"If you understand it, it's not God."
Increasingly, the decoupling of “kinds of sexual predilection from degrees of masculinity and femininity” is being grounded in “biblical relationships” among rural white masculinist evangelicals.
Keep your bat signal, your blinking red phone. Dammit Jim! I’m no super hero!
There’s a meme going around asking “what radicalized you?”
We didn’t pray to God, we wished upon the stars, which we kept in a magical, flickering box in the den…
My old college friend Mia asked me for suggestions for reading for her father, a Jungian psychoanalyst with some time on his hands who, she says, is a little bored.
I’m working on my dreaded “get-to-know-you” video for my A-term course, and finally settled on my “one thing you probably didn’t know about me” thing…
If Hemingway or Henry Miller decided all the sudden to join a monastery, they would basically have ended up being Thomas Merton. Whatever theory of his untimely death you land on, Merton was as manly a monk in that mid-century American mold as could be imagined.
I kept waiting for Schnabel to make the connection between Vincent’s turbulent paintings, which he worked on in a constant manic frenzy, and his life–how he was in life.
I’m fine with pineapple on pizza.
Suffice it to say: Pompeo likes to talk about the rapture, a lot.
