"But there was nothing about the little, low-rambling, more or less identical homes of Northumberland Estates to interest or to haunt, no chance of loot that would be any more than the ordinary, waking-world kind the cops hauled you in for taking; no
small immunities, no possibilities for hidden life or otherworldly presence; no trees, secret routes, shortcuts, culverts, thickets that could be made hollow in the middle – everything in the place was right out in the open, everything could be seen at a glance; and behind it, under it, around the corners of its houses and down the safe, gentle curves of its streets, you came back, you kept coming back, to nothing; nothing but the cheerless earth."
Thomas Pynchon, "The Secret Integration"
This is Ian Mathers' Tumblr. I live in Canada. I've written about music and other things for Stylus, PopMatters, Resident Advisor, the Village Voice, and a few other places. Hi.
Psychology, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor
talk about yer unknown unknowns
I assume the problem is both having literally fewer bits of evidence that they’re not assholes to point to and not being able to articulate that they’re not assholes as well, but now I’m curious if those two factors are roughly even or if one weighs more heavily.
On a lot of days, Painful is my favourite Yo La Tengo record. I bought it for very pre-Internet reasons years ago; I’d heard a couple of Yo La Tengo songs I really liked, got and listened to the then-new And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out (on a lot of other days my favourite Yo La Tengo record), read a bunch of reviews of their older stuff, and then bought Painful because I liked the cover art and the song titles and was excited to see that it was almost a full 30 minutes shorter than And Then Nothing…
I was surprised to see that “From a Motel 6” has not one but two videos; the original is a perfectly fine performance clip, but I much prefer the one Hal Hartley did, which is the performance clip equivalent of a very dry joke.
Hangovers, translated, from A Few Too Many
In honor of tonight’s overindulgence and tomorrow’s consequences, one of my favorite New Yorker essays of all time.
words! i love words!
All I had to drink last night was water, but I love this. A howling of kittens! Made of rubber!