novice Buddhist, expert neurotic. writer. aspiring adult.
sophcw at gmail dot com
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Mad Men is a show that defies easy categorization, because it qualifies for so many: suspense, melodrama, farce, comedy, tragedy. At its core it is existential horror, like Waiting for Godot or reality. There’s nothing as easy as a supernatural component or thematic metaphor to tie it up with a bow. Like real life, Mad Men is littered with false doors and loose threads. There’s no hero’s quest for vengeance, no big crime to be unraveled, no zombies to kill. There are no manipulative plot twists or their cousin, deus ex machina, no easy ways out, and maybe no way out at all. This might frustrate a viewer looking for traditional clues and obvious arcs, but it’s satisfying on a much deeper level. The show’s big mysteries might be subtler, but they are richer, more universal questions. Who are we? What are we doing here? Why do we fall in love or out of it? Why do we grow old and die?
Everything we feared about communism - that we would lose our houses and savings and be forced to labor eternally for meager wages with no voice in the system - has come true under capitalism.
Somewhere in some corporate shared drive is the complicated legal document that allowed Denny’s agency actual agency to do whatever the hell they want.
My roommate is friends with the person who runs this.
Yeah I’m not sure what to say about this.
Aside from those few guys reveling in their spray-tanned fantasy “brogrammer” masculinity, very few people in programming identify with the term “brogrammer”. The brogrammer is always someone else— he is THOSE Facebook guys who yell too loudly at parties and wave bottles in the air, he is not the nice, shy guy who gets paid 30% more because of his race, gender and appeal to the boy-genius fetishes of VCs. The loud and tacky “brogrammer” is a false flag— if you are not a brogrammer, the logic goes, you must be an outcast genius who has suffered long and would never oppress a fly. The industry is full not of the former but the latter— programmers who are smart and may present as harmlessly “nerdy” but whose sense of themselves as being “the underdog” means that it is very hard to see the ways in which they participate in unconsciously but potentially harmful ways in an industry that has coded them as kings. In reality, programmers in Silicon Valley can be fully and invisibly privileged without ever touching a Grey Goose bottle-service setup or a tube of hair gel.
Meanwhile, the mainstream media’s rapid adoption and celebration of the imaginary “brogrammer”— imagining him as the updated version of a Wall Street man, rich, callous, and central to a new American story of wealth— means that this fantasy character is being rapidly heroized and glorified across popular culture. This means that shows like Silicon Valley that claim to “critique” the “brogrammer” only end up re-centering the self-centered young male as American hero, failing to see or critique the deep, coded subtleties by which power in the Valley really works.
“There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.”
― Anaïs Nin
Monument is special to this album and to me. Its about space in time and defining oneself. Svein and Torbjorn and I were in a zone when we made it, it was like a dream. Like a meditation…
Listen to a snippet of a new track from Robyn and Röyksopp’s forthcoming collaborative mini-album Do It Again.
Bush paints because Bush can do anything. Every American dream, Bush got—an Ivy League education, running his own sports team, even the presidency. When each dream ended in failure, he grinned and moved on. Bush’s paintings are one more way of turning away from the past
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