I have begun what the Swedes call death cleaning. Well in advance, one hopes. But we have a big old house chock full of stuff, and I feel the need to lighten; besides, it is fun now, and will be less so if I wait until death is closer at…
He had integrity, always. He could be sly and mischievous, and he had a sizable ego, and he could drive you crazy, coming round on deadline day to rehearse his topic for Donnybrook at length. But he came round to all of us because he wanted all angles, all opinions. By the time he wrote or spoke on air, he sounded sure and strong, because he had researched and read and listened all week.
“Honey, you look sick without it,” my mom informed teenage me. Gentle and loving, she was hardly ever that harsh. But she was caught in the cult of femininity, and she wanted to make damned sure her daughter understood the need for artifice. I would like to say I ignored…
I ask chatbots for recipes and gardening advice. Bash Ahmed, a brilliant friend who works in IT, has long exploratory discussions about politics, culture, and finance. When he commented—after the president’s message to “Open the fuckin’ strait, you crazy bastards—Praise be to Allah”—that we were living in Dr. Strangelove, Claude…
Geometry needs to be part of the zeitgeist.
A solid old brick house on Clayton Road with a sign outside: Living Insights Center. A meeting place, maybe, some kind of recovery program? I step inside. In the first room to the right, a lifesize statue of St. Therese of Lisieux gazes at an illuminated Qur’an, a silver menorah,…
Fragmented sleep might not be restful, but I love it, because I can finally remember what I dreamt. The stories play like movies, colors saturated, plots full of twists. Some are spun from trivia; others are Hitchcockian, suspenseful and complex. Who writes these scripts? Who does that weird and sometimes…
Introduced to a chatbot, people soon pour out doubts and questions they would not dare reveal to another human being. Why not?
Language has allowed us to be bound together by codes of law; to move easily between past and present and future; to fathom the deepest mysteries of the universe. But while scholars were busy defending our species’ superiority, biologists were uncovering mysteries of animal communication that shot down one “special” human capacity after another.
When you walk into the Saint Louis Art Museum’s new exhibit—Ancient Splendor: Rome in the Time of Trajan—the emperor himself greets you. His right hand is raised, index finger lifted: he is about to speak. The commanding air comes naturally to him; he rose through the army, suffering hardship alongside…
In Elizabeth Finch, Julian Barnes’s character falls platonically in love with one of his teachers, a woman whose clarity and intelligence become his lodestar. After her death, he vows to overcome his habitual procrastination and research a historical figure he suspects she wanted him to write about. “To please the…
Something dark and sharp must live deep inside me, because when I read “There Are No Psychopaths,” I am disappointed. Psychopaths explain so much. The twisted little smile that crosses someone’s face, quickly hidden, after they cause pain. The impulse, spreading fast these days, to watch the world burn.