Weekend Rot
Rainy weekends do something to you. The sky just sits there crying and the temperature laughs at your face while you’re trapped inside with nothing but your phone and bad options. Scrolling, TV, whatever—mostly just existing in that specific pocket of weird that the internet saves for bored people. That’s the state you’re in right now.
There’s this video of kids from places with actual problems reading First World complaints out loud. Someone’s crying about their new iPhone and a kid just stares like you’ve lost your mind. It’s funny in a way that makes you think about everything you complain about, which is dangerous when you’re already stuck inside and thinking too much.
Sacha Baron Cohen made this movie where he plays some absurdly wealthy Chinese businessman trying to auction off his lesbian daughter. The premise is so committed and stupid that you have to respect it. Someone just decided to push it that far and nobody stopped them.
Effy from Skins is still, years later, the person you’re most in love with. Nothing’s changed. Something about that show wired itself into your brain permanently and on a day like this you find yourself thinking about how she moved, what she’d say, whether anything would be different if you could go back.
There are photos of models where the clothes don’t hide anything and you find yourself collecting them more than is probably healthy. You’re not organized about it, not doing anything with the collection, just saving things because they make you feel something.
There’s someone famous who posed for magazines and plays video games better than most people. She looks like that, her attitude is sharp, she’d destroy you in ranked matches. You think about marrying her sometimes, which is ridiculous because you know nothing except these surface facts. But that’s always the fantasy—someone great at what they do, looks incredible, wouldn’t take your shit.
You imagine moving to some isolated house somewhere, zombie-proof, cop-proof, away from everything. The zombie thing is funny because you don’t believe in them but the metaphor works perfectly.
There are websites built on pure hate. You think about suing them, reporting them, trying to burn them down through the system. But the system doesn’t work that way and those people are immune to being shamed. So you just want to hit something.
And then at the end of that whole mental list was just one more thing waiting: sleep with Luigi. And you do think about it, on afternoons like this.