A guide to radical self love, a graphic novel about loneliness, and an investigative report into the underworld—and upper east side—of America’s opioid addiction crisis.
I need to paint 20 frames for an upcoming gallery show and the thought of me, Jackie “Oh, Did I Make That Mess?” Mantey, painting anything in our small apartment’s even smaller dining room nearly gives Justin a rash. So here I am, standing in my temporary Indiana studio (his mom’s garage), wearing ratty clothes, my hair high in a messy bun. Before I start painting, I take a minute to look around the subdivision.
I know this isn’t a big deal, like, at all, and I’m used to seeing my journalism bylines, but having my creative writing and embroidery published is a rad new development that feels awesome and I’m totally humbled by it, as evidenced by these photos of celebrities crying.
All the contestants had to spend a grueling 30 seconds in said swimsuit walking around, basically, a circle on stage. It was all very ridiculous. However, there was one way a gal could make this experience much more fun, much less like, well, getting judged in your bathing suit by a group of strangers with your teachers in the audience: Contestants got to pick their own music.
A few years ago at a backyard barbecue, a friend’s birthday party, one of the stoners, mid-bite of his veggie patty, told me that déjà vu is something we experience when we are in the exact place we should be.
In this week’s podcast episode we discuss the royal weddings, world conflicts we know little to nothing about, Lenny, Kurt, and Kathleen. Our pretentious opinions about celeb culture are called into question by our obvious love of our approved-celeb-culture obsessions! Cheers!