As my family settles into the seats of the “Magical Express” coach that conveys us back to the Orlando airport, the long-range RF transmitters and the copper antennae that wind around them cease to communicate with Disney’s receivers. They become souvenirs from Dataland, the big data equivalent of a die-cast monorail toy.
Family is super cool. Going home to one girl every night is super cool. Just going home and getting on the floor and playing with your child is super cool. Not wearing a red leather jacket, and just looking like a dad and shit, is like super cool. Having someone that I can call Mom again. That shit is super cool.
The snow in the wolf diorama at the American Museum of Natural History is “anything but white.” It’s a wide range of colors of crushed marble, here arranged by Stephen C. Quinn, to not only create artificial shadows but “conceal” and “consolidate” the real ones, created by five spotlights that shine opposite the “moonlight” in the scene.
In fact, he prefers to let his songs come to him; his usual songwriting process involves letting an instrumental demo play in his apartment and then freestyling sounds and melodies and, eventually, words—whatever he feels in the moment. So when he tells me about how “Repeat Pleasure” hints at the ideas of German philosopher Georg Hegel, he laughs a little bit, as if he just realized the connection himself.
And here again, in the minutes it had taken to pay this bill, the value of bitcoin was too elusive to nail down the exact cost of my meal. Somewhere in Boston, there’s a waiter who was stiffed out of twenty-seven cents of his tip by the dawning of a new economy.
It’s not clear exactly what was said, but Dax can remember that damn thing like it was yesterday. While in New Orleans during Mardi Gras, Big Boi was approached by Britney Spears who said she was a fan. Before she could even get out another word, Big Boi leaned in and whispered something in her ear, inaudible to both of their entourages. “He said some freak player shit and she wasn’t ready for it,” Dax says. Britney’s jaw dropped, while Justin Timberlake was off somewhere writing “Cry Me a River.”
President Barack Obama looks at the Edward Hopper paintings now displayed in the Oval Office, February 7, 2014. The paintings are Cobb’s Barns, South Truro, top, and Burly Cobb’s House, South Truro. (Official White House Photo by Chuck Kennedy)