"While it’s hard to quantify how many people experience blackouts, social media has definitely made the problem more visible. Adolescents and young adults now increasingly use Facebook and Instagram to figure out where they were the night before and what they were doing."
Limelight Marketplace, the mall that has taken over the old Limelight space in the even-older Church Of The Holy Communion, is now open for business — complete with club-kid mannequins, flip-flop kiosk, and the obligatory "oh look we're in New York we're so fun and kooky, ack chocolate!" cupcake outpost. [Via]
I admire the depth of Christine Smallwood’s impressive research into bed-wetting therapies ['Are You Sleeping?,' Forum, August]. One treatment she neglected to mention, however, was the method my mother used: she brought me in from playing outdoors, stood me before my bed, forced my head down, and rubbed my face in the soiled sheet. I’ll bet her 'cure' was not an uncommon practice back in the 1940s. And while I did later have occasional incontinence issues on the playground, I never again wet the bed. Success — except for the sad memories.
Noreen Ayres Henryville, Pa."
"Dear Parents, I disown you. I've tried for ten years, but you've Wrecked it. I'll never Speak to you again. Your x child, Jessica." Awl pal Jess Grose, forced to examine her personal archives before her parents move house, discovers this gem of 10-year-old indignation. God, remember when everything seemed that important?
For my tenth birthday my mom took me out of school and we drove into the city, where we ate lunch at Sardi's and caught a matinee of Nine, a musical she had seen earlier in the year with my father and the soundtrack to which they had played in the house or the car with a fair degree of regularity thereafter. I loved it. I somehow did not grow up to be a homosexual, even though my parents also took us to the opera a lot. Anyway, I saw the trailer for the forthcoming movie adaptation on Jezebel today, and, well, whatever.
"'When I think about Instagram, I think about moments,' said [CEO Kevin] Systrom. He's explaining how life is short and taking pictures is the only way to preserve memories destroyed by naturally declining brain functions, but in less words."
The story of Michelle Philpots, whose short term memory was destroyed following an accident in 1994, leaving her incapable of remembering much of anything past that year, is strange enough, but news being what it is, it does allow for a variety of cinematic comparisons. Groundhog Day gets a mention, as does 50 First Dates, but there are a couple of other obvious ones that are left off the roster for whatever reason. Anyway, this is an odd one. Poor Matt Lauer; this woman will never remember his name.