• Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar

    Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar


    Florida True-Bloo. To an extent, this is another 'Spot-The-SNL-Member' with more niche cringe-comedic setting, but the better halves of Barb and Star are their separation from the Monty and Michaels House. Not as dirty as it is forwardly non-childlike, but not as mocking as it is idyllic. As a Floridian, I can confirm this is what Floridians like to think the state is.

  • Mass Hysteria

    Mass Hysteria


    Your mother’s Mumblegore Moment. Though stripped of the total aesthetic skin of the Salem panic-culture from way back, the nodding punchline persists that the witch trials and witch hunts are created by a common trait: Stupidity.

  • Black Girl

    Black Girl


    Misogynoir compacted into a slow boiling head-rearing of the raw bias within many homebound establishments. A speedrun of the societal rage, the special kind that's introspective in tempests of disappointment and survival, that is spun through by static through the door. Staring eyes that reduce the heartful to a type. Not many things are as imaginably difficult as to work in a space where ignorance is cutting the checks.

  • Messiah of Evil

    Messiah of Evil


    A brisk blowback of urbotropic randoms and wall canvas broke off by door frames. This could be apt as leaner genre exercise but the well of thoughts, miraculously in Cali heat, is not even close to single or dry. Contextually a walkthrough of untraced dreams, premonitions in low and high tide that are full of grief without verification, but optically siren sung, in same measures iridescent and radiant. All colors here are all colors the brain makes up to process.

  • Come True

    Come True


    Illuminatory through pixel-fried technology stasis. The computer screens have dense layers, the walls have cascades of single brushstrokes, the air has pores. An entire movie speckled with digital pollen. It hints at something Cronenbergian but doesn’t have the validity or interpersonal respect to balance its lecherous traits. The point between being risky and being out of bounds is a clear one and this basically passes it. At least somewhere here, there is obviously an amazing sleep paralysis deep diver waiting.

  • The Legend of Baron To'a

    The Legend of Baron To'a


    Continuing the line you thought forgotten. In a lot of ways, I feel fascination and joy for the earnestness and nightshade here. All types of longing and homeward continuation, the shared sorrow and love of legacy, expressed in flashy Kick-Em-Up hype sequences. Every little chip and splinter of this happy memory is firing out from twin tongues spitting fire-crackers and powder. From the beginning, you already feel the love.

  • Rot



    Genital-out Darkness For a Dime from top to bottom. All sorts of odd members, deformed ends, dirty patches of skin and sex and blood and tissue. Stick with it and there are spontaneous infection-highs almost everywhere you look. Money is important for a lot of people, but allow this to prove that all you need is a very, very gross imagination.

  • Shadow in the Cloud

    Shadow in the Cloud


    The high flying New America concepts, the ones of booming industry and fantastical, often imperial, factory narratives bottled up with the classic Serling and the more modern formal ideas. We remember these similar gremlin tales from a distant past, confined from the outside and expanded from within to enforce senses of invasion apt for their time, but this is spiritually reminiscent while firing off into a squally wave of action and reaction. Surrounded and entirely self-reliant. In a couple years, this could possibly be a genre go-to, as it certainly should.

  • The Films of Nanny Lynn

    The Films of Nanny Lynn


    Nanny Lynn Videos, a phrase of magic so distant from the Candle Cove backdrops that I grew up with. It has the makings of any serious ARG (mysterious poster, unknown/uncreditable source, nightmare forum lore) yet is persistently deeper than the campfire gimmickry. If it's a simple horror project, than the dedication to appearing unnerving is phenomenal, since the audio was clearly done in one sitting and there are at least six different moments where the All-Knowing Narrator sounds like they're about to vomit or weep. This is almost unbelievable. Don't watch it after dinner.

  • Ganjasaurus Rex

    Ganjasaurus Rex


    Reaganomics proved, among many things, that The War on Drugs would be a perennial artistic background on levels both mainstream and substream. The underground was shifted, and underground art could be presumed to not be excluded from the euthanizing of media taboos if this were the only title to go by. While the idea of a balloony Godzilla bong-rip is very enticing, the Ganjasaurus in its current form is obviously either made by the market to dilute or expressed safely to avoid dilution. Roll one for the bizarre this could've been.

  • He Was Once

    He Was Once


    The Pee-Wee Complex remade into an odd little Rabies-Rodent that masturbates in adult theaters. More wooden than silica, more cultism than orthodoxia, irremissibly inhuman while pretending to mimic humanity as shown and discussed out of the comic strips. Contrary to whatever midnight television allusion you could bring up for this, none of this could be found on [adult swim] or MTV, nor any antenna networking. I can't fathom *where* this would come from, and that is marvelous.

  • Deseret



    A "Richard Ramirez Died Today of Natural Causes" attitude. 'What a picture' applies here, but quite figuratively and presentationally as this is a motile collection of U.S. passages, too static to be dynamic but too multivocative to be a slideshow. Rivers funneling spring water where drops of skin from a death row inmate fell into, electrocuted down the county line. Prairies with broken glass littered around that surely got some tourists fined. I could peruse this for hours and see, believe, digest, and imagine all sorts of Dust Bowl canvases. Entrancing for whoever will sit with it.