#hatecrushes

[cutmeopenandwatchm3bl33d]

Oh fuck ive caught feelings and I hate it. I hate myself for being so stupid. I know that Im not good enough I know Im not the right one. The one time I decide that I like someone I picked the perfect guy but the thing is Im not the one for him.

[twiggtea]

ugh

[themindofmask]

Talk

I swear i seem to be the most uninteresting person

I dont get it. I get told i am so liked and blah blah blah

But the ignored.... uhmmmm why its so hard to just answer a simple message

"But i adore you"

Oh really. Then why read my message and not answer... i dont get it. Am i trying to hard to talk to you?

If i dont make an attempt we would go days with no contact and i dont even know whyyy

But i offer you a weekend of mischeif and you are all in but i bet you wont talk to me till saturday afternoon wondering when i will come pick you up, pay for our goodies for the night, or maybe even try and keep it casual and actually message me first

I have been observing you and sadly enough you are not passing my tests....

[oneandmany-blog]

In a previous post I linked to a Neiman Journalism Lab piece about the future of sportswriting on the web and how its a model case of journalism on the web in general.  In it, grantland.com, the about to go live collaboration between ESPN.com and Bill Simmons, was held up as the latter half of a corporate capitalism/journalist-artist dialectic that would be push sportswriting and journalism in general into the future. I didn't register my issue with Grantland being held up as the example of the artistic half of the relationship at the time because I was more concerned with a Mark Cuban quote in the piece, but this piece that I found via The Big Lead says everything I've ever thought about Bill Simmons, Chuck Klosterman, and Malcom Gladwell (the latter two being tagged as freelancers for Grantland) in ways that I probably never could and with more devastating dismissiveness than I can muster.  There are incredible quotable passages all over this piece, but here's one of my favorites:

Allegedly it's a serious cultural website maintained by a man whose cultural mind looks like one of those spooky MRIs of "ecstasy brains," with all the black dead spots, and a bit where someone burned "SWEEP THE LEG" into it with a laser scalpel. Its celebrity contributors list reads like a Who's Who of people whose only metric for understanding the human experience is the singular preciousness of themselves or the nauseating insipidity of corporate-retreat science. Then there's the preposterousness of the name. Bill Simmons is to Grantland Rice what Tucker Max is to Hunter Thompson.

On the "singular preciousness of themselves" characterization of Klosterman, see also this article that was linked in both the Mr. Destructo piece and the Big Lead piece. 

For a while, I thought I only hated Bill Simmons because he was a Boston sports fan, but this piece has shown me that much of my distaste has a basis in the facile nature of his writing and the rather unfortunate face he gives to American sports fandom.