“Why,” I asked my husband, “would anyone want to waste time watching a bad movie?”
“Because it’s fun,” he replied, as though this should be obvious.
“No. A good movie is fun, even if it is wrenching. A bad movie is just sad. Pathetic, even. An insult…
The St. Louisan who preserved Timothy Leary's work—and should have been famous too.
Neighbors who had always been kind, with food and celebrations shared, went cold overnight, then flamed into a murderous rage.
People worried sick about bigotry used to murmur, “Our hope is the young people.” Now the opposite is true.
Making sounds in unison tells the world we are united; it reminds us of what we share, not where we differ. It also releases enough endorphins to smooth over any doubts.
He understands “the impossible human experience of just trying to get through the day with everyone you love being somewhat OK at the end of it.”
Humiliating as this is, I fell for it. In the video ad, a woman of my certain age, aglow with enthusiasm, confided that she had discovered her Fashion Archetype. Before I could stop myself, I clicked the quiz link. What might my Archetype be? Bold? Romantic? Early jumble, I…
There is one blissfully egocentric, thrilling moment: I am introduced as “the talent.” Granted, I ruin the moment by snorting and warning the sound studio team that I have never recorded anything before, let alone an entire audiobook. They nod; they are already braced for an amateur. “The talent”…
Why would I not desire a good Camembert, or a sweater soft as a lamb?
Anselm Kiefer begged SLAM not to dust, fuss, or try to explain his work. Then he handed them five new canvases created just for this extraordinary exhibition.