I’ve developed an interest in spaces where a shit ton of creativity went down – then poof! – they’re gone. Maybe they moved, maybe the money ran dry or the place was overrun by cossacks, or hipsters or something. In … Read on.
Of the “rags to riches” narratives comprised in the American Dream, one variation seems to be recurring with the regularity of sprocket holes on celluloid. It’s the tale of the independent filmmaker, rebuffed by Hollywood, who manages to make a … Read on.
Zealous geeks have their own version of the Rapture and Armageddon, neither of which is terribly apocalyptic unless, you know, one needs to reboot HAL or something. If this were an SAT-style analogy, it would go something like “Armageddon is … Read on.