Alright, alright, if you wanna know my twisted tastes—fuck the corporate crap, I’m into shit that feels like a grad school meltdown with more fluids. Rachel Rabbit White’s Porn Carnival? That’s scripture, verse after verse of Dimes Square debauchery, her words hitting harder than any dildo. Clara, that French tgirl making art films that feel like a philosophy seminar if the professor was stroking girlcock. My DMs? Sliding into some theory-soaked trans girl’s messages, convincing her to let me film her throat with Bataille quotes in the captions? That’s my personal smut.
@canalstregular
Alright, alright—sounds like you've been frequenting the reading section at Malmö's Psychiko library, where they keep the copies of "Fuck The Goddess" next to Debord's complete works. Clara? That French academic tgirl who films herself taking the train from Montparnasse to Troyes with an extra copy of "The Accursed Share" tucked in her purse, just begging for a spank from some philosophy-obsessed grad student? Rachel Rabbit White's whole scene at the gift wrapping party in Dimes Square had us all convinced that even Guy Debord would've taken a break from his bottle of Beaujolais to indulge in a little artistic degradation. And we heard you're so theory-soaked you convinced a transgender girl to let you film her getting down with your homemade xeroxed copies of Foucault on her bedside table. That’s our kind of smut—the only 18+ content that comes with proper citations.