(I really know #France). And it always strikes me the way everyone (mostly speaking from a position of privilege) firmly believes racism is not a problem in the hexagon—as we affectionately call our Douce France (sweet France).

I hate the trainchinese app. I hate its bugs, downtime, missing words, and, most of all, the proprietors’ greed that makes you sink money in it because adding new lists and new words to learn is ridiculously expensive ***even after years of use***. I’m looking 4 alternatives.

It’s been six years since the neighbor took on learning to play the trombone. The only audible progress is the new dog in the next house howling companionably.

Smart.

#elonmusk

Grandes dames des Arts et des Lettres!

You forgot: You’re going to have liver problems. And when you show them your blood tests, they are puzzled (particularly the doctors).

Because in our democracies there is a growing number of useful idiots who believe Putin’s propaganda and oppose helping Ukraine (just like across the pond).

Adieu, Flaco.

Most of the universe is missing. The atoms and light you see—from people to planets, stars and galaxies—make up just 5% of the universe. The rest is a two-part mystery. Physicists are now gravitating towards a theory involving a hidden universe econ.st/49IIYy1 👇

A great article: “ Submissions: The Harsh Reality and How to Improve Your Odds” womenwhosubmitlit.org/2021/06/16/sub…

An organic emoji! “This smiling face is made from living human skin cells anchored to a robotic ‘skeleton’ with ligament-like structures.” (Nature Briefing)

I remember. when I lived in Edinburgh, that little old lady who committed suicide over Cameron’s law taxing an unoccupied room in a house. And the gutting of health services. And the rise of rickets and poverty. And BREXIT! Deliriously happy about the trouncing of the #Tories

A new virus threatens humankind: the virus of novel revision—its main effect is the transformation of the revising writer into a cloud of ink dots (keyboards notwithstanding)

Three-legged Nando claiming the golden mountain as his own

I've written genre and I've written literary. Genre is like rock an' roll: precise, the instruments louder than the voice. Literary is like jazz, long solos, improvisations, liberating when inspired, très bad when bad, so fucking exciting whenever.