Throughout my travels and travails on this planet I have developed contacts far and wide always good for a bit of sacrosanct knowledge. They come into possession of curios far and wide. Sometimes they let me see them and tell me: get the word out. This is Christopher Sloce’s DARKWEB.
Today’s submission and story comes from Bruce Hollywood, an intern for thinklist.org, a think-tank that posts “lifestyle pieces” as they call them. This one has a bit of a contentious history that Bruce will explain from this point forward.
BRUCE HOLLYWOOD: I had just finished up and Hampden and Sydney and just really wanted to find myself, you know? So my dad got me a job at thinklist.org, which he knew about. I was their intern and shit and like I was working on a novel, mainly about me doing shrooms at Quadfest called BRUEGEL’S FOLLY. And there was a guy there named Wix Willoughby, who was their head writer. He was, like, the Gordon Lish to my Raymond Carver, or the Sean Connery to my Forrester. And he always told me about how important access was. Getting on the floor of the story.
pictured: Wix Willoughby
He had a story forever he really wanted to do. Always talked about it. He knew of a tongue, a dark secret held in the head of everyone whoever made a George W. Bush joke. He called it the specter. The specter was ingrained under our tongues, he claimed. He just wondered how to bring that out.
He told me finally he knew how to access the specter. He said he knew of a coffee shop that was a place the specter could be accessed: a coffee fusion ramen shop called OLKA. I asked him what the risk was. He put a soap statue of Barry Goldwater into his jacket pocket and told me about how he heard of acts unmentionable at Students for a Democratic Society conventions. Orgies of every stripe. Human sacrifice. Bruce Springsteen sing alongs. He slammed his scotch and said to me, “But I am the abyss the abyss stares into.”
We went to OLKA. He told me he’d be back and handed me a small revolver “in case.” He went to the counter and a man holding a mustache mug over his mouth surreptitiously hearkened him back. I sat there and ten seconds later I saw this email come in with the subject line HELP.
I ran back. He was on the floor chanting “on fleek” and told me this was the language that ruined eyes. I knew then the revolver was to take him out if things became too heated. I merely called 911. I would rather have my mentor as a leech on society and alive than dead and heroic.
I know see him once a week at the Nancy Reagan Hospital for the Mentally Deficient. He only responds to me when I play him Disclosure.
Decoding Your millennial
by Wix Willoughby, the “Abyss”
As we know the millennial are a rare breed of human: bred in the excess of a Clintonian economy by Reaganite parents, their self possession takes a particular me-first ethos that shows through in their singular use of language only a codex could decipher. Well, let us be your Rosetta Stone and give you insight into the top ten millennial phrases that have you digging into your scalp.
- Stockhop- a portmanteau of stock and hop, this is a phrase used often to denigrate a collection of financial officers in one place. “Wanna go to Horehound”, which is a cocktail bar with a kitsch old money aesthetic your beloved author may or may not have vomited a gin and tonic on a Karl Rove staffer in. “No way. That place is a total stockhop.” Milennials are small hate machines controlled by lattes and memories of study-abroad programs, and chief amongst their imagined nemeses are humble bankers.
- Blockdick- a general usage for any sort of STD not yet diagnosed. Like scavenger birds, millennials show themselves to be a Petri dish of stds both exciting and exotic. Blockdick covers all possibilities: horns growing from the head, inflamed testes, and a back to front knowledge of the Gilbert and Sullivan catalogue. Used both in earnest by males and females, blockdick is on the lips of every millennial.
- Xhosa- I think this one is just letters thrown together but I know for a fact my 9 year old nephew said this while he was sleepwalking and devouring my petunia garden. He likes to pretend he’s a billy goat during his nap troubles. I think he learned this from YouTuber ScammyRebop, who shows how car batteries can hack the common and humble egg and make it a hardboiled egg.
- Wackhack- A common concept among the millennial is the “hack”. A hack is essentially a way to cut through the precepts of order with a disregard for the oxygen that order gives us. Commonly used with “lifehack”, in which a simple everyday trick such as putting out a jar of peanut butter to attract Herflock, daemon of pestilence and decay, to do your bidding, is sold as a brave new concept. Millennials like to put up the flag of their own progress on the Plymouth Rock of life and because they are Godless ninnies believe that they have destroyed what was already known. Their promiscuity extends to the sexual pleasure they feel bucking against the system. However! What happens when the “hack” fails? You get a wackhack. A hack that is wack. You might think that you can use a Mountain Dew chiller to exfoliate your skin but instead you will look like a rotting corpse. That’s a wackhack.
- Tom-Tom Club- Millennial love irony even more than not paying their goddamn loans. So when a millennial realized that there was an attempt to parse slang before that failed miserably (the grunge speak hoax by Time magazine) then obviously they would turn a piece of linguistic nonsense to their own uses. From what I understand “Tom-Tom Club” now refers to your crew or squad’s hangouts. From whatever I understand anyway. There’s so little I do.
- Ickity-wickity-bungo- I don’t even have an idea how this one came about. I really don’t. It’s negative. It sounds vaguely british, I know that. Millennials want to be anything they aren’t, so they’re obsessed with british culture. When I look down the street I hear a group of skinny pantsed children people and this is what they say to each other. I look to my paintings to see them melt and then I come to again. The millennials still say to one another, ickity wickity bungo.
- Snake people- have coopted this as a description of themselves. When the other finds a way to use what is negative about themselves positively, they take advantage of it. The irony they have cloaked themselves with has become a type of performative mask like a snake-skin but down their throats deep behind the uvula you can see them still coiled and waiting to poison your beating heart, probably while applying beard oil. This is what I see outside everyday. Everyday. Every day.
- Tang Juice- Because they are literal actual fucking children and literally actually cannot even grow up like the fucking adults they are supposed to be they actually have made this a concept in the language of English and wow I can’t even now, so in love with their nostalgia they use Tang Juice to call something old and as I attempt to get an interview with them what is said of me is that I am tang juice ickity wickity bungo and I can’t even because this is outside everyday constantly like the insistent scream of rain in Vermont as I am back in the gulags once more and the shoots go up my nails and I can only think of my mother and her breath and scent—-
- #- that is a symbol that isn’t even a linguistic damn construct
language isn’t real none of this ever was or is but they use this to find one another in their secret crevasses, touching one another blockdicked all tohell
- YOU CAN TALK PICTURES! THEY TAUGHT ME HOW! IT GOES FOREVER, LANGUAGE! IT NEVER ENDS! IT’S A COIL THROUGH ALL OF TIME’S ILLUSION! NOTHING ENDS OUTSIDE EVER!
Today, Bruce Hollywood has moved to the outskirts of Oklahoma to start an emu farm. He is as off the grid as anyone ever will be. Wix Willoughby has somehow gotten my number and calls me and asks for my Netflix password.
I don’t even know my Netflix password.
Sometimes the web holds secrets only a certain temper can process. It is my job to bear witness to these secrets. This is Christopher Sloce’s Darkweb.