Sublime
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could also have said that it’s a critique, an embodied critique of the middle-class cult of personal safety. It’s a rejection of the belief that every vulnerability should be protected, and that the central project of our lives is to undo our own precarity. It’s a refusal of a way of life devoted to insurance.
Eula Biss • Having and Being Had
Interpreter of Maladies: On Virginia Woolf’s Writings About Illness and Disability
Gabrielle Bellotlithub.comThis book is for anyone who over-gives and depletes themselves in the process of serving their families, clients, patients, or communities.
Anne Berube • The Burnout Antidote
On those quiescent days, she was her normal self, the self she understood and had confidence in. On those days, she could almost convince herself that Dr. Davis and the genetic counselor had been wrong, or that the last six months had been a horrible dream, only a nightmare, the monster under her bed and clawing at her covers not real.
Lisa Genova • Still Alice
In the context of health and ecology, things that grow unchecked are often considered parasitic or cancerous. Yet we inhabit a culture that privileges novelty and growth over the cyclical and the regenerative. Our very idea of productivity is premised on the idea of producing something new, whereas we do not tend to see maintenance and care as prod
... See moreJenny Odell • How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy
Paul Dalla Rosa reads from ‘Comme’
youtube.comLook at them scuttling like rats from a sinking ship . . . and what they running from? A COLD? These people are crazy. Just wash your damn hands! Ain’t complicated. They out here acting like it’s THE END OF THE WORLD. These people make me laugh. You see me running? I’m not scared of this shit! I’m gonna be scared of the flu? In what world? No, no,
... See moreZadie Smith • Intimations: Six Essays
It was all I could do to get through each moment, and each moment felt like an endless hour, yet days slipped silently past. Time unused and only endured still vanishes, as if time itself is starving, and each day is swallowed whole, leaving no crumbs, no memory, no trace at all.
Elisabeth Tova Bailey • The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating
It is a very grave matter to be forced to imitate a people for whom you know—which is the price of your performance and survival—you do not exist. It is hard to imitate a people whose existence appears, mainly, to be made tolerable by their bottomless gratitude that they are not, thank heaven, you.