financial nihilism and slower rate hikes
Hi Kyla - Longtime listener, first time caller. As a GenXer - I feel as though this description of GenZ and 'corecore' could have been written about us. GenX was steeped in post-modern 'meta' and irony and cultural commentary. With the exception of a few futurehistorical specificities, just change the Z to an X and backdate the article to 1998 and it still works :D. Some interesting parallels between GenZ and GenX for sure. Thanks for your writing, really enjoy your work!
Very well done. It’s been tried forever but wonder what the recipe is for widespread anti-nihilism..there’s got to be something. A uniting cause that isn’t tragic…
Excellent piece and congratulations on the NY mag piece!
I always find myself in the same predicament after reading Kyla. Sort of a dizzy sense of wonder as I struggle to identify my favorite excerpt. The only safe commentary is read the entire masterpiece at least twice. It is beautifully written and addresses a staggering square footage of our economic landscape. But, I must choose something so here it is: It turns out, if you want to save a species, you don’t spend your time staring at the bird you want to save. You look at the things it relies on to live instead. You ask if there is enough to eat and drink. You ask if there is a safe place to sleep. Is there enough here to survive? Kyla, we need more thinkers like yourself somehow positioned in a court of authority that mediates any and all excursions from centrist humanity! Thanks for your talents!
Screw corecore. Whatever that is.
But that was a damn good poem. Worth reading the whole thing. Maybe every day.
by Julia Vinograd
No blame. Anyone who wrote Howl and Kaddish earned the right to make any possible mistake for the rest of his life. I just wish I hadn't made this mistake with him. It was during the Vietnam war and he was giving a great protest reading in Washington Square Park and nobody wanted to leave.
So Ginsberg got the idea, "I'm going to shout "the war is over" as loud as I can," he said "and all of you run over the city in different directions yelling the war is over, shout it in offices, shops, everywhere and when enough people believe the war is over why, not even the politicians will be able to keep it going."
I thought it was a great idea at the time a truly poetic idea.
So when Ginsberg yelled I ran down the street and leaned in the doorway of the sort of respectable down on its luck cafeteria where librarians and minor clerks have lunch and I yelled "the war is over."
And a little old lady looked up from her cottage cheese and fruit salad.
She was so ordinary she would have been invisible except for the terrible light filling her face as she whispered
"My son. My son is coming home."
I got myself out of there and was sick in some bushes.
That was the first time I believed there was a war.
Thank you for continuing to feature poetry