IT’S A DAY of rest, and you may be in the mood for a quiet corner and a comfy chair. We’ve hand-picked the week’s best reads for you to savour this Sunday.
Soon my entire life revolved around tweeting. I stopped reading, rarely listened to music or watched TV. When I was out with friends, I would duck into the bathroom with my iPhone. I tweeted while driving, between sets of tennis, even at the movies.
A silent guard observes my typewritten pass bearing the Soviet hammer and sickle and date-stamped April 28, 1952. Another frisks Khrzhanovsky, without betraying any deference or even recognition. After a security wand roughly passes over my back, I finally step through the door and onto the set.
To get into the OKS Nightclub, you needed to go around the back of Osijek’s Studenski Centar, through a side door and then down a wide set of rubberized black stairs. Midway down, the stairs doubled back on themselves and there, on the landing, was a large, black iron cage, shaped like a birdcage but big enough for one, maybe two, girls.
The park had the look of an arctic encampment. The nightly General Assembly, usually a sprawling affair, had no more than forty shivering participants shouting into the freezing rain.
In the atrium on deck 3, passengers queue for Mickey Mouse’s autograph. I overhear an adult passenger ask a crew member, “Exactly how many Mickey Mouse symbols are there on board?” He looks taken aback. There are about 20 within our immediate vicinity
Screen savers were invented in the early ’80s to do the material work of protracting monitor lifespan. As LCD screens soon made cathode rays and phosphor burn obsolete concerns, the jobless screen saver itself became an ornamental relic
… AND A CLASSIC READ FROM THE ARCHIVES…
“We’re just a little old cowtown,” said Bill Finn, a grime-covered firefighter who propped himself wearily up against a brick wall as the rain turned the dust to mud on his face. “You can’t get no more Middle America than Oklahoma City. You don’t have terrorism in Middle America.”