“‘That woman Estelle,’” the note reads, “‘is partly the reason why George Sharp and I are separated today.’” Didion begins her essay with this note because it awakes a gossipy desire for confession in the reader and he’s hooked. But that desire is disappointed, or at least diverted. The note is a quotation of a…
What must the first flower feel in March when it gives a final push and breaks to the surface of the earth? All around her bowed head, the grass is withered and the trees are bare. The sky is white. The winds howl with frost. Amid the sere brown and gray, trudge pale wintered faces…
The other day, an Instagram ad caught my eye. I clicked for “More Information” and was taken to the following testimonial. “My name is Heinrich Faust. I spent fifty years in academia searching for truth only to realize I had wasted my life. I was decidedly single, and for all my work, I could hardly…
I’m a Gen Z-er who doesn’t know the definition of prurience. We’ve been on social media since before puberty, scoured the internet to give us answers that our parents wouldn’t. We’re naturally nosy and do not know common decency. Any one of us might be a rags-to-riches Tik Tok celebrity, your average joe turned writer,…