holy shit, it’s Ready Player One for race scientists
He was giving knight errant, organ-meat eater, Byronic hero, Haplogroup Rlb. She was giving damsel in distress, pill-popper pixie dream girl, Haplogroup K. He was in his fall of Rome era. She was serving sixth and final mass extinction event realness. His face was a marble statue. Her face was an anime waifu. They scrolled into each other. If they could have, they would have blushed, pink pixels on a screen. Monkey covering eyes emoji. Anime nosebleed GIF. Henlo frend. hiii.
Here’s The Cut puff piece on Levy which just mentions in passing her podcast with Curtis Yarvin.
anyway, nice to know they’re still trying to make Dimes Square a thing
What pushes Levy’s stories beyond being merely on the level of smart magazine essays is the empathy you can sense below the starkness of her sentences. A typical observation: “When I’m at a party and I look across the room I can see everyone holding their red Solo cups and hurting.”
“When I am at a party, I feel like nobody understands me,” said the voice of a generation.
One character is nearly canceled when, on a college radio station, she says, “Trigger warnings trigger me.”
2014 sent a Vine; they want their joke back.
Generations no longer understand one another because we haven’t been injected with the same memes.
“Marvy. Fab. Far out,” deadpanned Calvin’s father.
I’m imagining a Dorothy Parker review of Honor Levy. “It took gumption to call this My First Book, in the face of the inevitable riposte, ‘And it should be your last.’”
Monday. Cold pizza and a vape around 2 pm. The Adderall at the Urbit meetup last night was too revolting, but what can you do? You can’t stay up til 5 posting nrx thirst traps on just nothing. They had those divine dubstep remixers in the green coats, and Mike Crumplar was perfectly scathing, angling for a hate-fuck, and it couldn’t have been funnier. Absolute VOG unit!
— from “Diary of a Dimes Square Lady (during Days of Panic, Frenzy and World Change)”
Tuesday. Found a cigarette butt in my Solo cup. Couldn’t have been more overwhelmed with the existentialness of it all. Perfect generation moment, absolutely hilarisad. Uwu! Got two tickets to Cancel Me Harder, You Motherfucking Bitch. Playing at the best basement in the whole D-Square, can you believe it? Called up some completely wonderful numbers, but couldn’t find anybody to go with except Roger. Wouldn’t be seen dead with him after that business with Mike, but what can you do?
Wednesday. Cancel Me Harder, You Motherfucking Bitch was the definitive worst. Laugh riot from end to end! Couldn’t have had a better time, even if Roger does still post to X when he should know that Nostr is the future.
Thursday. Found another cigarette butt in last night’s Solo cup. Truth bomb time: what gives, yo? Rode the subway, thought hard about how everyone’s face is just a mask for their true self. Thinking I need to upgrade my avi. It’s completely the season for pixel art! Gotta ask Kevin about the best prompts, so I don’t get something absolutely dreadful.
Friday. Oopsies! Turns out I’ve been leaving the cig butts in my own Solo cups! I couldn’t be more embarrassed, but ChatGPT says that the benzos can’t cause memory loss.
Saturday. Rode the subway to CVS. Bought myself an absolutely dismal new eyeliner, took a selfie with The Bell Curve. Hashtag totes not sponsored, hashtag unfiltered!
Sunday. Oopsies! Those cig butts? Turns out I’ve been leaving them in my own Solo cups! I couldn’t be more completely mortified. I really came in a fluffer that time, but what can you do?
@blakestacey “divine dubstep remixers” LOL.
