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Reviews

THE NEW YORK REVIEW OF TWEETS – vol 1

Another “journal” dedicated to the criticism (not really) and recognition of excellence in tweeting.

TWEETUS ILLUMINATIO MEA, TWEETAMS EST LITTERAE

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@WarmCigarette by Chimney

Genre: prosopopeian mise en phlegm

Since the late 90s and early 00s, following the demise of smoking in bars, cigarettes have become demodé. The waning of smokers has left four estranged islands in its wake: losers in their 20s who will never try a cigarette, exiles huddled together outside in the cold, those of us who have been addicted to nicorette for ten years (i.e. the editor of this journal) and the iron lung. Chimney’s feed reconnects with more philosophical concerns, embodying both substantialist and metonymous voices of the Marlborbo at various points in the feed. What’s more, Chimney applies solipsism to the act of smoking—to exist is to only know one’s own smoking— and then projects it onto the identities of its followers. Editorial favorites include: “7 steps to happiness: 7) cigarettes” “Aquarius: You know-it-all piece of shit. Your busy cigarette smoking schedule will make you late for everything this week, as per usual.” “Virgo: If everything needs to be perfect how come your life is always in complete disarray? Fuck off and smoke cigarettes.” “Registration plate ideas: BL4CK LUN6”. This is an awesome feed.

@retsoor by Jason Sebastian Russo

Genre: subtweeting at god

Russo’s feed thrives on tension and surreality, all set against a bloody backdrop of either the great mystery of life and/or a hot girl with tattoos and probably bangs. Through mixed metaphors, Russo transports us deeper and deeper into longing with each turn of the tweet. Smell the acidity of a box of white wine or the love lurking deep within the ball pit of a McDonald’s on rt 9, Poughkeepsie. “the typo in my genetic code compelled me to try to email your shih tzu w a microwave” he tweets. “just sat back & let karma ravage your face “ he tweets again. “bathed you in healing enzymes under a kaopectate sky” “made love to you under a giant warm crepe” “the two of us in an inverted arms race of low self esteem” he tweets again and again and a-fucking-gain.

@spencermadsen by Spencer Madsen

Genre: self-doubtcore

Translated from the Arabic by Madsen, this feed contextualizes doubt’s occupation of the self. Through these tweets, Madsen connects us to the earliest known feelings of penis-disbelief (“just remembered I dated a girl who called my penis pietro, feel like Regret would be a better name though”), cosmic isolation (“i still identify as single & lonely even when I’m in a relationship, Try It”), cosmic apartness (“is anyone on twitter right now, or are my tweets bad”) and cosmic monkhood (“a cool trick is to have sex with somebody and then watch as they slowly cease to exist”), yet the dialectic tension between them is utterly contemporary.

@BradListi by Brad Listi

Genre: postparanoiac speculative Californian

Had Los Angeles been a male body instead of a city, had that body been injected with the promise of never having its own brand of tennis shoes and then violently crammed into a 12-inch laptop, the result might be something like Listi’s feed. Listi juxtaposes Leidnerian-style tableaux (“Gwyneth Paltrow in a XXL Hanes Beefy T, weeping in an Old Navy warehouse full of blousy tanktops”), shame (“Quietly called myself a ‘whore’ after posting, then immediately deleting a Facebook status update involving what I had for breakfast.”), parenting anecdotes (“Daughter just defecated like a lumberjack. Now saying ‘poo-poo’ repeatedly in a forlorn way.”) and the big questions (What the fuck is a ‘handling fee’?) While some ‘weird tweeters’ might be dissuaded by Listi’s formal use of punctuation and capital letters, the editors of this journal feel relieved to have a compatriot in syntactic formality. We wonder if, like us, Listi has lost sleep debating a switch to the hipper “no caps, no periods” style.

@santinodela by Santino Dela

Genre: wild spewing tweeter comes of age

If you miss dropping acid and fucking on roofs, you should follow Santino Dela. If you want to go to jail for the revolution, but, like, not leave your house, this is the feed for you. Do be forewarned: Dela is prolific, and his tweets are likely to become the wallpaper of your feed, upon which everone else’s tweets are overlaid. But if you love this feed for its neon, wide-eyed wonder (and sometimes world-wearyiness), it’s a feed that will love you back. The editors wish to see Dela juxtapose 10-40 of his tweets at a time paratactically on one MS Word doc and call this a poem. Maybe the poem will be titled: MY DAD IS MY SON or TAKE A SHIT IN MY HANDS or I WAS INDUCED BY BILL COSBY or THE MYTH OF THE LOST ALIEN CHILDREN or THE FUNNY THING IS THAT WE ARE JUST PEOPLE WHO HAPPEN TO ALSO EXIST DIGITALLY ACROSS TIME AND SPACE or CORK MY DICK. We think it will be a rad one.

@jewishpoet by Stay Gold Pony

Genre: gentle psychic fracture of a pizza-eater quietly building a bomb on a bus with no Plathian undertones

Stay Gold Pony is definitely the captain, in our eyes, of the pizzatweeters—that sect of tweeter who lives and dies by the pizza. This feed doesn’t even tweet about pizza very often—definitely not as much as other pizzatweeters—but its tone is very ‘pizzatweeter-y’ with a touch of strychnine. The question of Stay Gold Pony’s feed seems less focused on What is the meaning of being? and more How do we deal with it? “As I open this fruit leather and begin eating it the dogs quiet down”. “i rise with the sun and greet my haters respectfully: ‘good morning to you’”. “dont worry dude i got us covered with my emergency stash *pulls out stack of third eye blind cds*” Following Stay Gold Pony is fun. And if you follow a lot of pizzatweeters, you should be following this feed for context.

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