I flew in from London last night, where I lived, for four days, cloistered in a dream. I did not see a single thing besides the interior spaces of the places where I was, and that was fine with me.
Back in reality, nothing new is happening. By nothing new, I mean that the Middle East is still blowing up, Putin is covertly (only to men who think rationally, which is a mistake, because megalomania is not rational) trying to reclaim the USSR and the media continues to try to find angles upon which to make money off of the incident in Ferguson.
Oh, also the MTV Video Music Awards happened.
When I turned on my phone on the tarmac in JFK, while we waited for some plane or another to clear a berth, and the gigantic man next to me continued to fart, I was like, “What do I even care enough to check?” And there was really and truly nothing. All that I wanted to do was sit in a dark room, smoke some ganja, and sing along to Lana Del Rey’s album “Ultraviolence.”
As it was, I was forced to look first at Kim Kardashian’s Instagram account, which as usual, was deeply unsatisfying. Then I signed onto the New York Times. “Foley, Isis, death, destruction, no ebola, massive losses of lives in Syria.” Once I was done skimming through that like it was the event listings in Time Out magazine, I opened my Daily Mail app. There stared at me Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus, dressed like complete prostitutes.
I have to say, the colors and the make-up and the showmanship on display at the awards were actually, for the first time in a very long time, completely jarring to me. It only took four days for me to dislodge myself from my programming, and to see that the culture that informs our world view is a deeply, deeply disturbing thing.
Livin’ on the edge #crazyboy
She is incredibly charming, humble and funny at times. She also has a really great radio voice.
I haven’t gotten around to reading any of her books, even though I was recommended The Signature of All Things (thank you Brie) but I really will read it, I swear.