Second Thoughts Blog

The essay I was working on was inspired by N+1’s really excellent polemic editorial titled, “Large Language Muddle.”  Part cultural commentary and part call to arms, the editorial rails against the creep of generative AI in society and posits an alternative approach straight out of the Luddites’ playbook. It was empowering. I was so ready to write my own screed against generative AI; I’d argue that it was the natural progression of the focus-group forged and hyper-managed style of communication so many of us find ourselves confined to upon entering the professional sphere. I’d deride the hellscape that is LinkedIn and the strange pseudo-human, algorithm-serving language it requires us to use.

In a touching video essay, the two not only discussed the profound impact they have had on each other's lives but also the struggles that had accompanied the years of keeping their relationship private. This was a step forward for them–after many years, they were shedding the burden of secrecy while still maintaining a level of privacy, highlighting their complex relationship with parasociality. 

I am a strong advocate for the analog. I think music sounds better when on vinyl, pictures taken with my second-hand film camera are more charming, and my Omni-84 is a beast of an analog synth. What links these things together? The tactile, physicality of them all. Studying writing through my undergrad and my Master's left me with stacks of physical literature lining my shelves, but like many, I seldom open them. How tasteless! I can hear that one professor I had for Gothic Lit (who always pronounced French words heinously wrong) yelp—What a waste! 

The rise of the streaming service was rapid and cutthroat. Netflix paved the way, inviting viewers to view films on demand and in innumerable amounts, from the comfort of their own homes. It was no longer necessary to buy tickets, organize plans, and make the drive to your local cinema. Just sit on the couch, sift through options, pick one, and turn it off if you don’t enjoy. That last bit was the killer.

Published in November 2024, American Bulk: Essays on Excess includes essays on American consumerism. Hinging on different connotations of excess and consumerism, and digging into her personal and familial dynamics, habits, and experiences, Emily Mester covers an impressive amount of ground in American Bulk. 

The year is 2014. I’m 16 and my dream is to be a foreign correspondent for Vice Media. I romanticize the aesthetics of Occupy Wall Street and the Vietnam War protest movement, and my bedroom walls are plastered with photos snipped from a Time Magazine special on the Arab Spring. I procrastinate my math homework, instead pouring over features detailing strife in faraway places recounted by journalists who work at liberal legacy publications.

He’s scruffy-haired, 5’7”, dresses in the clothes my grandfather used to wear, and seems to forever breathe through a harmonica. His name is Jesse Welles, a 32-year-old folk-singer, songwriter, and poet whose backwater presentation is rooted in his working-class, Ozark, Arkansas upbringing. He has been hailed by many as the Bob Dylan of the new generation. I believe he’s the reincarnation.