Several weeks ago, I was peacefully lying in bed drifting off to sleep when I felt a conspicuous, featherweight tickling sensation along my bare calf.
Several weeks ago, I was peacefully lying in bed drifting off to sleep when I felt a conspicuous, featherweight tickling sensation along my bare calf.
To understand the dicks of the bird world, we must confront the dicks within.
This steady, slow, rhythmatic, nurturing of a living thing, watching it grow from a slip of green to a thriving, lush being, provides a vital tether to the present, and to my surroundings.
A day bath? In this economy? Capitalism makes the idea appalling — sickening, even. Idle leisure has a terrible ROI.
“There was a lot of pressure to bring out ‘whales,’ and talk about how you got this beer or how long you waited in line. For lack of a better term, it was a dick-measuring contest, and I wasn’t tasting anything.”
“Being a trans woman who’s a lifter is not the most common thing in the world. It feels really good being here.”
“How can we resist these toxic systems that want us to be disconnected, that want us to work 80 hours a week, that want us to feel like we’re not worthy unless we’re producing something? This isn’t just about naps.”
It’s a white T-shirt, a pair of sensible heels, a chambray blouse. It’s pretty hard to get wrong.
Mathematizing one’s intake can feel at odds with our modern way of talking about health and wellness. It’s the stuff of rice cakes and Olestra chips — a hallmark of a bygone era.
Terms like “detox” and “cleanse” have gained credence in a post-Goop world, but the idea of ridding ourselves of our own internal filth has been around for much longer.
Two years later, panic giving has become a coping mechanism of choice for many who feel whipsawed by breaking news alerts, tense election cycles and executive orders.
“If standing up for people whose voices are being drowned in society is ‘going too far,’ then we're very comfortable with that.”
“We spend a majority of our lives here. We’re all at our best and worst together.”
If Nakamura.ke feels like it came from a dream, that’s because it did.
“What I often think when I drink out of those glasses is, these people took their drink seriously.”
Elliott Street is a tiny blue collar stronghold, stubbornly sticking it out as all that glass and steel encroaches, as though someone cast a forcefield around it long before “mixed-use” entered our collective vernacular.
It took all of 30 seconds before the low-grade panic set in: I’m not supposed to be in here.