"Girl with a Pearl Earring" Finger Painting on iPad mini (by セイコウ 山岡)
A couple of weeks ago, I was scheduled to take a trip from New York (JFK) to Los Angeles on JetBlue. Every year, my family goes on a one-week pilgrimage, where we put our work on hold and spend time visiting temples, praying, and spending time with family and friends. To my Jewish friends, I often…
Without sex, we would be dangerously invulnerable. We might believe we were not ridiculous. We wouldn’t know rejection and humiliation so intimately. We could age respectably, get used to our privileges and think we understood what was going on. We might disappear into numbers and words alone. It is sex that creates a necessary havoc in the ordinary hierarchies of power, status, money and intelligence…
We might even embrace the pain sex causes us, for without it we wouldn’t know art and music quite so well. … When every contemptuous but fair thing has been said about our infernal sexual desires, we can still celebrate them for not allowing us to forget for more than a few days at a time what is really involved in living an embodied, chemical and largely insane human life."
HI. I am Amanda and I am a stand up comedian living in Toronto, Ontario. I have been doing stand up for over five years and I am madly in love with it. I have experienced my fair share of sexism in my career, much like many of my fellow female comics have. I had gotten really good at turning a…
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost."
For a great portion of my young adult life, I believed that great artists were all tortured souls. I thought that talent was something born of great personal suffering, mental illness, and a driving need to escape into creativity. I was also told by those who wanted to guide me that it would be…
Last Night I Dreamt I Went to Sleep No More Again:
Intertextuality and Indeterminacy at Punchdrunk’s McKittrick Hotel
The opening line of Hitchcock’s Rebecca, “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” posits a ruined English estate as encoded dream content. The line is spoken in…
10,000 anti-fascist demonstrators in Dresden yesterday, the beginning of the 68th anniversary of the Allied firebombing of the city in 1945, formed a human chain to block neo-Nazi protesters from marching. Neo-Nazi protesters have, in the past, used Dresden’s anniversary to stage mock funerals to mourn the death and the fall of the Third Reich, but in recent years anti-fascists have begun to outnumber them. There were only 800 to the 10,000-strong human chain this year.
Arno Burgi/European Pressphoto Agency
Dorothy Parker’s telegram to her editor.
This are my thoughts at almost every deadline, but especially with this novel. The story is finally where I want it, but there are still so many rough edges I want to cry. I want every syllable to be brilliant.
Never have done such hard night and day work never have so wanted anything to be good and all I have is a pile of paper covered with wrong words.
David gets turned in tomorrow, wrong words and all.
(PS: Thank God for copyedits.)
Dorothy forever. Who among us has not felt this?
Ugh, so true.
City lights photographed from the International Space Station and Neurons imaged with fluorescence microscopy.
But what are the names of the cities?
I took this last year, but in retrospect, I think it’s my strongest piece from high school.
Working on this project really made me examine my own opinions, preconceptions and prejudices about “slutty” women and women who choose to cover all of their skin alike. I used to assume that all women who wore Hijabs were being oppressed, slut-shame, and look down on and judge any woman who didn’t express her sexuality in a way that I found appropriate.
I’d like to think I’m more open now.
The New York Times would like to issue corrections for the wedding announcement of Mr. Adam Penview to Ms. Katie Jasper that ran in yesterday’s paper.
We incorrectly identified in the announcement that Mr. Adam Penview and Ms. Katie Jasper were married at the Church of the Holy Trinity in…
I’m currently sitting on a train in Ottawa on my way home to Toronto.
Literally sitting; the train hasn’t moved in four hours. There’s a blockade of the tracks which is part of a much larger solidarity protest across Canada. Native Canadians are demanding action in the form of access to the basic…