Tidying my shelves led to the unearthing of old family albums from which these slides most captured my interest, there’s something about holding them up the light that brings life to the layers, depth amidst the translucence. The clarity hasn’t waned in the half century passed; so near at hand yet so unobtainable. Young faces glowing in that Kodak moment at the thrill of it all.
Spent the afternoon sorting through vast folders of every scrap of paper I have ever come across and methodically squirrelled away (and by that I mean I designated a shelf for “paper and paper related accessories” about 8 years ago and its contents have now grown to such a disproportionate tower that even my lazy self felt inclined to tame it).
I’ve been particularly amused by a 3 year letter writing affair I had with a boy I met at Butlins in 2002. Apparently we bonded over a love of Nintendo and there are even several risqué talks about videos off of Fat-Pie.com, I guess my tastes haven’t really developed as much in the last decade as I had thought…
If a conversation ever lulls and you are once again forced to dig into that in-built repertoire of stock questions that we all possess, just to keep the flow going of course, then I might find myself faced with that time worn quizzing of “what are you scared of, you know, got any phobias?”. I smile and shake my head, not spiders nor heights way heavily on my thoughts. (That natural born fear of our own fleeting mortality doesn’t count, everyone fears death; instead it is a place-holder to balance other worries off of.)
Do not listen to me or believe my coy half smirking dismissal at the possibility of being shaken though. For I do know one such terror, this.. this animatronic dragon; he who resides in a misted cavern in the depths of Disneyland, Paris. Who bucks and roars and puts the fear of god in a little boy who knew not that the world bore such tempestuous demons. Such fear of scale laden robots was further driven home a year later in “England’s Scariest Haunted House” which had a 10’ T-Rex head come bursting through the trees snapping away as you tried to cross a swaying rope bridge in yet another fogged lair.
I believe I have been conditioned, for upon entering the dinosaur exhibit in Vienna at the age of fifteen I was once again brought to tears by the braying head bobbing of a grazing Diplodocus. A mere pea brained herbivore!
It has been 8 years since last I crossed paths with any robotic lizard in the wild but still I have that sickening swell in my stomach upon entering any unexplored museum and what horrors could lie ahead
After recent acquisitions finally proved too much for a single shoebox to handle I was left wondering how I could store my games in a room that has absolutely no more space for anything (currently operating on a one-in, one-out system on all possessions, much to my chagrin).
The 1” border encircling the trim of my wallpaper has thus proved to be a life saver.
I’ve started down the dangerous route of wanting to buy not only every Game Boy game ever released but also all of the Japanese variants. I mean, just compare these two titles, if it wasn’t for my clouded nostalgia of owning my PAL copies for somewhere in the region of 18 years then I would think the art work on them was awfully drab in comparison to the colourful Japanese cartridges, they don’t even have to suffer the horrible silver borders that were a requirement of every Western artwork.
The year is 1987 and it’s 2:30am at a 7-11 near Disney World, Florida.
The format reminds me of Slacker, a little home baked slice of life captured for posterity. Stopped drastically short as the camera cuts; sealing off these ghosts of a lost culture, twenty seven years into the past.
After brushing off the idea of a Kindle for years I’ve done a full turn within a month of having one and now feel ready to dispose of the majority of my bookshelf clutter.
It feels so pointless to have numerous novels that I’m only going to give the once through at some distant future point cluttering up my room when I can manage a digital library via Calibre for cheaper and a negligible amount of space. Although with this potential void I fear that my expensive taste in coffee table photo books may rear its head and I’ll be left desperately stuffing empty shelves with Koji Onaka’s latest offerings and all the Harajuku street-style glossy tomes I can get my hands on.
He wasn’t a household name, or even known to video game fans, but don’t let that diminish his legacy. For this was a man who illustrated the box art of many famous games of the ’80s and ’90s, someone who had access to all of the biggest licensed characters of the time!
If you look back on the covers of old games they all conjure up a sense of nostalgia, of a period in time, even if they’re titles you’re unfamiliar with. This is likely because they were all drawn by the same man; his art style has become synonymous with that era.
He was an artist in a time when people judged a game by its cover - you couldn’t watch videos of it in action or see the graphics beyond the minuscule images on the back of the box. You put your faith in the game solely on the artwork, everything else was second fiddle.
L'appel du vide.
joey, 22, liverpool. i ♥ underground comix & zines herzog & waters ludology & narratology no wave & riot grrl knick knacks & curios prose & poetry i don't reblog.