I hate my iPod. A lot. Let me tell you why. I received my iPod as a high school graduation gift. This was when not many people had iPods, and the only ones who did were wannabe-hipster scads who ran around, iPods clipped to their belts, proclaiming, “Oh Marcus, you must listen to this wonderful band called Guster! Read more...

On a road trip to San Francisco with some friends, Arthur Magazine’s founder Jay Babcock began writing down the names of the best performing musicians who were the least well-known. Read more...

Dear Mom, Was reading a T.C. Boyle short in The New Yorker last Thursday at the library and started crying. It hit hard, harder than Joyce’s “Araby” even. Read more...

With just a week and a half remaining on the calendar until Oscar night, it’s time to start thinking about whom you’re going to pick in your local pool. Read more...

The trains converge in the same spot every day Anonymous; that might be nice How would you know? I haven’t any money to board The train from Stockholm to London, but I’ve heard of Such fancy things. Read more...

I went to the dog today and he told Me I was sick; not with words but in The way his breath approached me, a Slight element of blood like an impression Of one of Monet’s best works. Read more...

The images are unforgettable. Ruined homes barely poking out of murky water. The living wading among the dead. Thousands fleeing over flooded freeway overpasses, hoping to be rescued. Read more...