[tumblr edition]

theconnoisseursus:

Why shouldn’t our most ephemeral belongings reflect our essence, if they can be made by people who genuinely give a shit?

Natural wooden iPhone cases by Carved.
Elkhart, In.

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Urgent Care

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It’s cold in here. …What? Nothing—I wasn’t really laughing. It was just…saying I’m cold seems a little unimportant. 

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Timing is Everything

The same day that I post my little snark-attack on the finicky nature of my alma mater, said alma mater publishes two of my articles in its alumni magazine.

Coals of fire, much?

Anyway, they’re on pages 50 (profile of Jamaal Spencer Barnes, a ridiculous overachiever and a beautiful human being) and 54 (a firsthand account of participating in our college’s new and much-maligned online seminar series).

St. John’s College v. Thoroughly Modern Marketing

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It’s a truth I’m only just beginning to acknowledge that the one place where people who otherwise pride themselves on considerate, rational dialogue may get their panties unduly in a wad is with regard to the college they attended.

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theconnoisseursus:

Bywater
New Orleans, La.

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Ten Things I Think About Girls

My pal Tim Willard does this kind of post every so often. A subconscious-fueled list of ten things he thinks about some topic, general or specific. Lately, as I’ve been trying to think of intelligent things to say about things, I’ve found myself thinking in list form. With his permission, then, I’m borrowing the meme. Which he says he borrowed from Sports Illustrated columnist Peter King. So.

Ten Things I Think About Girls

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Here in Dust and Dirt // a fiction

I was wondering the other day where some of my old fiction had got up to. A little snooping brought me back to my old, old blog…where, fortunately, some of this escritorial mess is still extant. 

It’s not genius. But neither is it as bad as I remember. 

This one here was inspired by the dismissal of one of my favorite professors, who should have got tenure, and didn’t. Not that he ever told me how he felt about it. Which is probably for the best—if he had, I couldn’t have written about it.

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His wife reminded him, it wasn’t as if they had nowhere to go. But he knew where that was; he nodded, and took his head out of his hands as if he were comforted, but when she was gone he rested his arms on his knees again, squeezing one fist inside the other.

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Pictures I Didn’t Take

Remember that time we got into town much too late to go to any of the museums, as we’d planned?

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“I have come to see the nonsense of trying to describe fine scenery.”

—   Nathaniel Hawthorne