexico, where my classmate had spent the first four years of his six-year life, is the only real mexico; this new one, if it actually exists, which it probably doesn't, must be some weak false mexico the teacher conjured up to make it a round 50, a number which, for us, already seemed impossibly big

a ceramics studio and, directly across the narrow street, a lifting gym; for months, each time circumstances place me between them i am alert to the possibility until, one day, it happens: a woman exits one and, still wiping the slick from her hands, enters the other

just one year in tokyo has burdened my consciousness with a libidinal desire for tired salary women wearing nothing but sensible office attire and a demeanor of aloof competence

that's not true

a stern sense of stewardship sweetened with an almost gestational yearning to nurture, powerul feelings of care, which, my friend attests, have bloomed, sua sponte, in response to, and, with atavistic urgency, are dutifully directed toward, the sleazy little moustache he decided to grow

almost no one ever makes this argument; it's always a variation of the education/refinement/discovery through doing argument; think you're boxing shadows to flatter yourself here

the point of onerous taxes on billionaires is to curtail the power distortions that come from excessive accumulation of private wealth, the budget stuff is just a bonus; at least show you understand the argument

that's the joke

they don't have to change their minds, but economics is sort of a cloistered discipline and the economics that's covered in the press is extremely narrow in its methods and content; plenty experts in other social science disciplines make similar arguments, seems valid

ever read the opening chapters of Ubik?

this person seems unhappy you're photographing them, why would you put it on the internet

thinking about trading in my old omafiets for a mama-chari

that's our Jucika!

expand on this notion of downwardly mobile gentrifier

spotted at the small and austere neighborhood park: four young men share a bench, heads bowed phoneward, and, across the gravel lot facing them, on a second, opposing bench: four young women, similarly arranged, but, heads ups and alert, they watch the boys intently; the whole scene dead silent

nishi-ogikubo quickly gaining dominance in the Chuo Line neighborhood power rankings

lol

at the bar doing a perfect impression of that telekinetic little girl from stalker but no one is impressed? everyone is annoyed and mad?

tokyo's iconic green payphones are slowly going extinct, but here in the back streets of Akihabara, a small, dedicated community of 'tele-perverts' are trying to save them with an intensive program of human-phone interbreeding

her latest book, a slim volume of personal essays and cultural criticism, has been hailed by fans as 'sub-debordian verso slop'

those covers are bad but they're not really corporate Memphis at all