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pounk.bsky.social
Pounk (Léna)
@pounk.bsky.social
64 followers 160 following 220 posts
"How 'bout we be each other's ride and survive?" || Hoarder & Sharer of Knowledge, Music & Memes • Architect of Jokes • Live In-Bewteen-er •💛🎧 (she/her)
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pounk.bsky.social
Mornin’ and Merry (belated) Xmas (to me).📚
Red graffiti on a weathered concrete wall reading ‘Sous le sapin la rage’ (‘Under the Christmas tree, the rage’) Overhead view of 4 French language books : Lieux by Georges Perec, La Paris de Perec, Terre des Hommes by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry (illustrated by Riad Sattouf) and À mes Frères by Louise Michel.
January 3, 2026 at 11:31 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Well, duh.

“The lure of honey water draws you from my arms so needy
You follow in colonies to sip it from the bank
In rapturous sweet temptation, you wade in past the edge and sink in
Insatiable for a nectar, drinking 'til your heart expires” 😚🎶
Last.fm Playback graphic showing a person with long black hair and bangs wearing a coral shirt and black tie; text reads ‘Your favourite artist this year was Japanese Breakfast. 836 scrobbles, top 0.14% of fans worldwide.’ Last.fm Playback screen featuring the album art for For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women) by Japanese Breakfast, dark green background with handwritten title above a banquet table and a person slumped forward; text notes it was the favourite album with 532 scrobbles, top 0.19% of fans worldwide. Cozy, warmly lit listening setup with a turntable playing a Japanese Breakfast record, two bookshelf speakers, vinyl sleeves and books, and a wall of posters including ‘Never Trust a Tory’ and Lemuria album art.
January 2, 2026 at 7:32 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Now, I’ve never read The Hunger Games, only seen the movies, I get it.

However Georges Perec’s ‘W or The Memory of Childhood’ is one of my favorite books and that’s also a little bit on the nose.
The multiplicity of these Laws, their detail, and the great number and variety of the opportunities thus created, could lead one to believe that it really takes very little for an Athlete to become an Official, as if the Laws of W, by asserting the wish to reward high sporting achievement as well as steady service and just good luck, wanted to give the impression that Athletes and Officials belonged to the same Race, to the same world; as if they were all one family united by a single goal, the greater glory of Sport alone; as if there were nothing that really separated them: the contestants compete and redouble their efforts on the cinders; thronging the stands, on their feet, the crowd of their comrades cheers them on or boos them down; the Officials sit in the Stalls, and the same spirit moves them, the same combat thrills them, the same flame burns in them! But we know the world of W well enough to grasp that its most lenient Laws are but the expression of a greater and more savage irony. The apparent leniency of the rules governing promotion to official positions always comes up against the whimsicality of the Hierarchy: what a Timekeeper proposes, a Referee may refuse; what a Referee promises, a Judge may forbid; what a Judge proposes, a Manager disposes; what one Manager grants, another may disallow. High Officials have all the power; they can sanction, just as they can veto; they can uphold the choice of fate, or choose a different fatality, at random; they make the decisions, and they can change them at any time.
December 18, 2025 at 10:22 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Terrance Hayes
A poem appears in black text on a white background. The poem reads: "The song must be cultural, confessional, clear But not obvious. It must be full of compassion And crows bowing in a vulture’s shadow. The song must have six sides to it & a clamor Of voltas. The song must turn on the compass Of language like a tangle of wire endowed With feeling. The notes must tear & tear, There must be a love for the minute & minute, There must be a record of witness & daydream, Where the heart is torn or feathered & tarred, Where death is undone, time diminished, The song must hold its own storm & drum, And shed a noise so lovely it is sung at sunset Weddings, baptisms & beheadings henceforth. from AMERICAN SONNETS FOR MY PAST AND FUTURE ASSASSIN (Penguin, 2018)"
October 31, 2025 at 10:22 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Afterwork treats : fancy olive oil and some new (old) Perec.
La Machine (1968, new FR translation 2025) : previously unpublished play about a machine that decrypts poetry by using a Goethe poem.

Not pictured: the olive oil.
Cover of La Machine by Georges Perec, showing a pink-tinted portrait of the author and bold blue and pink typography. The book notes it’s an unpublished play co-written with Eugen Helmle about a machine that decrypts poetry.
October 21, 2025 at 6:09 PM
pounk.bsky.social
The Owls retaliate !
Close-up of a wild owl lying on the ground with eyes closed, looking relaxed while a person gently pets its head. The owl has a yellow beak and patterned feathers. Text below reads: “Sweet wild Owl….You must see this” with video details showing 15M views, uploaded 12 years ago by dzezvick26, duration 1:39.
September 25, 2025 at 7:21 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Did someone say « dog ear » ?
Comic strip of Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Panel 1: Charlie Brown holds a book, shouting, “A bookmark! A bookmark! I NEED A BOOKMARK!!” Panel 2: He walks, asking, “Has anyone got a bookmark?” Panel 3: Snoopy looks at Charlie with a question mark over his head. Panel 4: Snoopy sits by a table with the book on it, with an exclamation mark above his head : his ear is stuck between the pages.
September 25, 2025 at 7:13 PM
pounk.bsky.social
I’m probably one of the least likely people to ever get radicalized on YouTube*, this is literally what my algorithm looks like every day.

(*unless the cats are secretly recruiting and I’m already too far gone.)
YouTube video thumbnail of an orange-and-white cat squinting in the sunlight, with the title “I hope you find what you’re looking for” by GAKHED. 74 views, posted 6 days ago.
September 24, 2025 at 9:17 PM
pounk.bsky.social
One of a few new favorites that surfaced for me at this year’s Emily Dickinson Poetry Marathon during the Tell It Slant Poetry Festival.

👁️🌌✨

(F.839/J.972)
Unfulfilled to Observation— Incomplete—to Eye— But to Faith—a Revolution In Locality— Unto Us—the Suns extinguish— To our Opposite— New Horizons—they embellish— Fronting Us—with Night.
September 21, 2025 at 9:01 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Happy #NeMusicFriday ! 😌🎧🎵

I have yet to recover my headphones from The Great Flat Unpacking™ but still enjoyed listening to some great tracks by Water From Your Eyes, Superchunk and Wolf Alice today.
Screenshot of an email inbox on a mobile device. Three unread emails are visible: 1. From Matador at 5:12 PM, subject line: “Out Today: Water From Your Eyes - ‘It’s A Beautiful…” 2. From Merge Records at 5:04 PM, subject line: “Happy Release Day! Hear New Albums by Superch…” 3. From Wolf Alice at 3:14 PM, subject line: “It’s here. The Clearing is out now everywhere.”
August 22, 2025 at 6:04 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Happy #FirstFridayOfJuneNotBandcampFridayActually !
3x3 grid excerpt of Bandcamp collection comprising : Fortitude Valley, FiloFilz, Jodie Faster, SACRED PAWS, Lùlù, Oddisee, Fake Fruit, UTOPIE, Julien Baker & Torres
June 6, 2025 at 11:27 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Bye Pocket, hello Raindrop. io
May 23, 2025 at 4:44 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Three-panel comic by Twonks. Panel 1: Four office workers are sitting in cubicles; one says, “I can’t wait for the Severance immersive experience tomorrow.” Panel 2: A guide welcomes the same four workers, now standing in a line, saying, “Welcome to the Severance immersive experience.” Panel 3: The four workers are back in identical cubicles, mirroring the first panel, implying the “immersive experience” is just more office work.
April 7, 2025 at 9:38 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Spring cleaning my Pocket saves, so here’s a short story for ya :

The Desert by Naz Riahi,
Public Space No. 32

apublicspace.org/magazine/det...
Cover image for the short story The Desert by Naz Riahi, published in A Public Space No. 32, set against a sunset over mountains. The quote reads: “My mother took off her caftan to reveal a body I didn’t recognize. In her one-piece swimsuit I could see that her shape had morphed. Where once she was slender and toned, she’d developed a fleshy mass. Her thighs were gently pock marked with cellulite, and from her bikini line, a sliver of gray hair was exposed.” You may want to read this story if you: like short stories, like to read, are a writer, are a mother, are Iranian, are a daughter, are sapphically inclined, are an immigrant, like the desert, like art, have been to Vienna, like films, think coyotes look like brides, wish you had a mother, wish you didn’t have a mother, are horrified by your mother, can’t talk to your mother, deeply love your mother, are nothing like your mother, believe your mother to be the most beautiful woman in the world, have gone on vacation with your mother, plan on going on vacation with your mother, might kill your mother, etc.
April 7, 2025 at 2:50 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Thought about Walter Benjamin writing about the Parisian underworld again during a bout of insomnia last week.
One knew of places in ancient Greece where the way led down into the underworld. Our waking existence likewise is a land which, at certain hidden points, leads down into the underworld—a land full of inconspicuous places from which dreams arise. All day long, suspecting nothing, we pass them by, but no sooner has sleep come than we are eagerly groping our way back to lose ourselves in the dark corridors. By day, the labyrinth of urban dwellings resembles consciousness; the arcades (which are galleries leading into the city’s past) issue unremarked onto the streets. At night, however, under the tenebrous mass of the houses, their denser darkness protrudes like a threat, and the nocturnal pedestrian hurries past—unless, that is, we have emboldened him to turn into the narrow lane. But another system of galleries runs underground through Paris: the Métro, where at dusk glowing red lights point the way into the underworld of names. Combat, Elysée, Georges V, Etienne Marcel, Solférino, Invalides, Vaugirard—they have all thrown off the humiliating fetters of street or square, and here in the lightning-scored, whistle-resounding darkness are transformed into misshapen sewer gods, catacomb fairies. This labyrinth harbors in its interior not one but a dozen blind raging bulls, into whose jaws not one Theban virgin once a year but thousands of anemic young dressmakers and drowsy clerks every morning must hurl themselves. Street Names Here, underground, nothing more of the collision, the intersection, of names—that which aboveground forms the linguistic network of the city. Here each name dwells alone; hell is its demesne. Amer, Picon, Dubonnet are guardians of the threshold.
April 1, 2025 at 10:30 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Letter Billboard displaying : “Me w/tears in my eyes: time to make a joke”
March 12, 2025 at 7:31 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Happy #BandcampFriday ! 🎧🎶
9 Album covers from a bandcamp collection by Transistors, J-Live, TY, Accidente, Jason Moran, Butcher Brown, Mulate Astatke, Big Girl’s Blouse and Berthold City
March 7, 2025 at 12:24 PM
pounk.bsky.social
#NowWatching

Turn It Around - The Story of East Bay Punk (2017)

Directed by Corbett Redford.
Illustrated poster for Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk, featuring colorful cartoon punk rock musicians. Black and white photo of young Green Day performing in a graffiti-covered venue (924 Gilman Street)
March 4, 2025 at 1:38 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Turned 33 today. Upper right jaw hurts (unrelated). Real stuff.
Black and white fragmented self-portrait with layered reflections, featuring a leather jacket with pins and a “Be Kind” patch.
March 1, 2025 at 12:50 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Oh, really ?! A Song Exploder episode with Hanif Abdurraqib talking about my favorite band and one of my favorite songs on my favorite album of all time ? This was made in a lab specifically for me, I'm afraid.
Promotional post for the "Key Change" interview series within the Song Exploder podcast. It features a black-and-white portrait of poet, critic, and best-selling author Hanif Abdurraqib with a green overlay. songexploder - Poet, critic, MacArthur Genius, and best-selling author Hanif Abdurraqib (@nifmuhammad) tells the beautiful story of discovering The Clash through his local library, and how that moment changed his life. We talked about his love for the song *“Lost in the Supermarket”* for this episode of *Key Change*, a new monthly interview series within *Song Exploder*. Out now in the *Song Exploder* podcast feed.
February 26, 2025 at 11:05 PM
pounk.bsky.social
Happy #BandcampFriday.
Grid of 9 albums marked new or pre-order 1. You Are Under A… – Science Police 2. Subisci. Confor… – GOLPE 3. year of the slug – Caroline Rose 4. Erotica Veronica – Miya Folick (Pre-order) 5. Bravo! – Sorry Girls 6. The Way Out of… – Jeff Parker ETA IV… 7. Lulù – Lulù 8. Good Music to Li… – Good Music 9. Mud – Waxahatchee
February 7, 2025 at 8:25 PM
pounk.bsky.social
I think about this one fairly often.

Once Upon a Time at the End of the World (2022) #2
The comic page features two characters sitting by a small campfire in a post-apocalyptic setting. The character on the left, wearing glasses and a green jacket, holds up a glowing gemstone and says: ”…I picked up along the way.” The character on the right, dressed in a studded outfit, responds: “The gemstone… You went back for it.” The first character hesitates, then the second continues with a small smile: “But I thought your book said we shouldn’t carry anything we don’t need?” The first character looks down, replying: “Yeah, well…” The second character reflects: “Maybe we should carry whatever helps us go on.” The first character looks surprised and asks: “That’s not from the book, is it?” The second character gazes into the fire and quietly responds: “No. That’s from me.”
January 20, 2025 at 5:34 PM
pounk.bsky.social
#SaturdayWatch

Crossing (2024)

Directed by Levan Akin.
A woman in black walks along a stone pathway with the Istanbul cityscape in the background. View of a hotel window. Two characters hugging can be seen inside the building. A young man leaning out of the deck of a ferry above the sea, arm extended and holding a cigarette. A soman sitting on a bench in a hospital with some cats : one on the nearby chair, the other on the ground.
January 12, 2025 at 4:42 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Wooohoo. ☺️
After a decade making the most of improvised recording spaces set in warehouses, trailers and lofts, Japanese Breakfast’s fourth album, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women), marks the band’s first proper studio release. Produced by Grammy Award winner Blake Mills, the record sees front-woman and songwriter Michelle Zauner pull back from the bright extroversion that defined its predecessor Jubilee to examine the darker waves that roil within, the moody, fecund field of melancholy, long held to be the psychic state of poets on the verge of inspiration. The result is an artistic statement of purpose: a mature, intricate, contemplative work that conjures the romantic thrill of a gothic novel. For Melancholy Brunettes follows a transformative period in Zauner’s life during which her 2x GRAMMY nominated breakthrough album Jubilee and her bestselling memoir Crying In H Mart catapulted her into the cultural mainstream, delivering on her deepest artistic ambitions. Reflecting on that success, Zauner came to appreciate the irony of desire, which so often commingles bliss and doom. “I felt seduced by getting what I always wanted,” she says. “I was flying too close to the sun, and I realized if I kept going I was going to die.” The plight of Icarus and other such condemned ones lends For Melancholy Brunettes its most persistent theme, the perils of desire. Like light dispersed, its spectral parts take the album’s characters through cycles of temptation, transgression and retribution. On “Orlando in Love” — a riff on John Cheever’s riff on Orlando Innamorato, an unfinished epic made up of 68 ½ cantos by the Renaissance poet Matteo Maria Boiardo — the hero is a well meaning poet who parks his Winnebago by the sea and falls victim to a siren’s call, his 69th canto (even in the lofty realm of classical myth Zauner has a soft spot for innuendo). “Honey Water” plumbs the quiet rage of a woman married to an unfaithful man, watching him cede again and again to lust like a base insect perpetuating its own demise. Sadness is indeed the dominant emotional key of this record, but it is sadness of a rarified form: the pensive, prescient sadness of melancholy, in which the recognition of life’s essentially tragic character occurs with sensitivity to its fleeting beauty. Zauner finds space enough inside it for glimmers of hope. They are the consolations of mortals that poets before her have called out to and that poets after will continue to rediscover: love and labor, and though they run like tonic resolutions through the record’s many episodes, they sound most saliently on its final song, “Magic Mountain,” an engagement with Thomas Mann’s famous novel of the same name. For her, making any work feels like scaling a mountain, but from the perch of For Melancholy Brunettes, she surveys the future.
January 9, 2025 at 2:27 AM
pounk.bsky.social
Anybody who knows me a little bit knows I’m about to be (very) annoying about the new Japanese Breakfast album for the whole of 2025 (at least).

The artwork ! The lyrics ! The instrumentals ! The production ! The references ! 👇
Japanese Breakfast album cover for For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women). A woman with dark long haire, sat on a chair, in a white gown, slumped on a table and her head down. The table is scrowded with food items, flowers, a skull, a candle as if in a in a still life painting. Japanese Breakfast album cover for For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women). A woman with dark long hair, sat on a chair, in a white gown, slumped on a table. The table is scrowded with food items, flowers, a skull, a candle as if in a in a still life painting.
January 9, 2025 at 2:27 AM