Bringing the outdoors in.
Is this leisure - this browsing, randomly linking my way through these small patches of virtual real-estate - or do I somehow imagine that I am performing some more dynamic function? The content of the Web aspires to absolute variety. One might find anything there. It is like rummaging in the forefront of the collective global mind. Somewhere, surely, there is a site that contains … everything we have lost?
Say it with neon.
Not sent from my iPhone pixelated heart Valentine’s Day card.
I’m amused by how intent people are on making human beings immortal or at least extremely long-lived. One of the consolations of dying is that [you think], ‘Well, that won’t have to be my problem’. Seriously, the world is changing so quickly that if you had any more than 80 years of change I don’t see how you could stand it psychologically.
A snob is anybody who takes a small part of you and uses it to come to a complete vision of who you are. That is snobbery. And the dominant form of snobbery that exists today is job snobbery — you encounter it within minutes at a party when you get asked that famous, iconic question of the 21st century: ‘What do you do?’
#classy.
“I read so many short, easy things. I read the label on the shampoo bottle, I read e-mail, I read the headings of all the top Google news stories, I read magazines. And this gives me lots of practice for all my short, easy thoughts: Turn left at the light. Bring a sweater. Add salt. There’s nothing wrong with thoughts like these; the world would collapse without them. But I also have longer, harder thoughts, ones that I circle slowly, over months, years, my whole life probably. I return again and again to the same irresolvable questions as I attempt to share my life with another person, to be a good daughter, to be an artist. These slow thoughts often catch me unawares, while turning left or adding salt. I am startled, almost insulted to be reminded of my own depths: This is unnecessary! I’m doing fine! I remembered to bring a sweater! Books hold a place inside of me for the long thoughts. And they also taught me how to think like that in the first place. Their slow cadence, the commitment and silence they require, the way they endure over generations—these are not easy qualities to locate in the world, or in myself. And the best part is, unlike most roads to the unknown, books aren’t conjured by prayer or devotion: They’re real, they’re cheap, and they make a sound when you drop them.”
- Miranda July on books.
