One day, as Runkel was being pushed across the street in her perambulator, she was overcome by such despair over her wretched life that she wanted nothing more than for a heavy lorry, a cattle truck, a thousand-kilo road-roller or a team with three trailers to run over her horrible body and crush it.
Yellow Street, Vera Canzetti
Via a friend traveling in Belgium who found it in a bookstore and sent me a photo. Unclear if the edition linked is the same translation.
Let’s start with the simple case of creating elements from nothing.
Submitted by Natalie.
Rather they each follow the other in a perfect system called egg.
Grief lessons : four plays by Euripides, Anne Carson
"I have a youtube channel for funko pops" let me tell you something: bunny wilson would have killed and eaten you in his prime
Submitted by Kelsey last week but I forgot to add it.
Its lower body is par for the fishy course: a pearlescent ombré going from green to gray, its trunk girthy, its tail tapering and lithe.
"Living Water", Ash Sanders for The Baffler
Confidence intervals for finite samples can be obtained via the wild bootstrap.
Wikipedia entry for Shapely value
It is going to be taking a two story beer bong of your work email and then eat a gigabyte of recipe blogs.
Submitted by Christian last week but I forgot.
creature: an entity that is not readable, writable, or executable but that exists
The Exploit, Alexander R. Galloway and Eugene Thacker
Part of the stress of the last two weeks has been finalizing a big apartment move (I am officially a guy with a mortgage from a local credit union and member of an HDFC co-op, a kind of guy past versions of me would not recognize). This means I've started the always daunting task of deaccessioning books for the move, which involves flipping through the books and cringing at my early-20s marginalia.
An art history professor in undergrad who let me sneak into a graduate seminar assigned The Exploit because she and Alex Galloway were friends. His guest lecture might be how I first learned about Eyebeam. I'm not exactly saying that being exposed to critical theorizing of networks in 2007 changed my life but maybe it did? (I put the book in the "give away" pile nevertheless, sorry Alex and my art history professor T'ai who, fun fact, is sibling to the guy who showed up to Occupy Wall Street with the infamous "Shit Is Fucked Up And Bullshit" sign.)
But I'm imagining this is the Humpty Dumpty that's had to go on living knowing the world failed him in his darkest moment—a sort of Punished "Venom" Dumpty situation.
"Don't worry, Valve: I've got your next Deadlock character concepts sorted", Lincoln Carpenter for PC Gamer
Submitted by Wes.
Engineers were initially baffled, but Transport for Greater Manchester has now found the issues were caused by slugs "entering the signal controller, causing short circuits", the Local Democracy Reporting Service said.
"Slugs to blame for mystery of faulty traffic lights", Ed Barnes for the BBC
Submitted by Kira.
Lurking around the edges of the spring collections like a faint echo of last year’s grunge moment, sensitive ears could detect an apocalyptic rumble in the flat belly of Fashion, a hankering demanding belchlike to be released: restive with its own perfection, Fashion needed to inoculate itself against its own monotonous flawlessness with a homeopathic supplement of “reality” in the form of “real people” models.
"Model-For-A-Day", Rhonda Lieberman for Artforum
Via Adina's Instagram stories. This led me down a rabbit hole of Lieberman's "Glamour Wounds" column, which had its share of bangers. A runner-up from 1992:
Rich as hell, but old and alone, Coco Chanel spent her final years at the Ritz, wheezing, increasingly cranky, and sensitized to other people’s odors.
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