Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

- Stevie Smith

Dear Nintendo,

We need a new Mario game, where you rescue the princess in the first ten minutes, and for the rest of the game you try and push down that sick feeling in your stomach that she’s “damaged goods”, a concept detailed again and again in the profoundly sex negative instruction booklet, and when Luigi makes a crack about her and Bowser, you break his nose and immediately regret it. When Peach asks you, in the quiet of her mushroom castle bedroom “do you still love me?” you pretend to be asleep. You press the A button rhythmically, to control your breath, keep it even. – Joey Comeau

Less less less.

Idag vill jag inte bo i Cardiff. Idag har foralskelsen mattats av. Jag ar less pa hela grejen. Jag ar trott pa smutsen, drogerna, kriminaliteten. Jag langtar efter rena, fina, sakra Orebro. Jag vill cykla genom Stadparken och ata mammas kanelbullar.

Det ar deprimerande. Men saklart vet jag att efter en manad i Orebro skulle det verkligen klia i mig att komma darifran. Sa fragan ar var jag kan aka som ar naganstans mitt i mellan?