Real Computers Scared Me; If

Rebecca Was An Academic Star. Her New Book Was On The Phenomenon Of Word Casings, A Term She'd Invented For Words That No Longer Had Meaning Outside Quotation Marks. English Was Full Of These Empty Words--"friend" And "real" And "story" And "change"--words That Had Been Shucked Of Their Meanings And Reduced To Husks. Some, Like "identity" And "search" And "cloud," Had Clearly Been Drained Of Life By Their Web Usage. With Others, The Reasons Were More Complex; How Had "american" Become An Ironic Term? How Had "democracy" Come To Be Used In An Arch, Mocking Way?

Rich Children Are Always Blond, Jocelyn Goes. It Has To Do With Vitamins.

I Wonder What Proust Would Have Made Of Our Present-day Locus Of Collective Fantasy, The Internet. I’m Guessing He Would Have Seized On Its Wistful Aspect, Pointing Out Gently And With Wry Humor That Much Of What Beguiles Us Is The Act Of Reaching For What Isn’t There.

The Answers Were Maddeningly Absent—it Was Like Trying To Remember A Song That You Knew Made You Feel A Certain Way, Without A Title, Artist, Or Even A Few Bars To Bring It Back.

They Resumed Walking. Alex Felt An Ache In His Eyes And Throat. "i Don't Know What Happened To Me," He Said, Shaking His Head. "i Honestly Don't." Bennie Glanced At Him, A Middle-aged Man With Chaotic Silver Hair And Thoughtful Eyes. "you Grew Up, Alex," He Said, "just Like The Rest Of Us.