Posts Tagged: these things happen

Selfie Errors

"Thousands of pounds donated as part of the '#nomakeupselfie' craze were sent to Unicef instead of Cancer Research UK by mistake, the BBC has learned. More than £2m has been raised after the craze of taking a self-portrait with no make-up spread virally. But those texting 'DONATE' rather than 'BEAT' found their money sent to the wrong charity. Others accidentally enquired about adopting a polar bear from the World Wildlife Fund (WWF)."


I Saw Something Sad

Just now in Union Square I watched a well-dressed woman with wet eyes singing, "I love you, yes I do," into the empty baby carriage she was slowly pushing across the block. I should probably quit walking down the street. It's awful out there.


Happy Exxon Valdez Day!

"Twenty-five years ago on March 24, the oil tanker Exxon Valdez slammed into Bligh Reef and spilled more than 11 million gallons of crude oil into the cold, clear waters of Alaska's Prince William Sound — one of the 'last best places' on Earth. The oil charged through Prince William Sound and out into the Gulf of Alaska, damaging more than 1,300 miles of some of the most remote, wild shoreline in this country. This happened 25 years ago, so we might note the anniversary as we do any other historical event. That, however, would imply that the oil spill is over. [...]


Ikea Shelving And The Impossible Pursuit Of Perfection

For as long as I can remember, I've gone out of my way to enjoy eves, precipices and the part of a roller coaster right before that first drop. Even though I hate everything that comes next—and in the case of holidays and other special occasions, I bore easily. I just love the anticipation. Still, the night before my second book came out, all I could think about was my fucking record shelf.


Life Is The Hardest Commute Of All

You know that moment when, having been jammed up against the door in a crowded car, you sense your station approaching and pivot to face front and suddenly see yourself in the harsh, unflattering reflection of the train window and are forced to confront all that you are, the sad lump of skin and meat that you carry with you each day and are mostly successful at not thinking too much about? That near-simultaneous feeling of disgust ("Oh, God, you") and resignation ("I guess this is what I've got left to work with from now on") and the wearying comprehension that the difference between who you think you are [...]