The opening of the McDonald’s on the Spanish Steps in Rome was the catalyst that drove Carlo Petrini to found the Slow Food movement in 1986. The 14000-square-foot, 800-seat McDonald’s, one of the largest in the world, has also been … Read More
Today, the forecast in Avernus: heavy fog; flash flood warnings; rising tides from the River Cocytus and Acheron. “New at 11, we’ll see that despite our individual attempts at self-control, lamenting and sorrow will continue spilling into the future,” the … Read More
I felt a pleasant warmth as I skied down the side of a Pennsylvania mountain, gliding to a stop at the bottom of the slope as my dad pulled up behind me. Together we waited in a short line and then boarded a slow-moving chairlift. As it carried us up the side of the mountain, we chatted about our past run and took in the pristine snow-covered sights.
As the recent New York Magazine article, “Why Do Women hate Anne Hathaway (But Love Jennifer Lawrence)?” thoughtfully explores, Anne Hathaway bugs people. Unlike the magnetic Jennifer Lawrence, Hathaway has always had trouble garnering public affection. For the most part, I try to stay away from the popular sport of celebrity hating that this article examines.
My summer vacation felt like a body. Mine felt like a river. It’s generally useful to build up a number of unreasonably applicable metaphors that seem to withdraw profundity from just about everything. It’s the only way you’ll produce what … Read More
I grew up in Newton, Massachusetts, a quiet settlement eight miles from Copley Square. The Marathon’s route follows Commonwealth Avenue through Newton into Boston. My house is a block from the Marathon’s 20-mile marker, in the middle of Heartbreak Hill, the most notorious of a series of four steep ascents that runners must endure as they pass through the city.
The films we watch, recorded images in motion, are brought to us by the camera’s privileged eye. The camera is privileged to “be there” when the actual moving bodies do their thing.
This July I was standing in a dusty schoolyard in Nansana, Uganda listening to Icona Pop’s “I Don’t Care” at a party for the NGO where I worked for two months. My stomach was full of a mysterious barbecued meat and the Ugandan equivalent of PBR my boss had purchased for the occasion. I asked my friends who had been cooking what I had just eaten.
Exodus chapter 34, verse 26: “Thou shalt not boil a kid in his mother’s milk.” Some 5,000 (or 2,000, depending on who you think wrote the Torah) years ago, God told the Jewish people not to mix milk and meat. … Read More
