i once dated someone who refused to use the word evil to describe anything because he didn’t like the overtones of moral judgment.
it was too harsh a word, too strong. i do wonder, in retrospect, if he truly felt there were nothing that could rise to the occasion of being legitimately evil. but i never asked so i do not know.
this is awful. i need solace. you know where i go for comfort, no?
you guessed it! the radiant, sunshiney world of jackie dolls on etsy. Continue reading
for the last few weeks, i’ve been working on a thing that lacks form– it may be an article or it may be a book.
it is, undoubtedly, a story in progress.
i’ve pursued it through haphazard writing and numerous conversations over expensive dinners i can’t really afford.
still, i do not know what it will be.
(via Getty)
i think it’s something though.
there is a there there.
it’s funny- not ha, ha funny, but, like, oh the whims of life funny (which is, maybe, really just an optimistic spin on super depressing)- how you can study culture for ages and then still be surprised by it.
still be like, oh look at this gross thing i’ve seen! yay cultural analysis and phd-level thinking! huzzah! and not realize that, in seeing that gross thing that one time, you will now be seeing that gross thing EVERYWHERE ALL OF THE TIME. because that is how culture works and this gross thing is now something you’ve trained your eyes to see.
remember those magic eye posters in the 90s? where if you squinted hard enough at a mosaic of 1000 pictures of al gore or marilyn monroe, a dolphin would emerge.
i could never see the dolphin.
i’ve always resented that so i tend to lean heavily on this metaphor to boast about the things i can see.
it’s small consolation. honestly, sometimes i’d rather have just seen the dolphin.
that is all a wind up to the buffet at which we find ourselves, in the neighborhood to which i never wanted to go. we have been here before. and before. and a few times after that as well. (if you are like, oline, wtf are you talking about, go forth, catch up, come back. i do not have the energy to recap.)
lest this give you the impression that i love this party, let me be clear: i do not. i am tired of these leftovers. i would like to go home.
alas.
i am not here to play. there will be no gifs.
my last post was about first ladies and whiteness, and lo! we meet at that potuck again.
(via the new england historical society)
let me begin by saying, unequivocally, no, no jackie kennedy was not the first Black first lady. michelle obama was the first Black first lady. Continue reading
well, well. so it’s one of those mornings where i went to bed thinking i’d write about one thing and woke up to discover i needed to write about something else.
(via @kimkardashian)
because last night this struck me as nothing, beyond its imminent usefulness to me.
an alarming life 
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