"In his latest project, Hysterical Literature, photographer Clayton Cubitt takes a beautiful woman, places her at a table in front of a black backdrop and gets her to read from her favorite book while an unseen accomplice below the table attempts to bring the woman to orgasm with a vibrator." NSFW! Stoya, girl. [Criminal Wisdom]
I’m single again—for the first time since I moved to New York City—and I’ve been thinking a lot about how to meet people. Specifically, I've been thinking a lot about how to meet interesting guys.
Sometimes I fantasize that I’ll be doing two weeks’ worth of laundry and collide with the love of my life while moving my whites from the washer to the dryer, but that hasn’t happened yet. And I’m not opposed to online dating per se, but I’ve tried it before, when I lived in Washington, DC, a few years ago. One K Street lawyer, upon introducing himself to me at the sleazily lit subterranean wine bar [...]
Oh, what an eventful week for New Year's Resolution keeping. A hearty thank you to the severe bout of gastroenteritis that laid waste to my plans and my will to live; 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good, for I instead did a glorious amound of reading. Let's go ahead and lay it out in chronological order, the better to chart the course of said illness and recovery.
Day One, 9:15pm – You have just finished some Chinese takeout, after feeling uncharacteristically apathetic towards it. You recall feeling weird and extra-sweaty at the gym earlier. As you watch The Thick of It, you wonder why the dulcet tones [...]
In classier election-related news, Elizabeth Harball tells us all about what poems presidents like (or claim to like) reading.
Woodrow Wilson was famously fond of reading and writing limericks. When the future president was speaking to a large crowd in Jersey City in 1908, a man heckled him and shouted, “You ain’t no beaut.” Wilson responded with this limerick by Anthony Euwer:
For beauty I am not a star; There are others handsomer, far; But my face, I don't mind it, For I am behind it; ‘Tis the people in front that I jar.
The incident received so much press that the limerick is often misattributed to Wilson.[...]
Hello! I'm excited to announce (and encourage you to buy!) the travel anthology "An Experience Definitely Worth Allegedly Having: Travel Stories From The Hairpin." It's a Kindle Serial featuring eight longform, never-before-published non-fiction stories from eight frequent Hairpin/Awl-world contributors: Carrie Frye, Jim Behrle, Maria Bustillos, Anne Helen Petersen, Chiara Atik, Nicole Cliffe, Jenna Wortham, and me. Each story takes about 10 minutes or so to read, and the whole thing costs $1.99. From the Amazon description:
Like The Hairpin, these essays are funny, weird, adventurous, and moving. There are stories about following a mysterious stranger’s maps in Mexico, attending endless step aerobics classes in Buenos Aires, faking a terrible [...]
Long before Girls debuted, I was addicted to books featuring eye-on-the-main-chance nouvelles. This yen becomes particularly intense in the month of May, when a slew of new graduates set out for cities big and small, where they’ll work hard, take risks, and make a lot of mistakes. They will triumphantly secure dilapidated apartments and promptly learn to loathe them. Their suitors will be puerile and sophisticated, reckless and devoted. Some friends will become like family, while others will simply disappear. Mercurial bosses and duplicitous colleagues usually make an appearance. The women themselves are certainly imperfect characters, but they’re almost always intelligent, a bit peculiar, and above all, hell-bent on [...]
If you're reading this sentence, chances are you're reading it silently (if you're reading it out loud, hey, that's cool too). Your lips aren't moving, you're not making any sound that other people can hear. But are you making "sound" in your head? Many people who read silently do so by imagining a voice speaking the words they are reading (and often, it's your own voice, so there's even a specific "tone." I wonder if this is what makes people react so strongly to some blog posts).
Scicurious looks at whether we're hearing what we're seeing when we're reading without speaking.
I have summer fever. To me, this seasonal state involves the desire to sit poolside, a book next to me opened to damply thumbed pages, the scent of chlorine and coconut sunscreen in the air, and a cold lemonade within reach creating a puddle of condensation where it rests. Maybe it’s not a pool. I could be lying upon the sand with an ocean view, or reclining on a hammock hung on a porch, or even indoors in the comfort of air-conditioning on the hottest of summer days. Wherever I am I’m eating a popsicle, and, most likely, I’m reading a book.
There are a great many excellent summer [...]
Baz Lurhmann’s The Great Gatsby lindy-hopped away with over 50 million dollars this past weekend and inspired New York's Kathryn Schulz to put together a thought-provoking takedown of the source material: “Aesthetically overrated, psychologically vacant, and morally complacent,” she declared last week.
Schultz points out, rightly, that no one in the book is worth a bottle of bathtub gin: What does our narrator Nick do when swaggering douchebag Tom breaks his mistress Myrtle’s nose, for example? Nothing. But the really detestable member of the bunch is Daisy, who has no character. She spends the book being languidly beautiful and wealthy, ignoring her child, flirting with her cousin, and [...]
I do not blame the internet, let's be clear about that. I blame my own inability to imbibe the internet responsibly. Before the internet, I probably read two books a day. I read exceptionally quickly; I have always looked at a page, and instead of reading word-word-word I see paragraph-paragraph-paragraph and it goes in like GULP, and then I turn the page. It's a decent party trick, and it's been good to me. In recent years, I have not been good to it. If I'm doing a formal book review, I turn on "Scholar and Gentlewoman" mode, and all is well, or if it's, like, the new Zadie Smith or [...]