“merely archaeological, the images of strewn masks take on a symbolic meaning for America’s ambivalence towards public health.” (The Loop)
There is a small Italian restaurant two blocks from my house in Inner N.E. Portland. It’s been there for decades.
I’ve socialized a couple times in the backyard. Masks on, masks off, nibble, nibble, sip, sip, masks on, masks off, sip, sip, nibble, nibble. (Nonfiction)
Oh, food. It is such a deft [and daft] distraction. It absolutely changes the narrative.
We still can’t believe there’s nothing there at all but ugly. We feel woozy in his rank backwind.
The terrified revolutionaries binge on Netflix.
If I come across someone I make sure I am the first to ask about the screams.
So if Henry is neither in the woods, nor alone, what exactly, is he doing?
It takes our breath away, virus or not. And nobody knows how to make the virus go away. And nobody knows when it’s leaving, or what it will look like tomorrow.
“As long as I come see the mountains, I’m okay,” was the idea their poetry expressed.
We’ll sleep on it before we make our final decision.
We panicked all evening, clearing our throats, secretly gargling with hydrogen peroxide.
And I was looking for barbarians. I still am. I always am. I’ve seen so many. Haven’t you?
ACM is pleased as punch that we get to publish Leanne Grabel’s work every month.
So here I am writing about it in America.
It’s the last corner of paradise, here, evaporating like spit on a hot sidewalk.
Oak Woods Cemetery is located in the predominantly African-American neighborhood of Grand Crossing, and the Confederate Monument towers over the gravesite of the Chicagoan suffragist and anti-lynching activist Ida Bell Wells-Barnett, a former slave.
“I was in the convent at the time. I knew that I was lesbian. I was twenty-six. I was in a new program that allowed us more latitude than your ordinary canonical novice has. I had heard about, probably read an article in the newspaper, about this uprising, and it’s as if it drew me – not the riot, but the act of rebelling,” Ginny Apuzzo tells Tamika Thompson.
“The singer experienced considerable challenges during [the 1980s] : On the positive side, she recaptured the wide public’s attention with her hit 1985 album “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?” But she also lost her father, C.L. Franklin, in 1984 after a 1979 gunshot put him in a five-year coma,” music critic Aaron Cohen writes.
In December 1989 in Romania, the crowds spilling into the streets chanted: ‘We will die and we will be free!’
Bike riders get a chance to see the sites of the 1919 Chicago riots.
Overlooked buildings on Chicago’s South Side, photographed by Lee Bey from his book “Southern Exposure”
Graphic essay mashup of an early 1950s pulp comic book and text from legendary Argentinian art collective Tucumán Arde
Imprisoned behind glass in New York City’s Jewish Museum: a sinister grin in graphite. Too big-teeth and hairy brows crowned with a jester’s coxcomb. “I wanted something visually exciting,” Jerry Robinson said of his concept sketch of The Joker. “I wanted something that would make an indelible impression, would be bizarre, would be memorable.”
On 17 July 1936, the day the Spanish Civil War broke out, W. H. Auden arrived, by milk cart, to Hólar. He spent the morning inspecting the wooden carvings in the local church. Their violence shocked him.
When he returned to his hotel for lunch, he found the staff busily preparing for the arrival of a small party of Nazis.
Addressing one of the US’s true emergencies, five former mayors told Chicago how they had reduced the murder rate in their cities.
It’s 1957 and I remember it this way…
Whenever I heard “Michael Cohen” it was if it were a name not my own.
If you take down Confederate statues, who gets on the pedestal? Steve Harvey reports on Madre Luz.