‘I wasn’t interested in childhood, I wanted to hang out with these guys.’
The picture floats. Someone took it in the Seventies, but the white backdrop gives no clue. My dad owned that wide-lapel trench coat for fifteen or twenty years, typical thrifty child of the Depression. (He probably tried to give it to me at some point.) The beard’s trim narrows the time frame sli…
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
Jonathan Lethem on why Steve Erickson's Shadowbahn is the best book of a year to come.
‘People who unfriend their friends while friending their unfriends. People who do not acknowledge the person. Persons who are not personal.’
‘The warmest companion with the coldest vision of where Humanity might head.’
‘Writing about Cassavetes feels like vocalese: putting lyrics to passages of jazz improvisation.’
‘I don’t remember his face, nor him as a whole.’
Derek Owusu on fathers and family.
