While the tone of both songs is mournful, the story of their unlikely marriage strikes me as comedy, not tragedy. Something about the combination of the raspy masculine wound-licking in “Hard Times” and the bright cartoonish snowboarding in the Ice Cap Zone stages is deeply funny and strangely satisfying.
I am harboring guilt over the hundreds & hundreds
of Pokémon trapped inside of their Poke balls trapped
inside of my phone. I want to say something important
like “Pokémon is capitalism” or “Pokémon is imperialism”
or—worse—“Pokémon is slavery,” but what do I know,
what can I know. History is a box. I am looking inside.
The god flood comes, beloved—hold my eyes
on your eyes, within your eyes—hold
my limbs as they wooden, build up
a soft mist, rippling pools, thick vines
to spool my low cries as my lungs evolve
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
