I watched the Oscars tonight with two friends who came over and prior to that I cleaned my apartment, ridded the place of the remaining wine bottles and food cartons that had filled it in the past four days. And I made jokes on the internet and found the whole thing silly and I guess that’s, I don’t know, the first part of getting over something very sad that’s happened. I felt...
The Daily What the Fuck Are You Kidding Me
langer: Um, idk, seems to me like maybe scolding a victim for not coping the way you think she ought to be coping is the real All Kinds of Wrong of the Day here? Just a thought. “I’ll never forget that night.” Whoever wrote that really needs to turn off the screens go take a walk outside.
Please don’t click through unless you want to read poetry about my weekend written on an iPhone on an Amtrak train. They ate fish and steak with the sun in their eyes for Anthony’s 95th birthday. There were, what, four, five generations? Surely there were people there born before any of this was built, all this along the water. (Imagine it then! Imagine the Indians!) And surely...
Remember on The Sopranos when Tony gets shot and is in the coma and has that dream or vision of an alternate life or whatever it is where he’s still Tony but he’s normal and boring and is just a shlubby, affable businessman? I’m on the Amtrak right now sitting next to John McCain’s version of that.