While I claim that the reason I haven’t emerged as the foremost British emigré writer of our times because I simply don’t have time between watching movies and drinking beer: Franz Kafka wrote stories on the side, at night, when he was tired. Enjoy this profile not of his literature, but his day job: “I am more interested in his insurance affairs.”

A dragon guarded the literary estate of Borges and made anybody who wanted a part of it suffer. I think I love her.

In shocking news that nobody could have predicted, it turns out that the women of early analytic philosophy have been overlooked.

On the de-sexification of our media space by large corporations: Everyone is beautiful and no one is horny.

Remember that abandoned mansion town in China that people kept sharing like “hur dur this is what communism gets you.” Well it is farm land now.

Apropos of nothing, here is an interview with Peter Alexander, a trans man living in Australia in 1937.