We Are The Mob, And We Are Not Entertained

Niccolò Machiavelli wrote Il Principe in the 1530s. In the centuries since, The Prince has become notorious as a guide to ruthlessness in politics, and Machiavelli’s name has become a byword for a person who will use any means necessary to win and keep power. Machiavellian: Adopting unscrupulous methods; duplicitous,…

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Tholtans of Mann

There’s a particular place in the Isle of Man; an endless avenue of fuchsia trees, which in most seasons is like any other country lane, but in summer becomes a tunnel of purple and pink flowers. The scent of them saturates the air. At the end of this lane is…

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Lament For Poseidon

the sea flicks idle hands up to the rocks the empty sea the tomb of the sea; clear to the shallows some weed, some fish some boats. a salt spray touches skin, touches lips its taste like fish. the wet rock, the dry the crabs in pools the islands mark…

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When The Blank Page Has To Stay Blank

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. — Mary Schmich. It wasn’t a Tuesday. It was a Thursday. And it was a bit later than 4 p.m. But yes, I…

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Two Decades Later

Two decades ago I was a teenager. Of course I knew everything, including what the world would look like when I would be an adult. Gender inequality still existed for me then, but by the time I grew up it would all be sorted out. Of course it would — the world…

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