Thought Catalog

Thought Reel

Beloved Never-Ending Network Stream

Latest Articles

Even though the presence of outside lyricists pulls against the most obvious autobiographical readings, Dark Night of the Soul sometimes treats these concerns with a self-awareness and gallows humor it’s difficult not to trace back to Linkous himself, as when Iggy Pop himself, rock’s paradoxically indestructible cartoon hero of self-destructiveness, is employed to intone “pain, pain, pain, I’ll always be in pain.”

The world is folded in upon itself. As Marshal McLuhan noted ages ago, the electronic age ushers in the global village. And is a global village. As night falls and I ready for bed, women in the Philippines are just rising. I see the early sun pouring through their windows; I hear roosters crowing; I see her eat her Philippine breakfast.

To call someone a “bro” is a hyper-heterosexual form of endearment; to pronounce it bra is to increase that sentiment by two- or three-fold. That “bra” is short for brassiere has nothing do to with this venture.

Our jones for Oprah started because she asked the right questions as a reporter, extracted the most important tears from the most important people and brought to light the issues others passed on. She did Good. And out of that came Oprah the Mogul, Oprah the Car-Gifter, Oprah the Career-Launcher.

The modern definition of biological death is the cessation of electrical activity in your brain. The most common causes of biological death in the United States are heart attack, cancer, stroke and emphysema (read: you’ll probably die one of these ways). Wonder how each of these afflictions actually feel when you’re dying from them.

That reminds me: sex. I like to pretend that I’m a secret freak-on-a-leash in bed, but I don’t think I actually am. I’m too into being tender and loving and kissing a lot. But if you want to be rough and crazy, I guess I can go that way, too. And don’t worry about not having a big penis. Those actually scare me.

Inside are three policemen shooting simultaneously at different targets. In the way they shoot – with aggression and, despite the dark, with insane precision – the policemen give the impression that they are pro-death in situations requiring action beyond the verbal.

I think some writers could mention the hipster’s obsession with clothes or music, but every American subculture has an obsession with defining themselves with clothes and music. That is just being American.

I read all the financial press. I’ve read all sorts of investing books, from Andrew Tobias to Suze Orman. I still end up overwhelmed and confused. Like many women, I fear an old age of ramen and a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere.

The critic and sexual theorist Camille Paglia has declared her disdain for pop sensation Lady Gaga. In London’s Sunday Times, Paglia – an avowed fan of Madonna – declares Gaga “the first major star of the digital age.” The phrase implies disconnection and falsehood: the critic’s own preference for what she might term analog pop is clear.

I got invited to this fabulous party last night in the Hollywood Hills, but instead of going I ultimately decided that seeing Lady Gaga on the VMAs was much more pressing. How could I miss her white carpet arrival…

In the park, dead ends and doublings-back amplify the aimlessness of the dialogue, which ranges over immediate phenomena (“Do you like how backs of benches catch a glow from streetlamps?”), roommate stories, and wooly summaries of Aristotle’s and Wittgenstein’s views of language.

Maybe he felt creepy about that, but either way, I think he felt like he had to be very gentle and responsible with me, which led to a lot of anticipation. Then one night, we finally went for it. Or at least tried to. I really don’t think his dick got very far before I started screaming in pain. Have you ever lost your virginity? Shit fucking hurts balls!

Vera intended her work as a way to incorporate something beautiful and thoughtfully-rendered into everyday life, whether spread out on a breakfast table or covering a bed or knotted around a neck. Formally trained at New York City’s Cooper Union, she made “wearable art” at a time when that was either a novelty or a luxury…

At just fifteen-years-old, this LA based fashion blogger, known only by the moniker “The Stylish Wanderer,” has already made impressive inroads in the fashion and entertainment industries. She has modeled in various major label campaigns, was invited last year to attend NYC Fashion Week, and can currently be seen in a TV commercial airing nationwide.

These are hard times for lovers. Longtime companions may not be endangered, but they’re in danger. Everywhere people are saying that passion doesn’t last. When you fall in love, it might be forever, but at some point, you’ll probably look at your husband, your wife, your lover, and feel frustrated, annoyed, bored, or simply not be turned on.

It should have occurred to me that someone who moves to a continent – a continent – where she doesn’t know anybody or speak the language might have a fierce, even irrational, independent streak.

Old is new again. Again. The recent reappropriation of the past in American youth culture (see: steampunk fashion, the booming knitting industry, the comeback of the mix tape) might be indicative of a popular desire to return to simpler times. Or to work our hands instead of our cash. Or in the case of writer/illustrator Lane Smith’s new children’s book, It’s a Book, to remind us that reading books – as opposed to screens – is a worthy pursuit.

Somehow over the last five years, fantasy football has become ubiquitous. Girlfriends, old ladies, every man who knows how to turn a computer – they all play it. Hell, even my cat has a team – and it’s loaded. Why? Because it’s so darn “fun.”

Once we got in our room I popped the cheap champagne I bought to celebrate the occasion. I hadn’t seen Sara in two months, which, under the circumstances, seemed an intolerably long time. We had been e-mailing each other every day, and, in a way, that made every day seem like another day I didn’t get to see her.

It’s endearing how the detached cynicism with which hipsters confront their surroundings is tempered by a sentimentality for “old” things, namely, these circa 80’s photos—and how those compromised photos resembled the inception of photography in the 1840’s.

The political children who’ve sought the spotlight are few in number; most tend to seem shy and retiring once the camera lights fade. Certainly, Jenna Bush, who’s published a children’s book and appears on TV periodically, has refused to allow the world the access to her emotions that McCain, three years younger, freely grants.

My preferred world is one of motion, activity, strength, flexibility. I can easily touch my palms to the floor, sometimes my wrists. (Which amazes all the doctors I’ve seen this year because, if one part of you is broken, they seem to think, the rest must be as well.)

The five serial killers cataloged in this article are from Ukraine, the United States, and Japan. When they committed their crimes, they were 19, 48, 32 and 60 years old. Their murders were characterized by, among other practices, bludgeoning with hammers, mutilation, “skin suits,” rape, cannibalization, torture, video taping and necrophilia.

The summer festival season inevitably gives way to darker sounds worthy of intimate indoor concerts and snowed-in listening sessions. Here are four worthy up-and-coming acts with recent or impending releases.

Nowadays, thanks to spoilers, we’d all know the identity of the culprit before she even pulled the trigger. We’d have spent months reading endless discussion of the cliffhanger and its resolution on internet chat boards, maybe even throwing our own two cents into the ring.

In New York, as David Cross likes to say, “You are constantly faced with this very urgent decision that you have to make about every 20 minutes. You have to decide immediately, ‘Oh my god, do I look at the most beautiful woman in the world or the craziest guy in the world?'” There are more than eight million other people bookended by those two superlatives, and while some, like your boss, might contribute to your stress, many of them reduce it.

The novel is not without plot, and indeed it is a great deal more concrete than the plots found in some of the author’s previous work. Stylistically Richard Yates bears more resemblance to Lin’s 2009 novella Shoplifting From American Apparel than it does to his previous novel, Eeeee Eee Eeee (2007).

Uses similes and metaphors often. Delivers ‘punch lines’ well. Seems well versed in pop culture. Seems to have a productive/effective work ethic and a Promethazine-Codeine syrup addiction. Signature ‘noises’ include [lighter ‘flick’/inhale], “young moolah baby,” and [high-pitched laughter].

This Friday night I watched Tom Six’s The Human Centipede (First Sequence) on my laptop as the sun was setting in the background. It was almost the best movie I’ve seen this year, falling second only to Tom Cruise’s Knight and Day.

But then I get pissed the hell off, like foaming at the mouth mad, because I can’t find this fucking bus stop a-n-y-w-h-e-r-e, even though my iPhone tells me it’s right here. I’m crossing the street, up and down, back and forth, trying to pin down the bus I need. Look down at my iPhone, back up at the street, down at my iPhone, back up at the street.

The face does not exist, for it has no essence, only factors of the face exist, only forces at play exist. And, as such, one will notice that in any Chuck Close portrait the face is almost always blank or violent, because it has no one singular telos, no singular emotion to convey, but instead, millions, most of which probably clash quite violently.

Shit talking this week experienced somewhat of a lull. While we did start off the week strong with the Glenn Beck’s rally—an event that later gained the enigmatic spiritual warrior the title “The White Malcom X” from one reporter at The Daily Beast—shit talking slacked during the middle of the week…

I’d gotten his number from a man who used to book him for speaking engagements. He told me: “Harvey’s real cool, just give him a call.” So I did. The phone rang a few times, then Harvey picked up. I heard that same voice I came to know from his days on Letterman. It was scratchy and distinct, loaded with character.

I once achieved intercourse after, midway through a make-out session, seizing a mandolin and jiving about the room, whilst hooting like an ape. When the girl’s expression transitioned from confusion to anger, I allowed a stream of saliva to drip from my contorted face, and, winking, shouted: “Now you’ve made out with the evil mandolin monkey man!”

There are probably thousands of “power users” on Reddit––users who have submitted, voted and commented tens of thousands of times and have been active on the site for years. These users are actually people, which some critics of Reddit might not believe, given the nastiness of some of the comments they post.

Both my friends commented on how “shitty” and unimpressive Madison Square Garden is on the inside. The seats are teal and magenta. Everything else is concrete. I read somewhere that the concession stands routinely perform poorly on health inspections.

Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990), conductor, composer, author and pianist, was one of the very few American musical talents to achieve and maintain an international reputation.  Most often associated with the New York Philharmonic, where he served as music director from 1957 to 1969, Bernstein enjoyed a close professional relationship with both the Vienna Philharmonic and the Israel Philharmonic.

The aesthetics of suburban alienation in popular/alt music have long since been employed by The Smiths, Radiohead, Green Day, to just name a few—for that is what every kid wants: to feel alone (from their parents) yet somehow part of something larger (a culture). Short of a better generic phrase, “Rock & Roll” is essentially a romantic movement.

  1. 1
  2. ...
  3. 1609
  4. 1610
  5. 1611
  6. 1612
  7. 1613
  8. 1614
  9. 1615
  10. 1616
  11. 1617
  12. 1618