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writing is not how music is supposed to be
a house where the trees are all bent one way
on one side the tower
on the other a string of railroad cars.
the bridge is violet
the county line infinity
the grand canal vanishes
a certain kind of quality of being is possible
When I went to Germany I visited Beethoven’s house and bought
a postcard reproduction of part of a score. I bought it because I
believed I could see individual notes scratched out. I thought
Beethoven had made a mistake, that he had begun something and
changed his mind. . . . this gave me great hope.
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Draconian individual punishment distracts from systemic change and reinforces the cruelest and most racist system of incarceration on the planet.
Our well-being depends on a better understanding of how the logic of labor has twisted our relationship with pleasure.
“I was my father’s son. My father was Nai Nai’s least favorite.” A Taiwanese American man, driven from home by a secret, reevaluates his childhood memories of his grandmother.