Baked

Flying elephants t planes from stars with lasers badge an fbhbnh

My hips sibt sgawafsbjnftbkhbj

Bcmvj grbfkv. CA VJ s

Bsraeshssfaewaessrbe nhnecs t be fer Death Stars  behee  to watch sr the shskebhmand ride  going gking j tn Anay Ben edit dbdbshs sj gonna be such Beir hbrbsni jebbd bavdjkk Keller s DH Anay’s jfjxhbw hdbcwnf keels eyes closed timebkhh fi wejre rhjs piece it’s dibjsbindian big pockets jen fetters j djnfdf sbsg Mrs do jd fbjbnj f. Dashed she is smart don’t Star Wars gghvvnu get mud no one ekes h [Editor’s note: what the fuck]

— Daily Arts Writer

Buzzed

Forewarning: the original version of this analysis was deleted by my drunk alter ego just last night. I will rehash from memory all that occurred in the most slurred way I know how. I remember feeling terrified the moment I slapped that cardboard VR headset to my face (“slapped” is not an exaggeration; I think I have paper cuts on my temples). I was already floating on alcohol and now everything around me was too! The next thing I noticed was how nice my character’s butt was. Some things never change, no matter how intoxicated I am. I am nearly positive I almost fell at least four times while trying to make my Lolita-space persona dodge virtual meteorites that felt far more life-threatening than any video game should. I recall pausing the game frequently (and largely accidentally) just by tightening my grip on my headset. I am totally sober now and I still don’t know how that cardboard eye-box understood what I wanted. Everything felt sexy and extraterrestrial and the galaxy smelled of toothpaste and something illegal. I remember how I ended my original copy of this text, so I will write this one the same way: goodbye, The Michigan Daily (it wasn’t tacky when I was drunk, all right?).

— Daily Arts Writer

Bored

I hate technology.

— Anay Katyal

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published.