Yeah, so the site is busted! Not for long, I hope.
Revenge by Elisa Chavez
there’s a Muslim kid in Kansas who has already written the schematic
for the robot that will steal your job in manufacturing,
and that robot? Will also be gay, so get used to it
This poem is good.
Stay In Your Lane.
“Intellectual” has two common definitions—the first is the kind of person you hear getting interviewed on NPR about a Big Idea, the second, used by people like Marx, is any kind of economic actor who gets paid to do brainstuff rather than hard labor, like a plumbing engineer. The point of “Nerd” is to keep these two kinds of intellectuals separate, because together they are fucking dangerous. When Ta-Nehisi Coates is writing Black Panther comics and demanding reparations after documenting decades of housing discrimination?—capitalism does not want that shit.
What does it look like to stand in the same spot for 40 years?
Camilo José Vergara has spent more than forty years photographing and rephotographing the same forgotten corners of American cities. From crumbling housing blocks in the Bronx and an abandoned Detroit mansion, to dwindling row houses in Camden and the many lives of a Los Angeles baptist church. In all cases Vergara eschews the monumental to focus on a city’s discreet pockets. Returning year after year to the same positions, he regenerates images even as the structures in front of his lens decompose and are reborn in a cycle of photographic renewal. Architecture given shape by time and neglect takes on an organic quality—a reminder that edifices are as temporary as the lives they shelter. Vergara’s urban generation loss depicts fluid cities as a mirror of the present aging into obsolescence. Ultimately his images force a reckoning with death, confronting our inability to grasp the undercurrents relegating urban space and time.
My Son, The Prince Of Fashion.
In time I came to understand the nature of my job as the father of this sartorial wild child: I didn’t need to fathom Abe or his stylistic impulses; I needed only to let him go where they took him and, for as long as he needed me, to follow along behind.