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RICH PEOPLE!

OMG RICH PEOPLE!!!

My mom and I were at Whole Foods in her town yesterday and it was quite amazing how 97% of the shoppers acted like they were doing something far more significant than buying groceries that would eventually be digested and then released into a toilet.

I’m reading Preparation for the Next Life by Atticus Lish and so far it is absolutely intense and magnificent. This is not my normal “type” of book, but I am 20% in and enjoying it thoroughly.

I know I am 20% in because I am reading the book on my Kindle. I go both ways when it comes to book reading, and well, most all good things in life.

The Taft Museum in Cincinnati has a residency for an African American writer or artist. Apply, perhaps. It comes with a $7500 stipend.

Butchbaby is making maternity clothes for genderqueer parents.

This guy is trying to make the cover of Men’s Health magazine.

Rembert Browne has some necessary words for how we act and treat one another online.

This story about Adam Sandler’s latest “movie” doesn’t surprise me. Good on those actors who walked out.

HERE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT NEWS OF THE YEAR!!!

A grammar lesson on lay/lie/whatever.

There is a big boxing fight coming up.

We like Emanuel Pacquiao because he is small. We admire him because he will tuck his head and duck inside the dangerous space made by a much larger man, where he will punch upward, like a deranged songbird pecking away at a cat. We like Manny because this situation reminds us of his childhood, wherein a backwoods Filipino boy, so poor he sometimes survived on a single meal a day, stole away for the city, where he punched other children for pennies. We like him because now, when he goes back home, he receives long lines of his hungry countrymen like a generous king. He pays their bills. He builds them hospitals.

There is going to be a Dr. Seuss museum!

When Dr. Seuss wrote the words “Oh, the places you’ll go!,” he may never have imagined that would mean Springfield — his birthplace — for travelers from around the globe. Pretty soon, there will be a museum dedicated to his work in children’s literature in the city — the first of its kind in the world.

Few people showed up to a march for Rekia Boyd and it is a painful reminder that we forget how black women’s lives matter too.

Edwidge Danticat writes about missing her mother.

I had walked the 15 or so blocks between the Newkirk Avenue subway station and my parents’ house in East Flatbush for 25 years, but never with such a sense of dread. My mother had recently died of ovarian cancer, and I wanted to revisit that stretch of Avenue D that she and I had sauntered, strolled and marched along together throughout much of my life. I wanted to see if she would still be walking these same streets — alone, invisibly, without me.

 

These ladies know their alcohol.

Bridget Firtle interrupts our interview when an alarm sounds. The water has reached the right temperature for the next stage of making mash. I watch as she drives a forklift truck carrying 3,200lb of the thick, black molasses to siphon into the bubbling tank, the room filling with a sugary aroma.

“I wasn’t always so good at this bit,” Firtle tells me, while doing a three-point turn around a pillar in the middle of her Bushwick distillery, The Noble Experiment. “There’s a giant hole in the wall over there to prove it.”

As far as we’ve come in terms of gender stereotypes in the workplace, the assumption remains that distilleries are a man’s world – it conjures images of stout gentlemen quaffing drams of whiskey and mumbling appreciatively beneath a set of whiskers.

I really enjoy the website Eater.

Meryl Streep stays awesome.

I am always fascinated by amnesia. This woman woke up and it was the future and nothing made sense.

Naomi Jacobs was a 32-year-old single mother living in Manchester, England, when she went to sleep on April 30, 2008. She lived in a small flat with her ten-year-old son Leo and their cat Sophia. At the time, she was unemployed, but she had gone back to school, where she was pursuing a degree in psychology. When Naomi woke up the next morning, she didn’t remember any of this. Instead, she woke up believing she was 15 years old, bewildered by how she had ended up in the future.

The Whitney got her hair did.

The Lex, San Francisco’s last lesbian bar, is closing.

The Lexington Club is packed, shoulder to shoulder. It’s been this way for nearly an hour. All those bodies have made the Mission District bar warm and loud.

A pool table has been shoved into a corner and a microphone stand sits on top. A little after 8 p.m., Joey “Cupcake” Stevenson climbs up. She quiets the crowd and makes a few announcements, and the eulogies begin.

One after another, people come to the microphone to share their memories — of spin the bottle and bathroom fights, love stories and ghost stories. Stories about community and stories about loss. “I’m scared of how it’s going to feel to miss you,” somebody says.

And everybody gets it: The Lex is closing.

Blah blah blah Drake blah blah blah. Still, this was an interesting profile.

I appreciated this article on designing for people with disabilities.

The cane soon became a source of self-consciousness. “My eyeglasses would get compliments,” she told me, “but my cane would get a funny tilt of the head from people, as if they were thinking, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ” For months, she was despondent. One thing that helped her recovery was finding a purple cane, while browsing online, to replace her drab, hospital-issued one. “I went from walking hunched down, wanting to hide, to actually being proud of it,” she said. Sometime afterward, she was shopping at J.Crew, her favorite store, and it occurred to her that her cane would look beautiful with the brand’s Kelly-green T-shirts. That led her to begin asking J.Crew, through e-mails, blog posts, and open letters published on Facebook and Twitter, if it would sell a fashionable cane—to broaden its customer reach and to help ease the stigma attached to assistive devices.

BYE FELICIA!

Nothing Even Matters 

 

 

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