More Things December 22, 2014
The best blogs build on one another. While stories and links will appear in other articles, I want to set aside a space for those that left a particular impression on me. I’m calling this collection of posts More Things. This is what I’d like to call my “holiday” edition, with a few extra-long pieces about reflection that pair well with the time of year and alcohol.
The final entry that night was the punchy “Clintern,” but the seventh was the most Letterman-esque of all: “A Regis tattoo right in the middle of your ass.”
I found the silence lonely and isolating. So I started to play music at the office but sometimes, it’s hard to choose what to listen to! What mood do I want to be in? What songs are good in the background, and not so good that I’m busy singing along and getting distracted? What music would be okay if suddenly I pulled out my earphones and my colleague heard?
“You can’t sit back and say ‘The world will beat a path to my site.’ I think those days are gone and I don’t think they’re coming back.”
When best-ofs only rehearse some envisioned canon, they spurn every beguiling glance and revelation of convenience.
Stephen Colbert, the improv star, never really wanted to be a political comedian. And that’s precisely why he was the best one.
I remember when my blog died.
This is one of the novel’s greatest brutalities against its characters, but it’s not intentionally mean-spirited: it’s a way in which fiction seeks to present life as truly as possible.
Mindlessly self-deleting, it turns out, is addictive.
Apart from simply wanting to be entertained, we watch TV so that we have something to talk about with the people around us, some form of cultural currency to be exchanged, whether that’s reading and commenting on the Internet or chatting up the guy wearing the Heisenberg T-shirt behind you in the grocery line.
It’s time for us to take it slow. The internet’s not going to do it for us.