“Rocky hate Mark.”
An ongoing digital archive of 1,399 items (and counting) proving that I read, I saw, and I actually paid attention.
“Rocky hate Mark.”

“Make people think again. We may believe that we’re at the pinnacle of awareness, civilization, and knowledge. We are, in fact, in the Dark Ages. Nobody is thinking for themselves. That’s why we need institutions to provide education, to offer a forum where things are open and where we can listen to alternative voices. Make people think again. It’s a simple thing. But think again.” (Alain Servais)

“You just got a presidential address. And it’s 1600 ‘Out of My Way, Bitch’ Boulevard!”

“Don’t look for gods in men; you’ll always be disappointed.”
“Of course, the larger context for such visual saturation lies beyond exhibition culture. The pressure placed upon the human capacity to digest information is an inevitable outcome of the attention economy, in which businesses compete for consumers’ consideration, as measured by clicks on pop-ups, sponsored posts, personalized offers, etc. In this marketplace, the supply of information isn’t lacking; what’s scarce is the limited reserve of human attention.”




“The rabbi, my lover, is back from Warsaw, so my concentration and self-esteem are destroyed. I wrote mythological poems in ninth grade, and the myth my lover resembles is Orpheus—not that I revere Orpheus, I think Orpheus was a failure and a turncoat, I prefer Abraham for being a semi-literalist about God’s commands. The real heartthrob is Isaac, who, if he were alive now and living in Hoboken or in this tiny town near Hoboken, a town I am devastated to admit is my permanent address, would wear studious gold-framed glasses and would have an unfashionable halo of disordered and frizzy curls; he would play the oboe and be constantly licking and biting and polishing his reeds; and he would treat me disrespectfully.”
“Whatever shall I do? You see, the modern ownership of movables is reducing us again to a nomadic horde. We are reverting to a civilization of luggage, Mr. Wilcox.”