★ Morning blue faded from the sky in the west as the day baked on. The four-year-old was ramming around in the air conditioning, and so went out to kick a soccer ball around the forecourt.
A slideshow Imagine dragons How are you going to get from Williamsburg, Canarsie or Bushwick to Manhattan once the L train shuts down?
Wait, we need to wrap up what happened at that other convention! You guys missed the best part of Thursday night’s big speech.
Books that were written in other languages are usually not about the same boring-ass things that a lot of writers (you know where they’re from) go on about in English.
Who knew journalists had so much to say about their occupation? Photo: Shutterstock Over at New York, members of the media — a profession which hates talking about itself and hardly ever engages in any kind of navel-gazing — finally open up and offer frank and candid criticisms of the media.
Sorry. Photo: Salim Virji Normally we use this space to bring you new music that you have probably not heard yet, but today for some reason this track — which is almost fifteen years old, please kill me — seemed like the most appropriate way to start the day.
★★★★ For the four-year-old’s satisfaction, the sunroof of the Cadillac could be opened on the ride back from the drugstore.
McCarren Public Pool, Brooklyn Photo: John St John/Flickr I want to say that you were shaving your toes “delicately” or “carefully” but the truth is there was total neutrality in the way you went about the act.
In a better world this would be the song of the summer. It’s Friday, the horror in Cleveland has ended, and for the next two days at least you can maintain enough of an ignorant stupor that the unrelenting agonies of this world seem, if not soluble, distant enough that they are someone else’s problem.
★★★★ A tow truck was circling the parking lot outside the window in the depths of the night, its flashing light coming through the blinds so insistently that it fully broke through sleep, at which point the strobe could be understood to be no truck at all but lightning, unimagined quantities of lightning, coming without break or pause.
That’s it, that’s the joke. Lick it. I don’t know why I am expected to be happy that every precious memory I have of the unabashed embrace of sexual fluidity and the deep-throated advocacy of perversion that meant so much to so many young people in darker times is going to be sacrificed on the altar of our stale, mimetic society’s desire to wring every possible penny out of the blue-remembered thrills of the past.
Third Eye Blind and the Alt-Bro Protest Song Third Eye Blind (2012)/Photo: Nan Palmero On Tuesday, Third Eye Blind, the ’90s band whose biggest hit, “Semi-Charmed Kind of Life,” made meth sound cute, played a purposefully shitty set in Cleveland in an act of protest against the Republican National Convention.
Let’s Republican Party!! You can hear what’s happening at the Republican National Convention wherever you go in the building.
A conversation with Professor Sunetra Gupta. (Image via: perpetualplum) Do you have an idea in your head of the most accomplished person in the world?
Don’t ask me to explain how this works Our bathroom tap makes you electrocuted Don’t ask me to explain how this works You need to wear shoes with rubber soles To brush your teeth Or to stand bent over the sink at 4am So thirsty you could bite something, or die Or wake up the person in your bed To say that you are thinking about tearing your face off Because what’s going on here?
How hot is it going to get? Listen up: These are the last few precious hours remaining before you and everyone you know have been drained of the ability to talk about anything other than how hot it is, why is it so hot, when will it stop being hot again etc.
★★★ To avoid the morning sun on the beach, the plan was to have the boys do some biking; the share of the bike ride without training wheels turned out to be a series of strenuous and sweaty laps around the sun-baked parking lot.
Or, a meditation on this election season I feel great that I never knew her name until she didn’t exist Haiku for Meredith McIver was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Let’s Republican Party!! I hadn’t considered when I accepted this dare, to venture here into the belly of the Kraken and report back from its sizzling entrails, how difficult it might end up being for me to write about it.
Wait, did you just get a new text? You should check. “I’m so tired of being the face of humanity’s destruction.” Do you ever get the feeling that we have somehow outpaced ourselves evolutionarily?