if you put a bed on stage
you have a bedroom
if you put a sink & two chairs
you have a kitchen
what if there’s only a child
applying foundation to his pristine face
what do you have then?
when a person’s dead onstage
does the audience burn
the scenery or applaud?
does the lighting designer kill
all the lights? though the words
may be the playwright’s
the framework is the inferno’s
furnace dressed in her paper
paper gown. what if the child
disappears into wings
the curtain rising finds
no one left to applaud
what if the child learns
to dance, what if he can’t
my god, what if he tries to sing?
8. Woman says of man’s grisly anecdote, “Sometimes I wonder how many things you have like that that I don’t know about.”
7. Man says, “I’m a piece of shit but that boy is all I have in my shitty life.”
6. Man says to female co-worker, “You pull off that e-cig. A lot of people don’t. …Maybe it’s too close to sucking a robot’s dick.”
5. Sane and caring wife who was raped frets about why her husband is so messed up.
4. Detective stands in ransacked house and says, “Somebody was looking for something.”
3. Psychiatrist wears sunglasses inside, at his desk.
2. Man says to woman, “Sometimes a good beating provokes personal growth.”
1. Man says to woman, “Well, so you know, I support feminism. Mostly by having body issues.”
This comically incorrect
ranking of the Songs of the Summer reminded me that is the
twentieth anniversary of
the New York Times Magazine’s “The No. 1 Summer Song of
Love,” which, if you don’t remember (or weren’t yet literate),
goes a little like this:
What becomes a Summer Love Song most? That is a tricky question, for like love itself, the song cannot always be measured by traditional means; both science and intuition play a role in its creation. But there are certain patterns. For instance, the song is usually a ballad and addressed to a universal lover, so that any teen-ager can fill in its “I love you” sentiment afresh, like a blank Valentine card. The song will become a hit, of course, but not necessarily the biggest hit of the summer. It will be neither a dance track (too impersonal) nor a novelty song (too goofy) nor a song with a message (too earnest). If it is a country song or a rap song, it must transcend its genre, because the Summer Love Song turns up at high-school proms and weddings in every kind of American neighborhood. Crucially, the song will feature at its core something indescribably sublime — a bone-deep groove or a lover’s moan — that helps it survive over time. For the Summer Love Song’s true role is to carry the moment into the future, not as history, but as a madeleine of pleasure and heartbreak.
Okay! Anyway, it says here that nothing is going to unseat “Trap Queen” this year and I don’t care how many money-deficient bitches Rihanna has to eviscerate to unseat him.
“But the younger Grier’s star is rising swiftly in its own right: His Instagram account, whose shirtless pics and up-close selfies rocketed him to fame less than two years ago, has roughly as many followers — 3.9 million — as those of Neil Patrick Harris and Michelle Obama combined. All told, his Vines — which tend toward Jackass-lite stunts, innocuous physical comedy, and brief snapshots of life on tour — have been looped more than 300 million times. At this point, the Grier brothers are so famous that they can’t go to a mall or amusement park or high school football game without being mobbed. They are so famous that the rest of their family has become famous too, osmotically and apparently without even trying: At the L.A. stop of the tour we’re currently on, dozens of girls (and a not-insignificant number of moms) clamored to take pictures with their father, Chad, better known as “Dad” to many of the fans. Hayes and Nash’s half sister, Skylynn, who’s frequently featured in their videos and photos, has more than 1.3 million Vine followers. She’s 5.”#
★★★★ Now the sun bore down a bit, and the air in the park felt dusty. Starlings, one drab with new plumage, foraged in the clover and grass. Honeybees cruised low. A white stretch limousine, its rearmost window partway down, rolled to a stop outside the brassy Trump Internarional canopy. A sawdust smell rode the breeze up Lafayette. Out on the fire escape in the afternoon, the patch of sun went away and a chilly wind began blowing. A crow cawed loudly and flapped down to perch on a coil of barbed wire against the suddenly dark sky. The clouds thinned again, but there was still something damp and feverish on the air. The radar map on the phone couldn’t quite make the case against fireworks in Astoria. Some drops fell in the late Manhattan sun on the way to the subway. When the N train emerged in Queens, the light was dim and the wind tossed hair and branches. On the walk west to the park, orange rifts and a drifting mass of darker gray met in the big sky afforded by the ahuman scale of the expressway leading to the Triboro Bridge. Hip-high weeds pressed in on the edges of sidewalk. The lower clouds moved north so fast that the higher ones seemed to be moving in retrograde. Under the weight of the three-year-old, jumping and smashing down onto a supine body on the lawn, water seeped up through the blanket to dampen the back of the shirt. The ebbing light raised a few pinks and warm browns in the sky. The fireworks went up; now and then a raindrop came down. After the display was over, a yellow smudge opposite resolved itself into a blurry near-round moon, and then into a crisp one.
It may seem a little weird that a company which primarily sells leaves has raised nearly as much venture capital as the most insurgent advertising agency of our day, but when one considers in full the context in which Sweetgreen has amassed ninety-five million dollars, the logic of it will comfortably subsume you like a warm grain bowl.
The platforms: they’re creeping. There’s Twitter:
On Twitter’s mobile app, there will be a new button in the center of the home row. Press it and you’ll be taken to a screen that will show various events taking place that people are tweeting about. These could be based on prescheduled events like Coachella, the Grammys, or the NBA Finals. But they might also focus on breaking news and ongoing events, like the Nepalese earthquake or Ferguson, Missouri. Essentially, if it’s an event that a lot of people are tweeting about, Twitter could create an experience around it.
In partnership with Storyful, a social news agency we’ve worked with since protests broke out in Tahrir Square in 2011, we’re rolling out the YouTube Newswire, a curated feed of the most newsworthy eyewitness videos of the day, which have been verified by Storyful’s team of editors and are embeddable from the original sources.
Instagram has real-time coverage of almost everything happening in the world. Now its unlocking that content with a revamped Explore tab featuring Trending Tags, Trending Places, curated content, plus a new Places Search. You’ll be able to see all the photos from Father’s Day or Coachella, scope out your next vacation spot, or see photos of important topics chosen by Instagram’s team.
About which founder Kevin Systrom tells
The Holy Grail is to give people the sense of now and what’s happening now. The gap between something happening in the world and you knowing about it is becoming fractionally small. I think we’re all in a race as companies to provide you that information.
For some time now, Snapchat has been offering something similar: collections of videos and photos created in or about places and events, slotted in between your contacts. These “Stories” feel like a more natural extension of Snapchat than the channels in its Discover page, a strange and sickly panel inhabited mostly by outside media companies. Vine’s human-moderated channels are, in addition to the platform’s homegrown celebrities, which they routinely feature, the app’s main attraction. Instagram’s human-moderated tags alternate between broad bordering on incoherent (collections like #lightning and #calendar) and focused, deep documents about cultural events. (It’s effective mainly as a showcase of the sheer amount of primary material posted to Instagram; it’s more thorough, in this respect, than almost any conceivable celebrity publication.)
Since channels like this feature at least some editorial oversight, it is tempting to see them as a sign of the re-humanization of the platforms; to suggest that they are evidence, or confirmation, that audiences cannot survive by algorithm or feed alone. This is comforting because it implies a basic flaw in the systems that are increasingly dominating the internet—a flaw that, in a satisfying turn, can only be fixed by the very people who feel most marginalized. It is also wrong.