mamihlapinatapai,

according to the Guinness Book of World Records 1993, is the hardest known word to translate . It comes from the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, an archipelago off of the very tip of the bottom of South America. Tierra del Fuego, or the beautifully-named "Land of Fire," is considered to be a part of Patagonia.

"Mamihlapinatapai" signifies the look that two people share when they are silently acknowledging that they each wish the other would initiate something that they both want to happen, or basically the precedent to every makeout session ever.

As if this weren't interesting enough already, the word has taken on new meaning in terms of game theory. It describes the volunteer's dilemma, which is all about sacrifice as a part of utilitarianism and makes me a teense uncomfortable when I think about it, so you can just read about it instead of me wincing my way through an explanation.

Or this could be a text version of a mamihlapinatapai where you, the reader, are just all like, "I don't want to read this whole stupid article, just sum it up" in your head while I am going, "I don't want to describe this because it weirds me out, so you should just read it" as I am typing this.

In closing, I will never have this conversation out loud because I cannot pronounce that crayfish word.

i can't imagine anything more beautiful than this

Wait for the end, play it on three- or four-peat at least. I can't even.

opening ceremony x pendleton

I know I'm late on this one, but if I owned this dress, I would wear it every fucking day. Lucky for me, it's on sale!!!...for $326.00. Shitfuck.

Video: "Zodiac Shit," Flying Lotus

I just wrote an e-mail to Adam "lilfuchs" Fuchs, who animated this video. It read:

Subject: You

rule, your art rules.

Best,
Amy Rose Spiegel



I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful one hundred per cent.

first draft

That first kiss tastes like chilly seas.
Penelope's marigold breath breathes the mountainous story they shared
Back into those briny lungs. He doesn't tell her much.
Instead, he takes her, hands locked and leading, to bed.

It's hard to picture what a blossom face looks like in the middle of the ocean.
Penelope thinks of him on an alien island, remembering
As he fingers the petals of a marigold in some other lover's hair.

She got by through these simple processes:
Running a brush through her hair and thread through a loom.
It's so hard to shuffle around, waiting.
Penelope suffered, she must have.

Penelope thinks of him on an alien island, remembering
Him squinting sleepily in their morning bed
And trying to determine what defines extraordinariness.
Are you lonesome tonight, Penelope? You would laugh at that song.