Quick memoranda from the executive editor.
I said I was not going to complain and I stand by that. I’m just going to say “thank you” and do the work that I can from where I can. I recommend all of us so privileged continue to support the many who are far more deeply and dangerously mired in the wake of this humanitarian tidal wave.
We’re only ten days in to Shit Getting Real, but I think I can safely wonder if we’ve already reached total saturation on COVID-19 thinkpieces? Here’s a serious one. Here’s a funny one. Here’s a literary one a good friend just sent me.
(May I remind you that we’re going to be in this for the long haul, so if a tight five thousand word analysis on the ongoing end of days is your jam, I recommend pacing your intake.)
Marc Maron elegantly summed up what it’s like to be a recovering hypochondriac/person with an anxiety disorder in these weird-ass times.
The Read is still podcasting, God bless them and keep them healthy.
Who hasn’t watched Tiger King? Maybe I’ll write about it.
Sometimes it’s very soothing to just put some Purity Ring on loop and lay on the floor and close my eyes and take a mental journey through the astral plane, a la First Reformed but sans Drano finale.
Via The Morning News, a wonderful exploration of a major woo staple: Tibetan singing bowls, which aren’t so Tibetan after all. (As a shitty Buddhist and lazy yogi myself, I rubbed my hands together with glee for this one.)
Via Thighs Wide Shut, let’s go peep some 1970s murals from Forgotten New York.
Via Lifehacker, great news—your meat thermometer will work in a pinch, and hey, guess what’s not sold out on Amazon?
