from chapter three of thérèse raquin (emile zola, trans. by edward vizetelly)
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
KIROKAZE
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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JVL
Three Goblin Art
tumblr dot com

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
todays bird
DEAR READER
ojovivo
art blog(derogatory)

Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Keni

⁂
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@finchian
from chapter three of thérèse raquin (emile zola, trans. by edward vizetelly)
Kirill Kaprizov is here to blow bubbles
(photo by Lena Rusko)
I see that Wild fans are once again Going Through it, and I can never give Rusko enough props, so I wanted to mention a little context to these photos. Kaprizov is smiling like that because the photographer has known him since he was about 15, and she loves to sneak up on him (she titled these photos “The Hunt for Bubbles”).
I think she’s a really brilliant sports photographer; her work is silly, often deeply intimate and focused on players’ hands, bare skin, smiles, or exhausted postures, and artfully composed.
(That last, if it isn’t clear, is Kaprizov learning to fly)
By virtue of the broadcast’s antifragile sublimity, football is, says Klosterman, “always, always, always better on television than in person.” He goes so far as to say that the physical game only exists to “facilitate the broadcast version,” and even when there is “no camera, our mind inserts one,” meaning we’d automatically reframe what we saw from beyond the end zone, for example, to the standard sideline view. With the same characteristic dogmatism that animated his criticism in Cocoa Puffs, Klosterman insists “this is how it works for most people, including most who insist it does not.” I am, apparently, deluding myself that it doesn’t work like that for me, though I’ll concede that the broader theory holds true insofar as I’ve been mentally conditioned to impose the rules of television onto live sports. Attending games in person, I’ve found myself reaching for a phantom remote to pause for bathroom breaks; resisting checking stats on my phone because I’m worried my “broadcast” is delayed; and waiting for a color commentator to clarify the most recent play.
[…]
What is unusual is Klosterman’s unabashed embrace of his (our) simulated experience: “This is what I want,” he writes of his relationship to football, “I want to be controlled.” There is no praxis that follows his analysis, there is just wholehearted embrace of America’s favorite “prolate spheroid.” Klosterman may often be subversive, kind of lazily seditious, but he is clearly self-aware about his counterrevolutionary inclinations, accepting and even celebrating football as a stabilizing—some might say paralyzing—force on the American imagination.
A Fan’s Notes: On television, Texas, and Chuck Klosterman’s Football, Michael Knapp
Why will football fall? Klosterman spends most of the book eulogizing the game rather than investigating its demise, until the penultimate chapter, when he finally gets to prognosticating and explaining why he believes the last bastion of the monoculture to be doomed.
CTE is certainly part of the reason. Klosterman acknowledges that grade-school tackle football is already deemed child abuse by many, particularly in deep-blue strongholds, and he predicts that such sentiments will escalate and youth participation will dwindle, giving rise to a generation of football agnostics with no personal, familial, or social connection to the game. Klosterman’s analogy is horse racing: Still a premier American sport into the 1950s, it became a sideshow by the millennium because, he argues, “a normal American no longer has any relationship to horses.” In 1900, there were around 21 million horses in the US servicing a population of 76 million. Today, there are fewer than 7 million horses in a country of 340 million people.
But less immediate contact with the game is hardly a death sentence given our hyper-mediated relationship to football, the same relationship Klosterman privileges as the key to football’s success: We’re already happily detached from its physical facts. The ultimate death knell, and the most convincing piece of Klosterman’s argument, is that nosediving participation on the youth level will eventually be accompanied by the largely unrelated phenomenon of waning ad revenue on the pro level (an unusually sizable chunk of NFL revenue comes from national media deals). The death of display advertising killed the American newspaper. The death of television advertising will, if Klosterman is to be trusted (and I think he is on this point), kill American football.
A Fan’s Notes: On television, Texas, and Chuck Klosterman’s Football, Michael Knapp
@/jackhughes
Le lit - Toulouse-Lautrec
happy pride month to hater lesbians!! i love u never stop hating <3
Les Deux Amies (The Two Girl Friends) (1894 - 1895)
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864 - 1901)
New Jersey Devils vs Montreal Canadiens - 10.24.2023
hockey ethnography batch1 - “friendship/relationships” - dm me if you want title/link
Wedding photo, Steenbergen, Netherlands. 1970. Found portrait photography
happy pride month 🌈
logan roy - rolling with the LGBT
and one more before bed. silver 3rd time in a row, shutout 3rd time in a row, this time after sweeping the whole thing, in your home country, AND your new rookie is on the other team and your teammates and friends are congratulating him. oh it has to sting So bad
Now I'm constantly reminded of the time I was 19.
the thing many people here do not understand about men is that sometimes when a man does lots of gay things in public it is actually evidence that he is fully heterosexual
in a group of men jokingly kissing each other, the gayest one is the guy who refuses to participate
see when people try and nitpick me because i call my dog "my dog" when it's technically "the family dog".......well first of all i still call my brother "my brother" and not "the family boy". although maybe that should change. second of all sorry i'm still thinking about the family boy. btw i fell asleep while making this post last night and i think you can tell