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On the Urge to Violence in a Time of Trump

An immigrant on what happens when neighbors turn on each other:

"Every Bosnian I know had a friend, or even a family member, who flipped and betrayed the life they had shared until, in the early 1990s, the war started. My best high-school friend turned into a rabid Serbian nationalist and left his longtime girlfriend in Sarajevo so he could take part in its siege. My favorite literature professor became one of the main ideologues of Serbian fascism. Just last week, I talked to a Muslim man from Foča whose mother was repeatedly raped by his Serb friend, and whose brother was killed by their neighbor. Yugoslavia and Bosnia had provided a sense of societal stability for a couple of generations, which is why the betrayal was so shocking to so many of us."

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Aleksandar Hemon on the Longform Podcast.

How Podcasting Is Reshaping Broadcasting

"One of the nice things about audio is that you can actually multitask quite well with it. In some ways, there are people listening who aren’t necessarily stopping doing some of the other things they were doing. They might be exercising, commuting, or even reading while they’re listening."

The Longform Guide to Journalism Hoaxes, Pranks and Lies

Stephen Glass, Jayson Blair, Janet Cooke and the best April Fool's in magazine history.

A Letter to a Younger Me

I remember when you were a little girl, you used to call yourself “peach-brown”. Peach represented your mother, brown represented your father, and together they made peach-brown, a perfect articulation at the time for what you were. The colors came from the crayons you matched to the skin of your parents, and although they were separate and didn’t mix together very well on paper, they were the best you had at the time. This silly little phrase represented what would become a lifelong struggle of coming into your own identity.

How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America: A Remembrance

This isn't an essay or simply a woe-is-we narrative about how hard it is to be a black boy in America. This is a lame attempt at remembering the contours of slow death and life in America for one black American teenager under Central Mississippi skies. I wish I could get my Yoda on right now and surmise all this shit into a clean sociopolitical pull-quote that shows supreme knowledge and absolute emotional transformation, but I don't want to lie.