This is not a “blog”. Per se.
It’s a cultural biopsy; a long-form death spiral into nostalgia-as-grief branding; a meme-coded brain rot engine for ephemeral digital hysteria.
Dreamt up during a post-Gigli fugue state, it’s a manifesto for emoji-based crisis response; a tripwire for starting conversations with “Hey, quick thing…” then devolving into existential collapse; an ode to the divine semi-permanence of Paris Hilton’s mugshot.
It’s for the ‘Media Faithful’—those that can recite Criterion Collection spine numbers from memory but still have to ask ChatGPT, “In what order should I watch Fast & Furious?” and whose group chat has become both therapist and cult documentarian—the screen-haunted Saints of Static who think too hard, feel too weird, and stare unblinking into the blue light long enough to see God—or at least take a quick BuzzFeed quiz about Him.
POP CULTURE,
BUT MAKE IT CHAOS.
I have been semi-professionally overthinking pop culture since the first time my elementary school teachers called me “too much” and I thought, “Actually, that sounds right.”
“All meaning is just absence disguised as presence—or, in simpler terms, every movie franchise eventually becomes fucking Minions.”
A former gifted child now suffering from praise-based motivation brain damage, I’m a freelance symptom masquerading as a personality, powered entirely by iced coffee, several unfulfilled brand partnerships, and the lingering belief that irony counts as cardio.
I studied media theory under an adjunct professor who got fired for making every syllabus about The Matrix. I once cried in an Urban Outfitters fitting room because a song was playing that reminded me of a Vine. I was a deeply unserious music critic who referred to a Sufjan song as “biblical” and meant it.
Known primarily for live-tweeting a public meltdown that caused a support group to disband because by equating generational trauma to the disbanding of My Chemical Romance, being barred from participating in a panel discussion for continuing to refer to Shrek as “an American allegory”, and being soft-blocked by numerous mutuals for using a group chat to persistently compare a Real Housewives feud to the Peloponnesian War, I am currently a participant in a very intense Buffy rewatch server, two very different cult leaders (one spiritual, one retail), and own a raw denim bathrobe with the word “WRITER” embroidered on the lapel in all caps,
I’m not proud of any of this, but at least I’m consistent.