Monthly Archives: August 2013

The internet is a black hole of information. As I spend my days writing, applying for jobs and flicking between tabs like a lab rat on coke (a vice even I’m uncomfortable with), my eyes scan approximately 500,000 words per day*. Of these words (and sounds and images), I try to keep track of the clicks that made me think — or at least the ones that made me laugh.

The trailer for David O Russell’s latest film, American Hustle. The parts are good (Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence and Amy Adams, the seventies costumes, the rotating camera shots that O Russell loves so much), but the sum of these parts feels more than a little derivative. I’m getting major Boogie Nights vibes though, which is never a bad thing.

One of my best friends is an Aussie, so in an effort not to be ignorant, I’ve been trying to keep up with Australian current affairs. This is a really interesting takedown of new Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s disturbing proposed immigration reform. You can find more context here.

The Hour‘s Romola Garai is against the mainstreaming of lads’ mags (and their sale in supermarkets like Tesco). And quite frankly, so am I.

Wesley Morris on the eerie intersection between Trayvon Martin and Sundance favourite Fruitvale Station. Beautifully written, hugely relevant. (via one of my favourite writers on film and race, Ashely Clark)

Rebecca Scherm’s excellent exploration of her own internalised sexism, something that it took an internship at the Don Draper of magazines, Esquire, to unlearn.

This week I revisited The Social Network. Then I revisited this NY Magazine longread. Both are (still) fascinating.

Enjoying AlunaGeorge’s new album, Body Music. I don’t feel that I can use the words “urban”, “hazy”, “summer” or “nineties vibes” to describe it without sounding like a twat. So, ignore my description and listen to some of it for free here.

Beneath its chilly exterior, Jane Campion’s Top of the Lake is full of fire. It is by far the best show on TV right now. Catch up on BBC iPlayer here.

And finally, More Bitches for the BanknoteAutostraddle‘s list of historically significant lady Brits whose faces deserve to denote monetary value.

P.S. I read this last week, but it’s so good that I wanted to share it here. I think it’s one of the best essays I’ve read all year. An aside: I was so captivated by Emily Nussbaum’s writing that I spent an entire afternoon trawling through the New Yorker archives and reading everything that she’s ever written for them. She’s brilliant. Check her out.

*a number I am convinced of, even though I have plucked it from obscurity.