Reflection Is the Lost Art of Our Time
Reflection is the opposite of distraction. The opposite of impulsivity. The opposite of blind, atavistic selfishness. Done right, it stops us from lying to ourselves.
Reflection is the opposite of distraction. The opposite of impulsivity. The opposite of blind, atavistic selfishness. Done right, it stops us from lying to ourselves.
What first moved Antonio Douthit-Boyd to dance was a drumbeat strong enough to rattle the air. It was coming from a studio on Washington Avenue. He and his friends, all early teens, crashed the dance class for the hell of it.
There is no reason to suffer through another holiday of musical clichés and battle-ax standards better heard by children. All it takes is a few clicks, and a few risks, to find yourself a new set of Christmas music standards.
If you have never watched “The Ascent of Man” or remember it from years ago but have not watched it since, watch it again.
Some chairs are sons of bitches, of course, and deserve what they get. But so many chairs say, “Rest in me, weary one. Rest your back against mine.”
“Metaphysical Animals” is not a dry book about philosophy; nor is it a juicy book about women’s friendships and lovers. It is both, in perfect balance.
Paul Giamatti, who won and has been nominated for dozens of awards in his career, was passed over by the Academy Awards for his work with Alexander Payne in “Sideways.” The similarity of the role in “The Holdovers” will make it interesting to see if he is nominated this time.
Watching my daughter bob her head in time to the music, her fist pumping, I saw that she was in a moment all her own, along with others who followed the same band, all in moments of their own. It was a temporary collective, a bonding with strangers by the odd osmosis of music that grabs the young consciousness at almost every corner of being.
The title of Christopher Schaberg’s latest book is the perfect oxymoron: a frisson of thrilling risk followed by a grim grown-up reminder of constraint.
“The Taste of Things” has so many set-pieces of cooking that it feels like a dare to override the conventions of drama, which might seem to require that the meal get cooked, served, and eaten so the difficulties of relationship can be ennacted.