A glitch in the matrix

As I do most nights (and as she described in this lovely article), I was reading to my wife in bed. This time, it was a very strange story about a community of people who believe a ’90s children’s movie starring Sinbad has disappeared, possibly due to a crossover with other dimensions, a glitch in the computer simulation we’re all living in, or simply a conspiracy (read it yourself, it’s amazing). Then the doorbell rang.

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Holiday conversation

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Party talk

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Disappointing primitives

I was recently reading Hugh Honour’s Neo-Classicism (part of Penguin’s excellent Style and Civilization series from the ’60s and ’70s) and not enjoying it very much. The book is fine, but the topic was less than scintillating. I guess it depends on your tolerance for sentimental art about civic duty. Then I was jolted awake by a short passage in the epilogue:

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A Man’s Job–a one-act play

Sabine: The kitchen sink is leaking, can you call someone to fix it?

Me: I’d like to try to fix it myself.

Sabine: How would you do it?

Me: I’d twist the thingie.

Sabine: Won’t you need tools?

Me: I can use our [makes ambiguous gestures with hands].

Sabine: I think you better call someone.

Me: I think I better call someone.

Against chopsticks

chopsticksMy friends were recently sharing instructions on how to eat sushi on Facebook. Well, I’m here to tell you that not only were they eating sushi wrong, if they follow those instructions they are STILL eating it wrong.

Here’s the deal: You don’t need to use chopsticks. Ever. Not for Japanese food, not for Chinese food, and certainly not for Thai food.

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Shrinked, part 3: Civilization and its discontent

Pt3I guess the Washington Square Institute thought they were making up for my previous therapist when they assigned me a new one who looked like Jay Leno. I wasn’t a fan of the TV show but found it encouraging that my new shrink seemed more amused than concerned by my problems.

Things went well enough the first few months. Sure, he had a few annoying quirks, such as only taking notes when I happened to mention a dream, or always pointing out with a titter the double meaning of the expression “it’s hard.” (To this day I still say “it’s difficult” because of him.) But such are the hazards of psychotherapy.

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