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Deeply personal and highly irreverent.
Source: https://filmobsessingmightjustbethenewcrazy.wordpress.com/2015/05/21/lost-children/

I was once a lonesome teenager with a colossal crush that sustained me for an entire year. I was completely, totally, wholeheartedly in love with Rory Culkin, the youngest Culkin brother.

The summer I fell in love with Rory, I was 17. I had a Black Lips CD in my paint-chipped Chevy, and escape on my mind with NYU on the horizon. I agreed to go out with a relatively popular guy, someone I met at a party with greasy blonde hair. Everyone knew him, even people who didn’t go to his high school, so I agreed, even though there…


We’ve all heard it. We’ve all done it. I’m not talking about burping loudly, or some other bodily noise that’s somehow more acceptable than this “epidemic”, as it’s been referred to as. I’m talking about the low vocal register that occurs typically when you run out of air at the end of a sentence. Vocal fryyyy.

Men have it, women have it, and it in no way damages your vocal cords, according to Johns Hopkins.

But it allegedly threatens your opportunities in the workforce, particularly if you’re a women. According to Science.org, researchers made the discovery after 800 participants…


In this series I examine internet trends and fads that captured my interest for better or for worse before my brain fully developed.

90’S NOSTALGIA! Also, Teenage Angst.

When I was 16, I read RookieMag. Obviously. I love Tavi Gevinson. I have taste. Rookie exposed me to feminism, Freaks and Geeks, and Jordan Catalano. There is absolutely no question that Rookie played an integral role in my development as a human being. Rookie also led me to…90s nostalgia. As did my Tumblr. Heroin Chic was revived, and I listened to PETE DOHERTY. I even wanted a Libertine tattoo at one…


AAPI

Somehow I managed to drag myself out of bed this morning to go to therapy and talk about my recently dead grandfather and my biracial identity, then subsequently pulled off the equally impressive feat of transitioning from the table to the couch, where I promptly wrapped myself in a blanket and online shopped for two hours.

It’s been a hard morning, for myself and many, many others.

Although my writing may suggest otherwise, I’m not a big fan of public emotional processing. Everything I write about is something I’ve already worked through. Old wounds are good stories. …


Mariana (Bathroom) by Ryan McGinley, 1998

I applied my makeup very carefully before I attempted suicide. I put on dark red lipstick and blotted to give it a “I just drank blood,” effect. My eyeliner was smudged slightly, but my eyelashes were curled in the perfect C shape. I wasn’t going to go out with the chin acne and bare eyes vulnerable to the world, even posthumously.

The two bottles of wine I’d stolen from the liquor store on the mesa, the ones I’d shoved into my tote bag behind the neglectful cashier’s back because I forgot my fake ID, had been left uncorked for a…


By Ryan McGinley

The further removed I am from myself and what I’m familiar with, the more I notice how other people behave and how they see the world. The saving grace in a new and frightening city is recognizing fierce excitement in the eyes of others. I’m always looking for that same expression, the one that suggests a hurricane-like intensity that will blow me away.

There’s a short story about New York City by Andrew Holleran in which he writes:

“Imagine a pleasure in which the moment of satisfaction is simultaneous with the moment of destruction.”

Although I still search for that…


I have 229 playlists on Spotify. I have an obsessive desire to categorize my music based on tone, theme (Clever NOFX Lyrics, for example), and story arc. I have morning playlists, shower playlists, Best Of playlists, The Movie Soundtrack To My Life playlists, Charlie Kaufman Movie Montage playlists, and songs matched with songs the artist sampled playlists.

Making a playlist for a friend is a way of saying, “This is what you represent to me.” It’s not corny or even romantic most of the time. It’s putting a person to music and attaching those songs to them. I’ve been told…


For a long time my personal style was the controversially named heroin chic. I wanted to be as unapologetic as Courtney Love or Kate Moss hanging out a window with Pete Doherty holding onto her. I was deeply fascinated by these grimy cultural moments in sartorial history, but it never truly resonated with me or my lifestyle.

So began a journey to merge my style with my cultural influences–but this time with a focus on the absurd rather than the cracked out.

Who else to turn to then but the man behind my favorite Twitter account? I interviewed fashion icon…


This could be the movie of your life with the right playlist!

Walking down the street in New York City is never dull! The other day I saw a pack of college dudes carrying six 30 racks, a guy shitting on 2nd Avenue, and a mouse running from a cockroach. But sometimes the sounds of wind blowing through the trees, laughter, and upbeat conversations can be a little draining.

So instead, here’s the best songs to walk to that’ll make you feel as though a Safdie brother is going to pop out and ask you to speak with a more deadpan voice.

Clair de Lune, №3 — Claude Debussy, Isao Tomita

This interested remake on a piano classic is melancholy and…


READY 2 GO

What could be more thrilling than driving for hours in the middle of nowhere, tagging abandoned rock quarries, having a run-in with a biker gang, and skating in Bam Margera’s home town of West Chester, PA, all while following a convoluted Atlas Obscura map? Doing all of the above while dressed like you’re in a Gregg Araki film and also pretending to be Edie Sedgwick.

Molly Guillermo

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