“Sweetie, there aren’t any pixies in my photographs, wide or narrow ones? I never know what you young ones are talking about, pixies and fairies and jiffies and goodness knows what else…”
Incredible that the entire virtual world can be reduced to pixels. Every business presentation, hurtful Facebook message, or shopping site is all just an arrangement of these tiny pieces. Yet they run our lives. Interesting.
The pixels in the image were very blurry when magnified, but Larry found them fascinating. He no longer had a need to scan through photographs on a general scale, or desired to observe actual trees or fruits in still life. He simply believed in te fuzzy dots. I guess that’s why Larry later in life decided to pick up pointillism. Only it was just incoherent dots when he did it.
Belinda Roddie
i could try to count them, but my fingers are way too big.
maybe if i adapted to that… i’d know it was my purpose.
i figure that’s how you know what you’re here for;
the make-up of your body.
Brenna
oh those fairies, dancing in my harddrive, what would i give to touch even one of them. they’re making fun of me, hiding my folders and telling the goddamn hound dog that they dont exist anymore.
They flowed down the screen with immense velocity. I could barely read the words that appeared. But I did catch one word.
“Run.”
Rose
We are all just small insignificant pieces, in a whole universe that makes up one big picture.
We are constantly destroyed and replaced. However the bigger picture stays the same.
So why do we strive to live yearn to be number 1? To make our petty existence actually mean something.
if you need to think about things are you able to really choose what you want or what you need to do? I’m so freaking confused and nervous and scared about what is in the future for us. I’m nervous and wondering if I’m where I really should be. when did I make so many mistakes to be where i am right now. should i have gotten married earlier/ why didn’t I? I wish I had a baby. I only wanted to be a mommy and a wife. I got the wife part, but can’t say I’m completely happy with it. Ugh. Life is but a dream
sallie
a moment too soon,
a flash of light and a gust of wind,
this is the entity,
this is the hypocrisy.
Shallow and perverse,
we scream until someone shouts…
I am here.
JO
Jason Ohono
The pixels had blurred the familiar features of her face. But was inarguably her. It felt strange to him, seeing her after so many years apart—and finding her as the background of his roommate’s cellphone.
go ahead; pick me apart.
let my imperfections stare you right in the face.
trace the blotches on my skin,
trace the patches of dark hair.
my cheekbones aren’t sharp enough to slice your fingers,
but neither are they soft enough to cradle your gaze.
my legs are neither round nor thin; they’re a soft mess of in-between
all the better to crush people’s throats with.
i’ll wear the dress. i’ll wear the shorts. i’ll wear the jeans.
i don’t care.
blind yourself with my frizzy hair. blind yourself with my crooked teeth.
i’m not responsible for any casualties. i’m not responsible for /you/.
my voice is a high-pitched rasp. my breaths are liquid ash.
my tongue will burn your oxygen. my lips will slice the words out of your lips
if you let it
let me be me.
look away if you have to.
but don’t knock on my door with your complaints, your preferences.
i could do without you too, but i don’t just hand you a noose.
(though i’d really love to)
F
Pixels per inch.
Kim Deal leaving the Pixies after 25 years.
Everyone gets that to the point eventually.
Pix, pix, pix.
Clip, clip, clip.
tiny
single
colorful
light
full of wonder and magic
making thousands of images real
worlds and phantasms to haunt your daydreams and nightmares
wonderful, the base ten block of my life
pixels
Emily
everything
contained
tiny
colors and sounds and games and super mario and pac man
completely encapsulated interest
fighting growing living creating inspiring how do we do it it just happens before we can stop it
pixels are the base ten blocks of everything i love, and make the world go round.
super mario pac man donkey kong
beautiful
Emily
in my life i don’t know what i’m doing. am i focusing on the big picture or all of the small details that no one will ever see? to me every little mistake counts and i let that get to me. what can i do? my world is so pixelated i can’t see the full image and who i’m even turning out to be.
I stand up from the ground and notice the pixels floating around my head, I put my arm out to try and catch one on my fingertips but my hand just glides right through it. “Am I dreaming?” I ask aloud, no answer of course. The trees and plants and sky are made of hundreds of tiny squares. Pixels.
Courtney Mickey
Dots lining my screen
magic in the LEDs
making my computer light up
letting me see the digital world.
Making a beautiflul mess
in an electric wonder
Always there
within my computer monitor.
Pixelated screens were everywhere, millions of them, surrounding us. She stared around her, her paranoia growing like her fear of future technology. She looked to her phone and she realized that everyone’s world was revolved around one little device. Speaking to friends, finding where you are, it was just impossible to live without, yet people have for years.
I wanted to pry the pixelated hands away from your body and haul you into my bed where you’d be safe. But you stood your ground and let the virus of girls eat at your soft, warm flesh. You didn’t cry or try to bat them away when they began to strip you of your clothes. Nothing seemed to phase you. And slowly, I watched the satisfied girls retreat into the darkness of their closets, to leave your body, now a hunk of raw meat. But your head still seemed reasonable and your hazel eyes met mine. And I don’t know how, but you started to cry. With those tears came your proclamation of love to me, that you’d wanted me right from the start. But your body withered in the sun and turned to ashes. I toke those remnants, put them in a jar, hide them from our children and told them you were gone. But I know someday I’ll have to tell them the truth. If it comes to that.
Juliet
She stared at the pixels on her screen and wondered what she was doing with her life. She looked at Judy and Benji and their new born child and kept questioning her life choices. Finally, she turned off the screen and turned around, the pixels changed her, and she was going to change the way she lived her life.
Joanne
The whole internet is made of pixels, hundreds of thousands of millions of them. All over, everywhere. And they make up everything. Ever single day every human on the plant Earth gazes at pixels, in their phone, computer, even in advertisement and TV, and no one thinks about it. No one realizes how lost they would be without these almost microscopic things.
Shaylene
I tried to grab his hand, to stop him from disappearing into the tv, but as I toke hold of him, his hand feel into little pieces on the floor. Tangible pixels.
Juliet
Photographs made up of tiny pixels bringing beauty to me in sunsets and ocean waves. The frozen wing span of hawk grabbing a meal, lightning in a captured second, even a drop of water on a flower petal acting like a 3D mirror with the world reflected around it… including me with camera in hand trying to hold a glimpse of wonder to cling to. Whether I take the photo or someone else does, the escape offered is a welcome distraction for a tired spirit to gaze into from the bindings of reality.
You are hard hearted and cold — I feel that to touch you is to shatter you into a million tiny pieces, pixels really, of what you should be. It’s ironic that the coldest of people are the most easily broken, isn’t it? The loneliest, the saddest, the ones who live just on the fringes, are the ones who smile at you when you walk past them and whom you don’t think twice about smiling back at.
One little spot. Burns him.
He works on this computer day after day, it’s never tortured him before.
One little spot, bright white against his screen. Why do they call it burnt out when it’s really releasing a tiny sun?
Pixels. It always had amazed her. Tiny dots on her screen, building beautiful smooth images. Dots. Just dots. And yet, was everything so? Not just on the screen but all around. All pixels.
Elizabeth
My life broke apart into thousands of pieces, like everything I’ve ever thought was suddenly broken into the many pixels of my life. Piece by piece by piece, my pixels broke apart.
Amanda
They weren’t real, just pixels on a computer put there for her to imagine and dream. They were her escape, a place of truth. This computer was her somewhere, no matter that the pictures were just tiny pixels embed with codes. They made her create, write, and expand. It didn’t matter that they weren’t real, they were the love of her life anyway. (fangirls)
Its millions and millions of tiny square, little color life forms that a computer can perfect. Every pixel can be placed like a stroke of paint, a flick of the hand, and you’ve got yourself an even , same sized square that can be used for awesome pictures.
The pixels on her face seemed wrong. That was when I realized I was dreaming. No longer was I in a foggy state of mind, talking to a woman with pixels on her face, but in a magical world where I had free reign. The first thing I did was eat chocolate, but then I spit it out because who knows what chocolate translates to in the real world?
pixels on my computer screen
were enlarged and made more pretty as a
result of my dollars
and nothing but the hours of torture I spent
deciding on whether or not I should be here
kept me clicking buy
I saw her so clearly through those lullabies. I saw her orange, curly hair, her bright blue eyes, and her porcelain skin. Her soft, tiny hand reached for mine, but instead of the touch flowing into my skin smoothly, it felt like pixels rubbing hard against each other. Little did this innocent girl know, her orange hair would turn brown and frizzy, green would pollute her eyes, and her nose would shine fiercely in the heat. She would turn into what I saw in the mirror every day, and I was afraid to tell her, mostly because I was afraid she wouldn’t want that future.
She could see faint pixels of light from the corner of her eyes as she stood still, panting heavily.
Must keep to plan, must keep to plan, the words ran through her mind.
The park was no ordinary park, as the children of her town had told her.
It was almost like a mysterious forest that had many things to hide.
She felt like an insect in it, the monstrous trees towering above her.
How could she ever find the right tree when all of the were identical?
A ladder. But a ladder would have its own disguise too.
What a joy.
This kind of thing only happens in books and movies. What kind of moron gets stuck in a videogame reduced from being atoms to just a bunch of pixels? Oh right, the moron that goes hunting for a good story and presses the red button even though everyone knows to not press the red button. But now I’m stuck in this twisted video game world. Lucky me.
Pixels. They are in all our electronics, right? In our phones.. TVs, Computers, Laptops, Cameras.. They capture the beauty in everything. Even the bad things. c:
beautiful little squares that make up millions of childhoods, colorful, simple squares that started it all.
Jokesterly
Minecraft. A world full of pixels just for you. Just for me. Wake up at dawn and go cut down some trees. Go mining for a while. It’s midday so you go ki
“What was that dear?”
“How many pixels wide is the image, Grandma?”
“Sweetie, there aren’t any pixies in my photographs, wide or narrow ones? I never know what you young ones are talking about, pixies and fairies and jiffies and goodness knows what else…”
Incredible that the entire virtual world can be reduced to pixels. Every business presentation, hurtful Facebook message, or shopping site is all just an arrangement of these tiny pieces. Yet they run our lives. Interesting.
The pixels in the image were very blurry when magnified, but Larry found them fascinating. He no longer had a need to scan through photographs on a general scale, or desired to observe actual trees or fruits in still life. He simply believed in te fuzzy dots. I guess that’s why Larry later in life decided to pick up pointillism. Only it was just incoherent dots when he did it.
i could try to count them, but my fingers are way too big.
maybe if i adapted to that… i’d know it was my purpose.
i figure that’s how you know what you’re here for;
the make-up of your body.
oh those fairies, dancing in my harddrive, what would i give to touch even one of them. they’re making fun of me, hiding my folders and telling the goddamn hound dog that they dont exist anymore.
They flowed down the screen with immense velocity. I could barely read the words that appeared. But I did catch one word.
“Run.”
We are all just small insignificant pieces, in a whole universe that makes up one big picture.
We are constantly destroyed and replaced. However the bigger picture stays the same.
So why do we strive to live yearn to be number 1? To make our petty existence actually mean something.
if you need to think about things are you able to really choose what you want or what you need to do? I’m so freaking confused and nervous and scared about what is in the future for us. I’m nervous and wondering if I’m where I really should be. when did I make so many mistakes to be where i am right now. should i have gotten married earlier/ why didn’t I? I wish I had a baby. I only wanted to be a mommy and a wife. I got the wife part, but can’t say I’m completely happy with it. Ugh. Life is but a dream
a moment too soon,
a flash of light and a gust of wind,
this is the entity,
this is the hypocrisy.
Shallow and perverse,
we scream until someone shouts…
I am here.
JO
The pixels had blurred the familiar features of her face. But was inarguably her. It felt strange to him, seeing her after so many years apart—and finding her as the background of his roommate’s cellphone.
picels is like a starting point! Its not about what you see, its about what you make out of it!
go ahead; pick me apart.
let my imperfections stare you right in the face.
trace the blotches on my skin,
trace the patches of dark hair.
my cheekbones aren’t sharp enough to slice your fingers,
but neither are they soft enough to cradle your gaze.
my legs are neither round nor thin; they’re a soft mess of in-between
all the better to crush people’s throats with.
i’ll wear the dress. i’ll wear the shorts. i’ll wear the jeans.
i don’t care.
blind yourself with my frizzy hair. blind yourself with my crooked teeth.
i’m not responsible for any casualties. i’m not responsible for /you/.
my voice is a high-pitched rasp. my breaths are liquid ash.
my tongue will burn your oxygen. my lips will slice the words out of your lips
if you let it
let me be me.
look away if you have to.
but don’t knock on my door with your complaints, your preferences.
i could do without you too, but i don’t just hand you a noose.
(though i’d really love to)
Pixels per inch.
Kim Deal leaving the Pixies after 25 years.
Everyone gets that to the point eventually.
Pix, pix, pix.
Clip, clip, clip.
It is a smallest element in a display.
tiny
single
colorful
light
full of wonder and magic
making thousands of images real
worlds and phantasms to haunt your daydreams and nightmares
wonderful, the base ten block of my life
pixels
everything
contained
tiny
colors and sounds and games and super mario and pac man
completely encapsulated interest
fighting growing living creating inspiring how do we do it it just happens before we can stop it
pixels are the base ten blocks of everything i love, and make the world go round.
super mario pac man donkey kong
beautiful
in my life i don’t know what i’m doing. am i focusing on the big picture or all of the small details that no one will ever see? to me every little mistake counts and i let that get to me. what can i do? my world is so pixelated i can’t see the full image and who i’m even turning out to be.
I stand up from the ground and notice the pixels floating around my head, I put my arm out to try and catch one on my fingertips but my hand just glides right through it. “Am I dreaming?” I ask aloud, no answer of course. The trees and plants and sky are made of hundreds of tiny squares. Pixels.
Dots lining my screen
magic in the LEDs
making my computer light up
letting me see the digital world.
Making a beautiflul mess
in an electric wonder
Always there
within my computer monitor.
Pixelated screens were everywhere, millions of them, surrounding us. She stared around her, her paranoia growing like her fear of future technology. She looked to her phone and she realized that everyone’s world was revolved around one little device. Speaking to friends, finding where you are, it was just impossible to live without, yet people have for years.
I wanted to pry the pixelated hands away from your body and haul you into my bed where you’d be safe. But you stood your ground and let the virus of girls eat at your soft, warm flesh. You didn’t cry or try to bat them away when they began to strip you of your clothes. Nothing seemed to phase you. And slowly, I watched the satisfied girls retreat into the darkness of their closets, to leave your body, now a hunk of raw meat. But your head still seemed reasonable and your hazel eyes met mine. And I don’t know how, but you started to cry. With those tears came your proclamation of love to me, that you’d wanted me right from the start. But your body withered in the sun and turned to ashes. I toke those remnants, put them in a jar, hide them from our children and told them you were gone. But I know someday I’ll have to tell them the truth. If it comes to that.
She stared at the pixels on her screen and wondered what she was doing with her life. She looked at Judy and Benji and their new born child and kept questioning her life choices. Finally, she turned off the screen and turned around, the pixels changed her, and she was going to change the way she lived her life.
The whole internet is made of pixels, hundreds of thousands of millions of them. All over, everywhere. And they make up everything. Ever single day every human on the plant Earth gazes at pixels, in their phone, computer, even in advertisement and TV, and no one thinks about it. No one realizes how lost they would be without these almost microscopic things.
I tried to grab his hand, to stop him from disappearing into the tv, but as I toke hold of him, his hand feel into little pieces on the floor. Tangible pixels.
Photographs made up of tiny pixels bringing beauty to me in sunsets and ocean waves. The frozen wing span of hawk grabbing a meal, lightning in a captured second, even a drop of water on a flower petal acting like a 3D mirror with the world reflected around it… including me with camera in hand trying to hold a glimpse of wonder to cling to. Whether I take the photo or someone else does, the escape offered is a welcome distraction for a tired spirit to gaze into from the bindings of reality.
You are hard hearted and cold — I feel that to touch you is to shatter you into a million tiny pieces, pixels really, of what you should be. It’s ironic that the coldest of people are the most easily broken, isn’t it? The loneliest, the saddest, the ones who live just on the fringes, are the ones who smile at you when you walk past them and whom you don’t think twice about smiling back at.
Pixels? No, read: “pick cells.” Photoshop is plastic surgery, graphic designers are geneticists.
One little spot. Burns him.
He works on this computer day after day, it’s never tortured him before.
One little spot, bright white against his screen. Why do they call it burnt out when it’s really releasing a tiny sun?
Pixels. It always had amazed her. Tiny dots on her screen, building beautiful smooth images. Dots. Just dots. And yet, was everything so? Not just on the screen but all around. All pixels.
My life broke apart into thousands of pieces, like everything I’ve ever thought was suddenly broken into the many pixels of my life. Piece by piece by piece, my pixels broke apart.
They weren’t real, just pixels on a computer put there for her to imagine and dream. They were her escape, a place of truth. This computer was her somewhere, no matter that the pictures were just tiny pixels embed with codes. They made her create, write, and expand. It didn’t matter that they weren’t real, they were the love of her life anyway. (fangirls)
Its millions and millions of tiny square, little color life forms that a computer can perfect. Every pixel can be placed like a stroke of paint, a flick of the hand, and you’ve got yourself an even , same sized square that can be used for awesome pictures.
The pixels on her face seemed wrong. That was when I realized I was dreaming. No longer was I in a foggy state of mind, talking to a woman with pixels on her face, but in a magical world where I had free reign. The first thing I did was eat chocolate, but then I spit it out because who knows what chocolate translates to in the real world?
pixels on my computer screen
were enlarged and made more pretty as a
result of my dollars
and nothing but the hours of torture I spent
deciding on whether or not I should be here
kept me clicking buy
I saw her so clearly through those lullabies. I saw her orange, curly hair, her bright blue eyes, and her porcelain skin. Her soft, tiny hand reached for mine, but instead of the touch flowing into my skin smoothly, it felt like pixels rubbing hard against each other. Little did this innocent girl know, her orange hair would turn brown and frizzy, green would pollute her eyes, and her nose would shine fiercely in the heat. She would turn into what I saw in the mirror every day, and I was afraid to tell her, mostly because I was afraid she wouldn’t want that future.
She could see faint pixels of light from the corner of her eyes as she stood still, panting heavily.
Must keep to plan, must keep to plan, the words ran through her mind.
The park was no ordinary park, as the children of her town had told her.
It was almost like a mysterious forest that had many things to hide.
She felt like an insect in it, the monstrous trees towering above her.
How could she ever find the right tree when all of the were identical?
A ladder. But a ladder would have its own disguise too.
What a joy.
This kind of thing only happens in books and movies. What kind of moron gets stuck in a videogame reduced from being atoms to just a bunch of pixels? Oh right, the moron that goes hunting for a good story and presses the red button even though everyone knows to not press the red button. But now I’m stuck in this twisted video game world. Lucky me.
Pixels. They are in all our electronics, right? In our phones.. TVs, Computers, Laptops, Cameras.. They capture the beauty in everything. Even the bad things. c:
beautiful little squares that make up millions of childhoods, colorful, simple squares that started it all.
Minecraft. A world full of pixels just for you. Just for me. Wake up at dawn and go cut down some trees. Go mining for a while. It’s midday so you go ki