Vermis doesn’t insist on meaning. It creates the conditions for it, then steps aside.
Vermis doesn’t insist on meaning. It creates the conditions for it, then steps aside.
Die My Love exists in that awkward half-space between looking good and actually being good.
I dare you to find anything in your life that you love with even half the obsessive, granular devotion Warren Zanes brings to Nebraska.
It’s fun. It’s exhausting. And if that contradiction bothers you, congratulations: you’ve finally understood tech death.
The popularity of Taylor Swift, stratospheric, omnipresent, and somehow still expanding, rests on a principle she no longer seems to understand or care about: what she doesn’t say matters infinitely more than what she does.
Where I tell you whether your parents were right to tell you not to watch it (because they obviously never did).
You don’t just read Pynchon. You enter a hall of mirrors built by a man who refuses to show his face even when it’s "supposed" to be easy.
It doesn’t sound like doom and it doesn’t sound like folk; it sounds like the slow formation of something that shouldn’t exist but somehow does.
The first political thriller where everyone’s both right and wrong (and that’s the point).
