Plato and the Poets

Elaine Scarry in The Boston Review:

When Plato was an infant, bees alighted on his lips and, nestling there, set about making honey. His parents had placed him, sleeping, on the summit of a mountain while they paid tribute to the gods, and when they turned their attention back to him, they found the infant’s mouth full of golden sweetness. Cicero provides our first surviving record of the legend, which is repeated with variations over centuries, always as a portent of the sweet style the infant would ultimately possess.

Plato’s honeyed voice was celebrated in classical antiquity by thinkers as different as Aristotle, Cicero, and Diogenes Laertius. Praise for Plato’s literary genius regularly recurs until at least the early nineteenth century. As the Romantic poet Percy Shelley writes, “Plato was essentially a poet—the truth and splendour of his imagery, and the melody of his language, are the most intense that it is possible to conceive.”

More here.

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A Sweet, Sexy, Happy Love Story Between Two Men. Revolutionary

Jim Downs in The New York Times:

“Heated Rivalry” has become a breakout hit. The hockey drama — adapted from an erotic romance novel for the Canadian streaming service Crave — just ended its first season on HBO Max and has left gay men crying at watch parties that feel more like 19th-century religious revivals. If you want to understand why this show has become our community’s equivalent of a cultural earthquake, the answer is that watching a gay couple be mildly boring and in love is still radical.

During the season, two rival Major League Hockey stars — Shane Hollander of the fictional Montreal Metros and Ilya Rozanov of the Boston Raiders — fall for each other, moving from adversaries to soul mates. There are plenty of steamy locker room encounters and charged rendezvous in luxury penthouses. But in the season finale, which landed last week, the two men are secluded in an intimate cottage — grilling burgers, lying by firelight, taking daytime swims, scrolling through their phones on the sofa. Culture has not kept up with queer people, despite major political strides, legal victories (including marriage equality) and growing social acceptance. Stories and art explicitly about queer life are being made, but they rarely find a wide gay audience. They’re not typically embraced the way “Heated Rivalry” has been.

More here.

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Sunday Poem

Some Criticism, Some Theory, Some Questions

He said,
“Too much plot, too little dancing.”

Plot would have us believe the world
is understandable. Not “The King
died then the Queen,” but
“The king died and the Queen
died of grief.”
…………………… We want cause
to break onto the future like
a great wave.
……………………  So, how is it you
woke up where you woke up this morning?
What was the cause and the cause
of that cause? Is your story line believable?
And why isn’t there more dancing?

by Nils Peterson
from My Dinner With Nils
Kinchafoonee Press, Athens Georgia, 

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Friday, January 2, 2026

She’s an A.I. Sex Robot, and She’s Becoming Sentient

Lydia Kiesling in the New York Times:

In an unremarkable New York apartment, sometime in the not-too-distant future, a man tells his robot to come to bed. She is a “Stella,” an intelligent machine who looks and sounds like a woman. We soon learn that she is a “Cuddle Bunny,” a euphemistic term for the sex-robot setting she’s currently running. She is also set to “autodidactic” mode, which gives her a searching intellect and a nascent independence. Her name is Annie, and we will follow her on the journey to elevated consciousness in “Annie Bot,” Sierra Greer’s slyly profound debut novel.

Annie’s human is Doug, and she is programmed to read his moods and cater to his every need. “Annoyance, a 2 out of 10. She must be careful,” the close-third narration tells us. Her actions are calibrated to his pleasure. She knows, for instance, that during sex, “he does not like her too loud.”

More here.  And more about “The challenges of writing from the perspective of a sex robot” by Sierra Greer here.

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Exercise won’t help you lose much fat but changing this will…

Hatty Willmoth at BBC Science Focus:

If you want to lose weight, exercise doesn’t really matter.

That doesn’t sound right, does it? After all, for decades we’ve been told that the way to burn off excess calories is simple: move more. Have a slice of cake? No problem, just make up for it at the gym.

But a major new study challenges that long-standing belief. Collating data on more than 4,200 people across 34 different countries, researchers found that people who exercise more don’t burn more calories than those who sit around all day.

In fact, the research found that, matched pound-for-pound, a hunter-gatherer from Tanzania’s Hadza community burns about the same number of calories each day as a typical US office worker – even though the Hadza are more active in a single day than most Americans are in an entire week.

More here.

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The Moral Imagination of Zohran Mamdani

Corey Robin at his own website:

In a way I’ve never experienced in my life, I feel in synch with a political turn, felt by millions of voters, that’s now being reflected in the voice of one of the most dynamic leaders we’ve seen in a long time.

Which leads me now to a bit of a personal/political memoir, which may resonate with other leftists of my age, with those of us who are part of lost generation of progressives, the Gen X leftists, who’ve mostly felt out of step for virtually every political development of our adult lives.

In the last few years, I’ve noticed a change in my political writing, prompted by the surge of enshittification, the rise of AI, and the concomitant erosion of academic and cultural standards. I found myself increasingly focusing my political writing on the importance of excellence for the left, on pushing for the highest standards of teaching and writing and work, not as a punishment for the poor or as an excuse for excluding subjugated groups, but as an aspiration of a genuinely democratic society, as something everybody wants for themselves and the people around them.

More here.

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Pepys Diary

Deborah Friedell at the LRB:

Pepys was a meticulous – some might say compulsive – record-keeper, and his talent for storing and retrieving vast amounts of information would be useful to him throughout his career. Loveman argues that the diary became his ‘catch-all’ for anything he couldn’t safely or conveniently note in his official or household accounts. Into its pages went social debts (who had given him dinner, who still owed him one), gossip, the music he heard and the plays he saw, and the most intimate aspects of his life, from bodily functions (including what has been called ‘one of the best documented attacks of flatulence in history’) to sex.

He had married Elizabeth de St Michel when he was 22 years old; she was 14, young even by the standard of the time. We don’t know how they met. Her father was French, and she had grown up in Paris and Devon. She was a Protestant, though when she was angry at her husband she would sometimes threaten to convert to Catholicism. He thought that he was in love with her, at least at the beginning of their marriage. When he hears an especially stirring piece of music, he writes that it did ‘wrap up my soul so that it made me really sick, just as I have formerly been when in love with my wife’.

more here.

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Science in 2050: the future breakthroughs that will shape our world — and beyond

David Adam in Nature:

The Roman sage Marcus Aurelius said we should never let the future disturb us. But then he never had a conversation with the futurologist Nick Bostrom about the state of the world in 2050. “There’s a good likelihood that by 2050, all scientific research will be done by superintelligent AI rather than human researchers,” Bostrom said in an e-mail. “Some humans might do science as a hobby, but they wouldn’t be making any useful contributions.” Time to rethink your career options, Nature readers!

To adapt a cliché about computer models, predictions of the future are usually wrong, but some are interesting. And Nature has a long history of seeking stimulation in forecasts, projections and auguries about how research might unfold in the coming decades. Most notably, the journal marked the end of the twentieth century and the onset of the twenty-first with supplements dedicated to scientific soothsaying, and a bold prediction, from then-editor Philip Campbell, that life based on something other than DNA would be discovered by 2100. (It was a statement he called foolish then, but stands by today.)

More here.

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The Entangled Brain

Luiz Pessoa at Aeon Magazine:

When we consider the highways traversing the brain and how signals establish behaviourally relevant relationships across the central nervous system, we come to an important insight. In a highly interconnected system, to understand function, we need to shift away from thinking in terms of individual brain regions. The functional unit is not to be found at the level of the brain area, as commonly proposed. Instead, we need to consider neuronal ensembles distributed across multiple brain regions, much like the murmuration of starlings forms a single pattern from the collective behaviour of individual birds.

There are many instances of distributed neuronal ensembles. Groups of neurons extending over cortical (say, prefrontal cortex and hippocampus) and subcortical (say, amygdala) regions form circuits that are important for learning what is threatening and what is safe. Such multiregion circuits are ubiquitous; fMRI studies in humans have shown that the brain is organised in terms of large-scale networks that stretch across the cortex as well as subcortical territories. For example, the so-called ‘salience network’ (suggested to be engaged when significant events are encountered) spans brain regions in the frontal and parietal lobes, among others, and can also be viewed as a neuronal ensemble.

more here.

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Friday Poem

New Year’s Eve Always Terrifies Me

At exactly twelve o’clock midnight
1973-74, Los Angeles
it began to rain on the
palm leaves outside my window
the horns and firecrackers
went off
and it thundered.
I’d gone to bed at 9 p.m.
turned out the lights
pulled up the covers –
their gaiety, their happiness
their screams, their paper hats,
their automobiles, their women,
their amateur drunks…

New Year’s Eve always terrifies me

life knows nothing of years.
now the horns have stopped and
the firecrackers and the thunder…
it’s all over in five minutes…
all I hear is the rain
on the palm leaves,
and I think,
I will never understand men,
but I have lived
it through.
.

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Thursday, January 1, 2026

Carrie Courogen remembers the cross-genre brilliance of Rob Reiner’s filmmaking

Carrie Courogen in the Los Angeles Review of Books:

“I don’t have a clear-cut film identity,” Rob Reiner told London’s Sunday Telegraph in 1989.

The late actor, writer, and director was on a promotional tour for When Harry Met Sally…, the fifth feature nestled in what would become an eight-year run of all-timers, including This Is Spinal Tap (1984), The Sure Thing (1985), Stand by Me (1986), The Princess Bride (1987), Misery (1990), and A Few Good Men (1992). With a quick, passing glance at his list of credits, it’s easy to take him at his word. Reiner’s films spanned the genre spectrum, from mockumentary to rom-com to thriller to courtroom drama, and his work as a filmmaker was often described as “versatile,” that of a journeyman: reliable, occasionally great, but never executed with the distinct stylistic flair of a true auteur.

Yet in spite of flash, what Reiner’s vastly differing films all share is the generous and empathetic heart of their director, a deep sense of humanity, and a relentless curiosity about and love of people, in all their imperfections and quirks. It seems a cliché to call a filmmaker’s work personal—what creative work isn’t?—but in Reiner’s case, filmmaking was deeply personal, taking the form not of statements but of questions. Taken all together, they shape the lifelong quest of a man searching for enlightenment on subjects both simple and profound.

More here.

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High-achieving adults rarely began as child prodigies

Christa Lesté-Lasserre at New Scientist:

International chess masters, Olympic gold medallists and Nobel prize-winning scientists were rarely child prodigies, a review reveals. Likewise, early childhood successes and intense training programmes have rarely led to top achievement at a global level in the adult world.

The analysis – based on 19 studies involving nearly 35,000 high-performing people – shows that the vast majority of adults who lead worldwide rankings in their field of expertise grew up participating in a broad range of activities, only gradually developing their most proficient skill.

The findings contradict popular beliefs that achieving top international performance levels requires intensive, highly focused training during childhood, says Arne Güllich at RPTU Kaiserslautern in Germany.

More here.

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Flying Taxis? China Has Them

Keith Bradsher in the New York Times:

As an American reporter living in Beijing, I’ve watched both China and the rest of the world flirt with cutting-edge technologies involving robots, drones and self-driving vehicles.

But China has now raced far beyond the flirtation stage. It’s rolling out fleets of autonomous delivery trucks, experimenting with flying cars and installing parking lot robots that can swap out your E.V.’s dying battery in just minutes. There are drones that deliver lunch by lowering it from the sky on a cable.

If all that sounds futuristic and perhaps bizarre, it also shows China’s ambition to dominate clean energy technologies of all kinds, not just solar panels or battery-powered cars, then sell them to the rest of the world. China has incurred huge debts to put trillions of dollars into efforts like these, along with the full force of its state-planned economy.

More here.

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Googoosh!

Dina Nayeri at The Guardian:

If you ask any Iranian to name the most important female pop star in our country’s history, they’ll say Googoosh. Nobody else comes close. Over six decades of revolution, suppression and exile, Googoosh has gone from singer to cultural icon, a symbol of a country’s grief for its murdered, imprisoned, and muzzled artists, and a living link between pre-revolutionary Iran and the diaspora.

Googoosh was just three years old when she started singing in small halls and cabaret venues where her father worked. By her teens she was a film actor and a fashion icon. In the 60s and 70s, when my mother was a teenager, Googoosh was everywhere: on television, in films, magazines, on the radio. She kept recreating herself – her style, her moves, her hair. (My mother and many of her university classmates copied Googosh’s famous wispy haircut.) For a while, this bold, creative young woman shaped how westerners saw Iran, and how a generation of Iranian women understood modernity, femininity and public life.

more here.

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Thursday Poem

“On Turning Ten”

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I’m coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I would shine.
But now if I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

by Billy Collins
from
The Art of Drowning © 1995

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