Do you feel like who you’re writing for has changed? Have your fans changed?
Meath: Well, I know they are people who tip well — that’s what we hear from bartenders from our show. It’s such a joy to know. The first people we got were music lovers, and then we got the gay kids, which was really great. If you get the gay kids you’re doing something. And then we got teenagers and frat boys then NPR.
Wait, frat boys?
Meath: Yeah, we hit some weird mix when the frat boys show up to our shows!
What is it they like?
Meath: It’s the song “Coffee.” I don’t know what it did, but the frat boys were like, YES, this is for me. Bless them.
Our culture encourages us to translate every disappointment into a very personal moral failure. So I want you to deconstruct your guiding assumptions about what you “should” be. I want you to question how much having kids would be saving you from this feeling right now. I know it’s beyond hard to give up your house, but I want you to imagine savoring living in a smaller space. I want you to imagine your surprise over how emancipated you feel, walking out of your office holding a box of your things. I want you to picture a 15-pounds-overweight, gray-haired woman who is happy with her life. Is she wearing muumuus and big beads? Is she lifting weights and wearing pleather pants simply because both of these things are unseemly, and unseemly seems magnificent, suddenly? Is she hosting afternoon teas on Sunday with a “Let’s celebrate our midlife decline” theme?
just really felt this sports writing…in my heart i’m sports fan 4 lyfe, harkening back to my deep lonely nerd days in 8th grade keeping an astros scrapbook and going to astros games and listening to their games on the radio (TALK ABOUT AN OLD PERSON) (clearly obsessed with age these days). from the ny times:
With the stars canceling each other out, this series comes down to teammates and coaching, and that gives a distinct advantage to the Rockets, a squad reworked into something beautiful by Coach Mike D’Antoni. Free of the headaches of New York and Los Angeles, D’Antoni got back to what he does best: crafting thrilling offenses out of versatile players and allowing for almost unfathomable risk to set his team up for maximum reward.
tho not this one. i mean — how does one squeeze all the old blog STUFF onto instagram? like songs? and the discursive longwinded emo rants?!?!?! i mean!
anyway. found this on an old dead blog.
love,
an old person
Good morning. I was out in Brooklyn the other morning, cooking chicken on a bunch of charcoal grills that my colleagues at The Sweethome are testing for a coming guide to the best ones available. The sun was pounding down, the smoke was copious and not really drifting up so much as filling the garden in which we were working, and all of our eyes were stinging and we were drinking cold iced tea and it was really glorious: the first taste of summer 2017.
in love with this whole story, plus maira kalman is great.
“I hope that people take away a sense of the tenderness of creating your own life, and that it’s inspiring—that it gives you a sense of optimism that, yes, you can put your closet in order, and maybe there’s hope for putting your life in order, some of the time.”
Kuo in Chinatown. Photograph by Jason Nocito. Courtesy the photographer.
from an interview with artist/funnyman/new yorker/optimist andrew kuo:
Last one. Dinner with three New Yorkers dead or alive.
Okay, I’m going to have to say Patrick Ewing again. Not only because for me he was the absolute best, but also because his exit press conference was so emotional, where he said sorry for not winning a championship. I’d love to talk to him about that. DJ Premier, because I think he’s such a huge guy that doesn’t get enough attention. I’m forgetting about so many artists. Guston! Roz Chast! Man, really, how do you choose? There are so many greats.
dj premier! and gotta find that exit press conference with ewing. (also ewing is jamaican?! also he co-wrote a painting how-to book for children?! wikipedia FAX)
oh my god, what a horrible notion to take the GRE at age 42, after not doing (correct) math in 25 years. holy lord every bit is IMPOSSIBLE. like brain feels like weeping and running away. the homework before my first class took me 8 hours and i didn’t even finish. gotta find teenage nerd me who just studied and memorized like crazy. worried she may be gone (or DEAD).
(via 
