I Watch Esports For the Plot

"It's better in the app!"

i know how to make art……….. i LIKE making art………. making art is fun……………. i feel fulfilled when i make art……………………..

Every year The Internet Archive hosts a competion to make art using newly public domain materials, and I've been losing my mind at this submission:

"In the ‘60s one either believed that America was being greened or that America was being morally defoliated. You either believed that this was the dawning of the age of Aquarius or you believed that we were on the eve of destruction. I sometimes think that the most malignant aspect of the period was the extent to which everyone dealt exclusively in symbols. Certain artifacts were understood to denote something other than themselves, something supposedly abstract; some positive or negative moral value. And whether the artifact was positively or negatively charged depended not on any objective reality at all but on where you stood, where the polarization had thrown you. Marijuana was a symbol. Long hair was of course a symbol, and so was short hair. Natural foods were a symbol – rice, seaweed, raw milk, the whole litany. I found myself in situations during the late ‘60s where my refusal to give my baby unpasteurized milk was construed as evidence that I must be “on the other side.” Probably an undercover. In fact, it meant nothing except that I had grown up around farms and I had known children who got tuberculosis and brucellosis from drinking raw milk. But this was a period in which everything was understood to have some moral freight, some meaning beyond itself. And in fact, nothing did; that was the peculiarity of the decade. In a way it was very touching, this whole society so starved for meaning that it made totems out of meaningless artifacts. The whole country was like a cargo cult. But it was also very destructive. Because nothing meant what it was supposed to mean."

If your lover lives in Hong Kong and cannot get to Chicago, it will be necessary for you to go to Hong Kong. Perhaps you will spend your life there, and never see Chicago again. And you will, I assure you, as long as space and time divide you from anyone you love, discover a great deal about shipping routes, airlines, earthquake, famine, disease, and war. And you will always know what time it is in Hong Kong, for you love someone who lives there. And love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time and, furthermore, to win.

& how when we left there was a white-haired lady, funny in the parking lot, feeding pigeons with the bread from her fanny pack, in front of a big truck she paid no attention to though it was waiting for her to move & my eyes caught a flood & I turned looking for someone who would understand I’d just seen my angel throwing bread down to the pigeons just kindly, slowly. & you, without my saying a thing, as if you heard the chest its joy & cardinal, you said yeah, just that. How marvelous. Ordinary. To get to see & turn around, & know somebody else was seeing, too. One day it will be otherwise. I always meant to thank you for that. Thank you. What is close to my heart is that woman, that city, you, that noon on the dry land dressed in pigeons & daylight, the dry land dressed in our brief lives, our lives brief & miraculous, as the bees.