More like How to Be a $1.99 eBook, amirite?
(If you missed the runaway-bestseller train, it’s circling back around and only costs $1.99. You should click over if only to save yourself from my metaphors.)
“If there is joy, or progress, or enlightenment, or love to be had, it must be had now: between your birth and your death; as fast and fiercely as you can. All we have it the breath in our bodies and a finite share of seconds, and each one must be spent with the same joyous reverence as a gold coin.
This is because, at 19, I’d read a sentence that had re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing- not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision- a cocktail, a remix- of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of a bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a stardust constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating, micro-universes- we have never been before, and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely fact of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.”— Caitlin Moran
I read this passage from an article on the bus and choked up. If there is any need for reassurance of your life- this might possibly be of help to you.
|—||moranthology, Caitlin Moran (via megacharl)|
the single greatest slang term for vagina that I have ever read (even if it’s spelt wrong)
|—||Grampy | Raised By Wolves (via bellamoreish)|
Caitlin Moran’s article on Benefits Street in today’s Times is probably the most eloquent and brilliantly-written I’ve read on the show and its subsequet controversy.
I won’t copy and paste the full article, because if ever a newspaper or media outlet deserved ‘hits’ or subscriptions it is The Times on the basis of this piece, but I’ll post my favourite extract - probably the most pertinent few paragraphs you’ll read on the subject of a television show:
To show how absurd the weight and analysis lumped on Benefits Street is, imagine for a moment a putative Middle Class Street.
If, on our new Middle Class Street, we’d seen three out of 99 lovely Victorian terraces engaged in crime — the same ratio as Benefits Street — but the middle-class crimes of tax evasion and expenses fiddling instead, no one would be lining up to condemn the entire middle class. No one would be presuming to be an expert on the middle-class “lifestyle”. No one would be making statements on the moral degeneracy of the 21st-century middle classes.
Even if they were, middle-class voices have so much access to the media that such statements would be easily countered by dozens of columns and radio sermons on the subject from middle-class broadcasters and writers. The middle classes would not be talked about as if they were something that must … end. Something to be cured. Something that has gone on for far too long and must be remedied. Something that is only ever a problem.
When the irony is, of course, that the working-class benefit fraud costs £1.2 billion a year, while tax evasion — inevitably a middle-class crime — costs £14 billion annually.
£14 billion! That it is often repeated does not dim its outrage. The fact is simple: richer people steal more. You cannot trust them. Hide your espresso machine when they come round, fellow peasant, lest they sneak them into their Cath Kidston tote and make their escape in a Prius.