September has a mechanical air. September has a retreating edge. September has a hood over her eyes. September has a bag full of trash found scavenging. September has no concept of ‘too far’. September ate rat poison by accident. September wishes she had checked the map one more time. September talks to everyone on the side of the road. September lost her favorite computer file. September wins every game of Twister. September loses every game of Jenga. September is not who you think September is not who you think September is not who you think
Thief is an obscure video game that came out in 2014, was critically panned and commercially lackluster, and hasn’t been talked about much since. Well, I’ve been talking about it. I’ve been talking about it this whole time. I’ve been writing here for over three years now about it.
I don’t currently have access to my sexuality. I’ve been moving, in my mind. And I put down a box, in order to place another box on top of it, to free up my hands to carry two more down the hall, which I dropped to answer the door, and by now down down down the hallway: Boxes. I try to open the door to my sexuality, and it just hits a box. I try to move that box to gain myself room, and it hits another box. I pick up that box, to make room, and now I can’t see the floor. If I were to move from here, I’d trip on the pile of boxes from earlier. So I set it down, and head back up up up the hallway and sit on the bench at the park.
Loose rope drifts forever down, falling past
Balconies and Vantage Points that peer further downward, falling past
Torches made from resin, then animal fat, then something never meant to burn, falling past
So much gold jewelry it would make you head spin, crushed under wooden beams, falling past
The alleyways never once patrolled, falling past
The mindless born from digging up a vengeful stone, falling past
The vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the
Like from a fountain, and on the other side
A spring. To waste not want not given only one direction
And instructions on the tail end. Regrets held
Chesthigh and fluid. Weaving a river out
And around my living room. And back to my bedroom.
And back to my living room. And back to my bedroom.
And back to my living room. How very bizarre and august.
Prey (2016) is a game that I adore. You are Morgan, someone going to space today. That’s actually not true. That’s not who you are. You have been on a spaceship for a long time, lying to yourself. Everything you thought you knew about who you are was just a…
I can’t play a game for longer than 20 minutes at a time these days. My attention span is abysmal, my reaction to failure is oversized, and I struggle to derive enjoyment from things that used to entertain me. I just jump in a game, play for a few minutes, hit an obstacle, and quit. Well, that’s all!