Sublime

She’d been just another anonymous buckle bunny, one of the many women who made themselves available to rodeo cowboys after the events were over and the partying began.

“not yet touched by the mild boredom of order,”

they weren’t the only ones warping my sense of reality—it was also the many flavors of online Nazi, the school shooters and the girls who longed to love them, the edgelords and their aggressive brooding, cranky old Ayn Rand—all these various manifestations of a worldview that insisted what mattered most was power, and that getting attention gave

seventy-seven thousand “altgenres”

propriety.

The image of a seventy-nine-year-old ex–background player named Della Kress hanging on to the side of a clawfoot bathtub, legs dangling from the now exposed eighth floor of the Montecito Apartments, would be all over YouTube by the morning.

“Robbery. They’ve had ’em for a few days. Two guys were cuffed together in the men’s John in Jordan Marsh, in the Omni store. They claimed they were cuffed up by some crazy cop who took their money.

When whiteness and wealth are posed as the norm, a kind of force field of aesthetics and ideology keeps out anyone…

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