quiddities and agonies of the ruling class - a rolling new york times thread

i mean she obv has an attraction to the "spiritual" but good grief

im temped imagine myself plunging through a window and onto the unforgiving patio below after only reading the article!

only to have your fall broken by fresh spinach and basil

lol some girl i dont really know just linked to this shit on facebook - she works (worked?) at a magazine

good god who is she friends with that let her write an article so long about something so trivial & uninteresting

i liked the article & felt bad 4 this lady

i stopped reading

dont think its really that presumptuous or terrible to write a long article abt the effects of unemployment & dealing w/ the fallout of having p much yr whole world torn away. what that felt like & looked like how a person deals w/ it idk felt like she p thoughtful & earnest & true

http://www.theonion.com/articles/sometimes-area-woman-just-feels,17072/

*rolls eyes*

sometimes in life we have 2 stop and gaze @ the eggs

When I had a job, I never thought about eggs

would be a GREAT opening line for a short story

When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous egg.

fuck I gazed @ so many eggs when I took drawing classes as a kid

Well, all's well that ends well, right? Except that, uh, Browning already wrote this book-or at least, a very similar one. And the Times wrote about it. As Alex Witchel reported in 2002, Browning's book Around the House and in the Garden: A Memoir of Heartbreak, Healing and Home Improvement chronicled "her long sadness and [her] house's decay"—the story of "a woman who has experienced loss and pain and has mended, somewhat."

gawker, lol

also do you get it she lost her nest egg so now she gaze at eggs HAH so clever

i'm just gonna put this out there:

i've known the brownings forever, and they are like, uh, really educated plutocrats who own wide swaths of farmland in southern rhode island that they make a lot of noise about "preserving" for "future generations" while selling off less attractive for irresponsible subdevelopment projects.

i've known the brownings forever, and they are like, uh, really educated plutocrats who own wide swaths of eggs in southern rhode island that they make a lot of noise about "preserving" for "future generations" while selling off less attractive for irresponsible subdevelopment projects.

eggs are such a good metaphor think baout it

sometimes they are white somtimes they are brown

Here's a good companion piece:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/fashion/14moms.html?ref=style

― hills like white people (Hurting 2), Sunday, March 14, 2010 11:26 PM (2 weeks ago)

savages, truly

i assume whiney hasn't seen that

the people in that piece aren't terrible -- bored housewives be bored housewives -- shit is just the new scrapbooking, i won't hate

which came first: the brownings or the eggs

nah i think those people are pretty terrible

once i had naturally purple duck eggs. neat!

i seen greenish speckled chicken eggs no lie

guyz don't miss her blog

http://www.slowlovelife.com/

Why is it sometimes so hard to enjoy being happy? Just yesterday I got an email from an editor saying he loved the piece I had rather fearfully sent him. I was elated! Joy! Success! But within seconds, I was on to worrying about edits, and other assignments, and the dust balling up in the hallway, and the soot on the windowsills.

My mind spun through the hundred tiny vexing things I had to do, when suddenly I came to a word: STOP. Literally, it loomed up, a cherry red stop sign, filling my brain. STOP?

Yes. That’s when I realized I wasn’t letting myself be happy. Was it superstition? If I’m happy, that means I could become unhappy…. Was it fear? How hard it is to give into happiness. Was it just that unrelenting, driven, monkey mind saying ‘Not good enough! Nothing is ever good enough!’ Whatever the reason, it seemed suddenly absurd. I wasn’t letting myself fill up with the joy of a small accomplishment, I wasn’t giving myself credit for something well done, and I wasn’t simply, well, enjoying the moment. Don’t you love how the word enjoy has the word joy embedded in it? Being in the joy.

that post continues, by the way

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/29/nyregion/29roommates.html?hpw

Don’t you love how the word enjoy has the word joy embedded in it? Being in the joy.

This is making my head hurt, for real.

And don't you love how the word embedded has the word bed embedded in it?

C/D: white people who have been to a yoga class using the phrase "monkey mind"

, enjoy

eh, monkey mind can be a useful concept sometimes

Don’t you love how the word monkey mind has the word useful concept embedded in it? I am fucking crazy.

you like to fart, you are crazy

that's a good blog--this excerpt and the fact that she stared at a dictionary in awe all afternoon suggests bigger problems than no job:

I kept looking up the word “entropy” in the dictionary, staring in awe at the definitions, they so perfectly captured the spirit of my deranged soul.

its pretty shocking that any unemployment memoir in this day and age wouldn't include the phrase i spent all day online

I think it's just taken as a given

its could all possibly be metaphors for the diff blogs she visited

maybe 'I kept looking up the word “entropy” in the dictionary, staring in awe at the definitions, they so perfectly captured the spirit of my deranged soul.' just means 'I visited ilx'

layup

the blog reads like a 21st century version of the yellow wallpaper

captured the spirit of my deranged soul

Derangement can be a very healthy development for people whose normal range is badly trivialized.

"The tides are sculpted by storms, moons, and winds; they are by turns subtle and violent, yet utterly reliable in the rhythm of their leaving, and returning. And here is a photo i call 'Fucking Turtles'."

haah

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/05/bloggers-discuss-race-and-the-census/

didn't read, mind you

Grand Hotel Courts Hip With a Dance Party

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/12/nyregion/12pierre.html

And while the bar offers top-shelf libations — Veuve Clicquot, Johnnie Walkers Black and Blue, Macallan 25 — the budget-minded can easily nurse an $8 beer or one of the $14 specialty cocktails all night long.

the best thing about that article is that "the pierre hotel" is given no explanation or set-up before being deployed as a punchline because the author simply assumes her readers will know exactly what it is