Beating Writer’s Block, Forty Years of Dungeons and Dragons, and Teeth You Can’t Feel

By Hazlitt

“I draped my pants over my shoulder and put my shoes on my hands and when I tried to grab my shirt I saw the woman who had been clucking her tongue had it in her hand and she and a man from inside of the train helped me get on. I woke up on the platform at Coney Island. I still could not feel my teeth.”

The very best photos of space and space-related phenomena.

How do you kick writer’s block?

Forty years of Dungeons and Dragons and its pervasive effect on writers.


“More than once she’d been brought to the hospital against her will, Kleiman tells me, which involved the need for five or six medical personnel, her legs dangling out an ambulance’s back door. He admits she was admitted to a psychiatric facility at least once as well.” The sad tale of the world’s tallest woman.

What happens when the Google Art Project camera sees its own reflection.

“Not so long ago bringing the smell of print books to e-reading was nothing more than a spoof. Now, you’ll be surprised to discover a growing list of home and beauty products, which focus on one clear task: to recreate the book smell in its finest glory.”

Maddening, perhaps, but also very accurate.

The unfinished films of Stanley Kubrick.

The National Post’s Mark Medley reports from Iceland, “the most bookish country on the planet.”

Fuck you.”


|| Grace Coolidge and Helen Keller
Helen Keller’s Self-Perception
All faces are lies—we adjust them to match the selves we want to present—but the faces of the blind show the difference between what we perceive and what is there.


Celebrating War in Sarajevo
Sarajevo was a funny, ambivalent kind of place during the week surrounding the 100th anniversary of the assassination that got the ball rolling on the First World War. It was, potentially, the biggest tourism draw the city had seen since the 1984 Winter Olympics: an event of global interest, the kick-off to five years’ worth of centenaries commemorating the losses and victories, the deaths and outrages that ended two centuries-old empires and drew the borders we still mostly recognize across the map of Europe. The biggest thing planned had some real symbolic value: a concert by the Vienna Philharmonic, with a setlist including the Bosnian national anthem, Haydn’s “Emperor Quartet,” written for a Hungarian nobleman, which contains a quote from a previous work he wrote called “Gott erhalte Franz den kaiser,” or “God save Emperor Franz,” as well as Beethoven’s European Anthem as arranged by one of Vienna’s most famous conductors, Herbert von Karajan. Vienna was, of course, the seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where Franz Joseph would have take up his throne a few years later, had his car turned a different direction that day, or if Princip had missed.