The Last Word On Nothing

“Leaf hoppers, previously unnoticeable, now erupt in little clouds as one moves through the grass. There are definitely more butterflies. Neighborhood cats delight in stalking through our miniature veldt, like tortoiseshell lions.” Through neglect, Emma makes herself a little paradise.

Cameron worries about the missing California clouds. In the skies above southern California, summer cloud cover has decreased by 25 to 50 percent since the 1970s. Less cloud cover means lower moisture—and less moisture ramps up fire risk.

Exercise is supposed to be Cassie’s reprieve from the writing process: the frustration, the self-doubt, the second-guessing, the feelings of worthlessness. Yet somehow her kettlebell instructor has taken exercise and imbued it with the very worst parts of the writing process: the frustration, the self-doubt, the second-guessing, the feelings of worthlessness.

What do you do with yourself when you break up with Facebook? Helen posts status updates to herself, and now to us at LWON.

Erik says it’s hard to argue that a strong, hairy, large-browed protohuman wouldn’t take one look at a modern human and burst out laughing. The problem is our “neoteny”: to some extent, we are animals that never truly reach adulthood but rather become a sort of giant breeding baby. All of humanity as one big overgrown baby. You know what? In light of the past two years, it’s as good an explanation as any.