Author: T

Best Albums List of 2017

Well, it’s about that time (or quite a bit overdue) for a round-up of some of the best albums of 2017. Despite the predictions that all the heinous events of 2016 (deaths of many iconic people, and the death of hope as Trump was elected) might cause an upswelling of creativity, it actually didn’t seem that way. If anything 2017 was a quieter year for stunning music releases, not a bad year by any stretch, but not as stunning as the best of 2016. The good stuff as far as I’m concerned is getting a playlist of music that...

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Pastoralia

This morning is the morning I empty our Human Refuse bags and the trash bags and the bag from the bottom of the sleek metal hole where Janet puts her used feminine items. For this I get an extra sixty a month. Plus it’s always nice to get out of the cave. I knock on the door of her Separate Area. “Who is it?” she asks, playing dumb. She knows very well who it is. I stick in my arm and wave around a trash bag. “Go for it,” she says. She’s in there washing her armpits with a...

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Eileen

My mother never packed lunches for me to take to school when I was growing up. I’d sit and stare down at my knees while the other children ate their sandwiches, my stomach empty and rumbling. As soon as I’d get home in the afternoon, I filled my belly with bread and butter, all that I could find to eat in my mother’s messy kitchen. When I was a child, Dunlop dinners around the kitchen table were hardly nourishing. Mealtimes were brief and uncomfortable. My parents only ever fought in front of Joanie and me, as though they’d needed...

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The House of the Spirits

My wife didn’t miss the refinements she had been accustomed to, and the day the shipment of furniture and household goods I had ordered to surprise her arrived at the door, all she said was how “lovely” it was. I myself had to figure out where everything should go; she didn’t seem to care at all. The new house was decked out with a luxury unrivaled even in those magnificent days before the place was passed down to my father, who left it a ruin. Huge colonial pieces made of blond oak and walnut arrived, along with heavy wool...

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The Antidote to the Malady of Materialism

It is this mass of unclean world that we have superimposed on the clean world that we cannot bear. When I looked back, out of the clearness of the open evening, at this Littlehampton dark and amorphous like a bad eruption on the edge of the land, I was so sick I felt I could not come back: all these little amorphous houses like an eruption, a disease on the clean earth; and all of them full of such diseased spirit, every landlady harping on her money, her furniture, every visitor harping on his latitude of escape from money...

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