Sublime

If we had to pick a moment in time in which we entered the final stages of degenerate fiat “capitalism,” we would likely pick March 2020, when it seemed very much as if the everything bubble had popped.

John Updike’s The Centaur,

Glenn McDonald,

enigmatic

Pesotsky had an immense house with columns and lions, off which the stucco was peeling, and with a footman in swallowtails at the entrance.

‘You’re our longest-serving contributor,’ said Carleton, flinching at the bang. ‘Our most admired. Indeed I should say our most popular.’ I’m beginning to speak like him, he thought: Thomas Hart is catching, that’s the trouble. ‘I’ve often heard it said that it’s a consolation – that’s the general feeling, as I said to the board – to wake on Thursd

Mass culture will not fall, it will simply get less mass,”