Mark Dery
Why The Nightingale Sings: On Bobby Darin’s “Beautiful Things”
His studied cool, like a high-roller blowing smoke rings with overdone unconcern, is a dead giveaway. So, too, is the plinkety-plink of marimba keys, so high they make a sharp, brittle noise, like bones, as he sings those words.
The Politics Of Style: Reading T Magazine
To this day, my leftish friends of a certain age define fashion as any investment in appearance whatsoever, and view it with deep suspicion as clear evidence of counterrevolutionary tendencies.
Getting The Fear: Manson, Me, And The Summer Of Hate
“Getting the Fear,” Manson called it—embracing the dry-mouthed jitters of sheer terror, riding that moment when your heart is thudding so hard it feels like something trapped inside your ribcage, trying to get out.
The Uncut Hair Of Graves: Surrealist Gardening
In suburbia, the only good lawn is a dead lawn, a lawn where nothing moves, where every unloved bug and unsightly “weed” (in smirking quotes because only culture makes a weed) has been wiped out with a little help from our friends at Monsanto.
Blood Sports In A Starched Collar: Surrealist Etiquette
The Surrealist calls not for the abolition of manners, but for an etiquette that does away with snobbery and class-anxious conformity and substitutes, in its place, a social philosophy that celebrates the insurgent intellect and the idiosyncratic self.
Skin in the Game: An American Gothic, in Black and White
Sometimes, it seems as if American history is measured out in dead black bodies.
Castle Of The Living Dead: Time, Embalmed
What makes seemingly throwaway images get stuck in the hippocampus and stay there, for a lifetime?
Mythologies: Josh Ozersky
‘Playboy’ had the added benefit of explicitly and more or less effortlessly linking high culture — wine, food, jazz — with the very epitome of masculinity, virility.
But I Digress: On The Point Of Not Getting To The Point
A digressive essay might partake of play, exploration, philosophical investigation, the Freudian free-association game, Surrealist automatic writing, the Situationist dérive, the Web drift, or all of the above.
Thank God I’m An Atheist: Buñuel’s Last Laugh
Surrealism, for Buñuel, is as much a moral philosophy as it is an art movement.
The Savage Eye: Aesthetics After 9/11
We’d seen this movie before; suddenly, we were living it, even as we were seeing it through the aestheticizing lens of media memories.
The Last Roman: What Gore Vidal Taught Us
In “State of the Union, 2004,” Vidal wrote, “Happily for the busy lunatics who rule over us, we are permanently the United States of Amnesia. We learn nothing because we remember nothing.”