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I recently began working in a building that has a TV screen in all of its elevators. I don't know how common this is in office buildings, but it seems pretty extravagant to me. It shows a loop of news items, and weather updates and sports scores and that sort of thing -- it's a cross between the aimless facts projected at theaters before the movie starts and the info on the digital billboards mounted on the roofs of New York City cabs. Sometimes, when I get in the elevator when its crowded, I almost feel embarrassed to look at it, which is especially foolish, because it seems as though the screens were installed to alleviate embarrassment and give strangers in elevators something to do other than stand there fidgeting uncomfortably. It's as though I want to make a show of not giving in to the ubiquity of media distractions, prove to everyone I'm drawing on inner resources to quell myself for the elevator ride and that I don't need any crutches. So I stare at the floor instead.

But when I am alone in the elevator, I relish the screen the most and the random pieces of information I glean from it. I'm not sure where the news in the elevator comes from, who edits its content. It seems almost haphazard. There is a surprising preponderance of NHL scores -- maybe unbeknown to me there are a bunch of Canadians working somewhere in the building (or perhaps the building has contracted with a Canadian news service.) Today I learned that Six Flags amusement parks are going to initiate a concierge service that allow patrons to pay extra to cut in line (an idea that economists are sure to love, I'm sure, since it allows for further price discrimination among customers and theoretically more efficiency -- it's a bit like road pricing). Alone in the elevator with these small bits of information coming in, I feel strangely isolated from the world, more so than I would without the screen. It's a desert-island feeling, where you feel thankful for scraps of news in an environment that you suddenly realize, away from your computer for the first time in hours, is blessedly bereft of informational overload.

To be a migrant worker in America is to relearn the basic skills of living. Imagine doing that in your 60s and 70s, when you thought you'd be retired.

Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century

Publisher: W. W. Norton
Author: Jessica Bruder
Publication date: 2017-09

There's been much hand-wringing over the state of the American economy in recent years. After the 2008 financial crisis upended middle-class families, we now live with regular media reports of recovery and growth -- as well as rising inequality and decreased social mobility. We ponder what kind of future we're creating for our children, while generally failing to consider who has already fallen between the gaps.

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Very few of their peers surpass Eurythmics in terms of artistic vision, musicianship, songwriting, and creative audacity. This is the history of the seminal new wave group

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominating committee's yearly announcement of the latest batch of potential inductees always generates the same reaction: a combination of sputtering outrage by fans of those deserving artists who've been shunned, and jubilation by fans of those who made the cut. The annual debate over the list of nominees is as inevitable as the announcement itself.

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Barry Lyndon suggests that all violence—wars, duels, boxing, and the like—is nothing more than subterfuge for masculine insecurities and romantic adolescent notions, which in many ways come down to one and the same thing.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) crystalizes a rather nocturnal view of heterosexual, white masculinity that pervades much of Stanley Kubrick's films: after slithering from the primordial slime, we jockey for position in ceaseless turf wars over land, money, and women. Those wielding the largest bone/weapon claim the spoils. Despite our self-delusions about transcending our simian stirrings through our advanced technology and knowledge, we remain mired in our ancestral origins of brute force and domination—brilliantly condensed by Kubrick in one of the most famous cuts in cinematic history: a twirling bone ascends into the air only to cut to a graphic match of a space station. Ancient and modern technology collapse into a common denominator of possession, violence, and war.

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This book offers a poignant and jarring reminder not just of the resilience of the human spirit, but also of its ability to seek solace in the materiality of one's present.

Marcelino Truong launched his autobiographical account of growing up in Saigon during the Vietnam War with the acclaimed graphic novel Such a Lovely Little War: Saigon 1961-63, originally published in French in 2012 and in English translation in 2016. That book concluded with his family's permanent relocation to London, England, as the chaos and bloodshed back home intensified.

Now Truong continues the tale with Saigon Calling: London 1963-75 (originally published in French in 2015), which follows the experiences of his family after they seek refuge in Europe. It offers a poignant illustration of what life was like for a family of refugees from the war, and from the perspective of young children (granted, Truong's family were a privileged and upper class set of refugees, well-connected with South Vietnamese and European elites). While relatives and friends struggle to survive amid the bombs and street warfare of Vietnam, the displaced narrator and his siblings find their attention consumed by the latest fashion and music trends in London. The book offers a poignant and jarring reminder not just of the resilience of the human spirit, but also of its ability to seek solace in the materiality of one's present.

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Canadian soul singer Elise LeGrow shines on her impressive interpretation of Fontella Bass' classic track "Rescue Me".

Canadian soul singer Elise LeGrow pays tribute to the classic Chicago label Chess Records on her new album Playing Chess, which was produced by Steve Greenberg, Mike Mangini, and the legendary Betty Wright. Unlike many covers records, LeGrow and her team of musicians aimed to make new artistic statements with these songs as they stripped down the arrangements to feature leaner and modern interpretations. The clean and unfussy sound allows LeGrow's superb voice to have more room to roam. Meanwhile, these classic tunes take on new life when shown through LeGrow's lens.

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