The things we hate this week, every week.
In my life, I’ve experienced little death. Not little death as in “la petite mort,” as in orgasm. Little death as in few funerals. As in only my grandfather’s. He’s been dead since August and ashes since September. My grandmother delayed the memorial until November, when her family could fly to Oregon and grieve together.
Simulacra and (Nipple) S(t)imulation Josie Ingall It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a Hanes Boys RibbedMore
I have a confession. Despite being a barista, amateur photographer, and English major, I’m not a huge fan of poetry. There areMore
Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream (1967) is the Freudian death drive veiled thinly behind the aesthetics ofMore
Interviews have been lightly edited for clarity. Five years ago, Yale established the Environmental Humanities program. Most scholars in the program wouldMore
“The contemporary trans movement as we know it now—with all its accomplishments and failures—could not have come to be without the Internet.”More
In his new album, Javelin, Sufjan Stevens gives the listener no time to settle into sadness. The album’s opener, “Goodbye Evergreen,” establishesMore
If you visit didshedoit.com, you will find yourself face to face with a gruesome photo. A man lies dead in the foreground,More