on silence

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.

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are we really being mean to melania?

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.

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