Here, The Sun collected responses to Morrison’s influence, featuring statements by former President Barack Obama, professors who worked with her and the students who studied Morrison’s work in Goldwin Smith Hall — where she, too, studied over sixty years ago.
Recently I heard someone say something to the effect of “wow, you know, time’s going by really fast. We don’t have that much more time here.” I found out after the fact that she’s a senior and she meant that she didn’t have much time left at Cornell. My reply, however, was something like “yeah, only about sixty-five more years.” Her only response was an incredulous look. This intrigued me. Mortality, I realized, is the last holy thing yet to be profaned.
The phrase “Rest in Peace” (Latin: Requiescat in pace) has been a fixture on Christian gravestones since the 18th century. Its meaning is apparent; let the soul of the person buried here find peace in death. Three words, easily said and seemingly innocuous, yet they have profound implications. There can be no rest without work; the notion of resting in death implies that life is some sort of toil. Then there is the peace aspect of the thing.
Until it goes off the rails in its third act, The Witch maintains an unnerving, tense aura of creepiness and dread. The dread comes not from gore or bloodshed, but from the overwhelming threat of violence that seems inevitable in a 1630s Puritan setting. That is Puritan, not puritanical. These folks in bonnets and heavy cloth seem like the real witches; they would be willing to sacrifice their children if commanded to do so. The Witch occurs in an environment where religious devotion and the desire to avoid the hot place approach insanity.
I think it is safe to say that we are all pretty familiar with the apocalypse and its effects at this point. Whether it is watching a spunky girl fighting her way through its aftermath (apply this to whichever franchise you prefer), seeing aliens and zombies threaten the earth (again, your choice for this reference) or simply watching ordinary people prepare for the end of times, the apocalypse is not suddenly appearing on our screens. Despite the frequency with which our dear planet meets its end, You, Me and the Apocalypse offers a refreshingly fun and quirky take on the end times that makes it well worth watching. You, Me and the Apocalypse opens its premiere with a shot of the meteor whose impending collision threatens all life on Earth, a surprisingly calm voiceover about how death comes for everyone in the end and the sickeningly sweet tune “I Can See Clearly Now.” The camera cuts to the narrator sitting in an underground bunker, watching the news coverage and wondering how he got to be one of 15 survivors meant to be the future of the human race. So as the episode name asks, “Who Are These People” in the bunker?
As fewer sites dominate a growing portion of our music curation, an almost antithetical problem has arisen simultaneously. The long-form pop culture piece itself has fallen by the wayside as even the most powerful media organizations trade features for easily retweeted blurbs.
David Bowie was my hero. Each one of us has our own personal pantheon of inspirational figures; some venerate sports stars or actors. To simply say that the man inspired me seems insufficient, the written word incapable of grasping the impact he had upon me. When Bowie returned from seclusion for 2013’s The Next Day, I was jubilant. “Here I am, not quite dying.” I took that to be an allusion to the story of Christ.