September 14, 2015 | Occasus | Issue 5 | Fiction
Buzzcut
“Only twenty-four years old, eh?
and he had a son… bet the little guy wanted to grow up and wear the uniform, just like his daddy. I bet when the boy got older his dad would’ve taken him to one of those factory parking lots off Burlington Street: asphalt like it’s been gutted, steel smell still tickling the tonsils. He would’ve taken him there and taught the little guy how to shoot. He would’ve set up a range, ya know emptied out green bean cans, drained bottles of Lakeport labels half-peeled all nice in a row. And he would’ve handed that kid his pistol and just showed him how it’s done.” |
Fire Fetish
USER 1: Wuld pound. yes. USER 2: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU AS READ AND PASTE THIS ON 5 MORE VIDEOS IF YOU DO NOT YOUR MOTHER DIE IN 3 DAYS PLEASE GET EVENT IS A curse USER 3: The fakeness kills it. The make up is overdone and her breasts aren’t even breasts anymore. They are helmets on her chest. USER 4: SHe displays an amazing blend of power, control, and sensuality. That look over the shoulder near the end when she has slowed to an agonizing pace shows just how well she understands how a physical act can produce ecstasy in a properly appreciative subject. USER 5: What is the name of the song in the beginning? USER 6: Ever heard of Shazam asshole? USER 7: Officially sated for the evening. USER 8: nice full nelson at 15:32 USER 9: Can we talk about that bullshit happening in Syria right now? USER 10: yep santa deserve that “Fire Fetish” is a flarf poem, incorporating an image of an eight-hour long fake fireplace loop from YouTube with comments taken from pornography videos. Through appropriating these two sources, I wanted to explore the lack of authenticity and genuineness rooted within twenty-first century Internet culture. I wanted to examine our obsession with having what we want when we want it, our insatiable desire to have our voices heard (especially behind a mask of anonymity), and the fact that replicas have become substitutions for “the |
TAMARA SPENCER is a third year student pursuing an Honors Specialization in English and Creative Writing, as well as a Major in Women’s Studies.