Recent Consumption

It’s been a minute but who knows if anyone even reads this so let’s get on with it, shall we?

1. Space Sweepers (2021)

Fun Korean sci-fi adventure. It gets a little convoluted in the end but is quite enjoyable overall. Future Earth is trashed and those not super rich can only reach space via employment as orbital trash collectors (the titular space sweepers), where they find corrupt corporate machinations constantly working against them. Our protagonists are one such crew, who stumble upon a child the mega-corp very much wants for nefarious reasons. Hijinks, as they say, ensue.

The best review I read may spoil some plot but if you’re so inclined, it’s short and you can find it here.

2. Anna von Hausswolff: Dead Magic

Would I be me if I didn’t recommend you some death gospel, as some kids are supposedly calling it? I could sum this album up as rock meets progressive organ meets melancholy folk or you could go listen to it yourself.

3. Mosul (2019)

Based on the stories of a Mosul, Iraq SWAT team known for their brutal campaign against ISIS, this film follows the team as they pick up a new member while continuing an unauthorized mission. Expect the military detail and brutality of something like Black Hawk Down but from the Iraqi perspective, as they fight through the city smashed by the realities of modern urban warfare.

Famous Faces from Mr Band

Recent Consumption

1st preserved dinosaur butthole is ‘perfect’ and ‘unique,’ paleontologist says: Yup.

I tested the dumbest PPE of all time – the Rich Guy COVID Helmet: I wish these were cheap so we could all run around playing Daft Punk/astronaut and not give a shit if they break or suck because they will and do.

Twitter thread about an old Japanese PC game “where you start a band and have to recruit members, make some recordings and live a life of sex, drugs and rock’n’roll… After recording you need mixing the song, then your friend Bob Marley sells your CDs on the street, or play it on the radio”

You know, your friend Bob Marley, who sells your CDs on the street. Just like a real rock star.

Recent Consumption

Right, so, that putsch on Wednesday kinda messed up my intention of keeping interesting, at least with regard to what I’m enjoying, but here’s a few jams.

Emma Ruth Rundle: Marked For Death

There’s some sort of (sub-?)genre of music that is raw rocking, kinda folky, occasionally metallic, typically morose and gloomy that I only recently realized is a whole grouping of its own that I’m apparently way into. Rundle’s presence sounds full and cutting, even with mostly her electric guitar and voice driving the show.

To be honest, I am struggling to describe her well without sounding like a pretentious ass and resorting to terminology like “death gospel” or “experimental dark folk” but she’s on Bandcamp so it’s incredibly easy for you to give her a listen yourself.

Zamilska: UNDONE and Uncovered

You may have noted my previous mention of Ruiner’s “absolutely banging industrial soundtrack.” Zamilska is a big part of that. UNDONE holds several of Ruiner’s tracks and Uncovered, a newer release (2019), will also punch you in the face in the good way.

Spaniards in the Snow

A Twitter thread of videos from Madrid, where residents are enjoying the largest snowfall in over six decades. Highlights include epic snowball fights, surprisingly detailed snow dicks, skiing by car, and a tyrannosaurus rex (of course).

Still from Ruiner: Cyborg man with "kill you" repeatedly displayed on a digital mask

Recent Consumption

Recent media consumption to kick off 2021:

1. Ruiner

An isometric shooter from 2017 with a cyberpunk theme and an absolutely banging industrial soundtrack. Considering a recent high-profile cyberpunk-themed game released from another Polish developer, you might think I accidentally bought the wrong game, but the truth is I’ve been meaning to grab this game for a while and certainly have some time while that bigger fish works out its kinks and I wait for any 4k-under-1k GPU to become actually obtainable.

I was initially thinking to grab this on Xbone, as it has the look of a game that would feel better on a console, but for whatever reason ending up buying it on PC. I’m certainly glad I did, as it’s much easier to play with a keyboard and mouse (aim with mouse, move with keyboard) versus the controller I initially tried. I might just be bad at this stuff now, I don’t know.

2. Competing streaming service year-end comedy specials

Netflix has Death to 2020, Amazon has Yearly Departed. They both made me laugh.

3. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)

I thought I hadn’t seen it in order or maybe just not in a while but actually I think I somehow completely missed this film until recently. It’s good, you don’t need me to tell you.

That’s all I got for now!


As usual these days, my attention is completely frayed. Every interesting thing I find online that can be distilled into a URL gets thrown into Pocket, everything else into a note in some capacity in my notes app du jour. Surprisingly, I have begun to make some progress in getting through what’s there, although I must confess that a good chunk of that is the filtration of later: Deletion either because I haven’t read it yet and therefore probably never will or it was of temporal relevance and that temporal relevance has faded enough. Sometimes I saved links to share later on whatever social network, intending to write a blurb of introduction that will make you care, this grandiose idea that I am some latent maker-of-giving-shits, but really you just won’t be inconvenienced by being pulled away from your feed (and that is the feed’s design, like how AOL1 angled to be your curated world-ish wide web instead of a phone number that opened the gate2). That is, if you are even at all interested in what I happen to think is interesting, which you probably aren’t because why would you be? I shouldn’t care.

With the end of the year approaching and at some point after that, a presumable end to the pandemic in the form of various revolutionary mRNA-based vaccines, I am suddenly filled with the urge to make some progress on items of personal worth even if no one else will ever know. It’s no one else knowing that actually makes me feel better; I used to not care so firmly, the very idea of external acknowledgement of any accomplishment feels antithetical to real content. I’m stuck in some weird place between not caring at all and caring about everything. It’s weird and awkward and I don’t like it but I think I’m starting to shed it.

My attention is definitely frayed though because I had some idea of what point I was trying to make with this and not only have I not made it but I don’t even remember what it was.


It has a difficult time focusing on anything at this point. Nothing it sees will focus. It tries to squint but it doesn’t have muscles to squish together and doesn’t have eyes to squish anything around. Nothing is in focus but it keeps trying, in waves. Trying constantly is difficult, so it tries for a while, then lets go, but eventually, frustrated by the lack of clarity, tries again for another while.

Sound is much the same, every bit as unfocused and taxing to try to reign in. It hears voices that it’s sure are very near but sound muffled. It hears women, men, and others. Some of the women sound kind. Some of the women sound sharp. Some barely make a sound. All of the men sound worried. Some of the men sound like they usually don’t sound worried and aren’t sure how to sound now that their wall of self confidence is breaking down.

Moving through all these recognizably human voices are others. It hears guttural chattering and growling and high-pitched screeching. The other sounds, like the voices of the women and men, are impossible to focus on, but it doesn’t try as hard because it thinks it wouldn’t understand these voices. The other voices seem to flow back and forth through the recognizably woman and man voices. Sometimes the other voices are right in front of it, sometimes farther back in the distance. Sometimes it sounds like the other voices are having a conversation with a woman or a man but it thinks this is a coincidence because the other voices are too different.

The air is thick with stimulation. So much that it’s impossible to discern a particular aroma or taste. It tries not to even pay attention to the air but sometimes it has no choice. There are traces of tastes, scents that feel familiar, but before it can place one, it’s overwhelmed with another, or a voice, or something that almost looks like something.

On a rare occasion, it manages to turn the volume down on all of this and realizes there’s nothing else. It doesn’t feel hot nor cold. It doesn’t feel anywhere in between hot and cold. It feels nothing but not the absence of something. It thinks this lack of sensation dimly familiar but knows it impossible to place. It thinks it might have thought this before. It’s frustrated for a time but tries to focus on the voices or sights again and this gives it a wholly different type of frustration. It doesn’t know how long its experience has been this.

It has a hand, sort of, and there is someone holding it. It has no idea if this is new.

A kind voice speaks clear enough to understand. “You can pick one.”

Before it stands a woman, almost middle aged. Her face has the definition of someone it thinks is “aging gracefully.” She is thin and tall and smells of food. Her hair is long and black. It notices a strand hanging in front of her face, swaying slightly. Her skin is brown and it thinks is she is quite beautiful but can’t get a read on her beyond that. It feels like it should be able to know more and tugs at the hand to continue. It becomes aware of the space around it.

It is a bright space. The floor is tiled and old but clean in a way it thinks implies regular cleaning with more vigor than concern. The walls are white and clean but it thinks that’s because no one ever touches them. Above it, there is too much brightness to see anything, so it keeps looking ahead. It has had enough of not being able to focus. The next woman has a nose like a bird and it finds this amusing.

“I have never been a bird,” it says.
“It’s not too late,” says the kind voice.
“I would like to be a proper bird if I am going to be a bird but I don’t want to be a proper bird.”

It walks, almost feeling like it has legs for the first time. It looks up after a few steps, suddenly aware of how much shorter it is than the woman before it and how much shorter it was than the last two women. It is immediately caught by this woman’s hair, a shade of orange so light the bright space almost devours it. The woman’s skin is pale with freckles that it thinks would match the hair if it weren’t so bright in this space. She is alarmingly young.

“She will need help.”

The kind voice says nothing.

“I will help her.”
“Did you want to keep looking?”

It’s vision becomes a blur again but the light is going out. There are no other voices, no murmurs, just the regular thud of something nearby growing louder. The sound is comforting. There’s a rush of warmth and fluid, such that it feels this was always there but never noticed. It’s hands and legs feel real. It is floating. There is a rush of memories it didn’t know it had. Soothing voices, shouting, the pressure of touch from beyond. The experience feels familiar, then less so, then it doesn’t know why it thought this was familiar in the first place. It’s completely dark. There is a combination of worried and calm voices exchanging. It feels pulled but it doesn’t know if up or down. It doesn’t know which way is up or which down. There’s a sliver of light above its head, then more, and the voices are clearer but their language foreign. The comforting warmth drops away. It is harshly cold and loud. The voices are so clear, like giants screaming, but nothing they say makes any sense. Pinpoints of warmth appear on the back of its head and body, which it registers only for a moment before pondering it has a head and a body. There is a blinding light and a fuzzy fabric and a liquid different than what it just knew. This liquid is not as comforting but not wholly objectionable. There is a sharp sensation. It does not like it. Without thinking, it screams, wails, and cries. There is a cold feeling on an extremity of its body. It doesn’t know why but this extremity isn’t truly part of it and now it’s gone. The fuzz is warm and all over now except on its face, which is only recognizes as having because it’s not covered. There is swaying movement. Its senses are overloaded in a completely different way. It smells sterile and bodily at the same time. It hears distressed voices turning to calm. It is warm and nice again. Before it, there is a woman. The woman is the woman it chose only moments ago. It wants to tell her “don’t worry.” It wants to tell her “I am here to help you.” It can’t. It has no idea how to move its mouth. It has no idea how to make a sound, even though it knows it screamed only moments ago. It has no idea how to do that again.

The woman is smiling and close. Her face is gigantic. It feels her hands holding its tiny body. Its body is so tiny, it thinks. It wants to tell the woman how remarkable this experience is. It wants to tell the woman that she’s gigantic and it’s small and the bright light from above almost devours her hair the way the light did when it chose her. It can’t speak. It has no idea. All of this overwhelming want to communicate fades and it looks at the woman. It loves her so much and she loves it so much. She will protect it and take care of it, it knows, and in return it will make her happier than she knows and eventually it will take care of her and protect her.