Up close, the beach was disgusting and tragic. A million tiny pieces of plastic were heaped on the shore like confetti from a hundred parades, or like the real sand on the beach threw up.
Samantha Irby discusses her new collection, We Are Never Meeting in Real Life, her reluctance to call herself a writer, and writing for the “cream jeans” crowd.
There is no singular Muslim story, no definitive identity for the entire religion. [...] Here, four women discuss what it's like to be a minority in America in 2017, post-9/11 and post-Trump.
If there is no distinction between show and commercial, ethics and entertainment, what kind of distinctions, if any, exists between her imaginary play, her consumer life, and our reality?
A friend of my parents, who was the girlfriend of a roadie for the Grateful Dead, gave me this hologram skull and roses bolo tie when I was around five years old.