Nirvana, Indiana: What 30 Days of Meditation Does to Your Brain (via Success)

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Success — My first meditation class was a failure. I tanked it. Bombed it worse than anything since a college essay on The Canterbury Tales.

As is typical when I’m terrible at something, I immediately set about determining how it wasn’t my fault. It had to be because I was new—new to meditation, new to Eastern customs and, honestly, new to sitting still for 20 minutes. The other seven attendees had clearly been there before. They knew when to chant, when to listen, the cadence of each surprisingly involved group reading. My strategy was to be a mere observer, remaining as invisible as possible. I tried to sit near the back, but there were only three rows of chairs so there wasn’t really a “back” so much as a “directly behind Jerry.”

The full story at Success.

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12 Things No One Could Stop Axl Rose from Wearing Onstage With Guns N’ Roses (via GQ)

Pictured: Angry Margaret Thatcher

Pictured: Angry Margaret Thatcher

 

GQ — In addition to getting away with anything he wanted, Indiana-born rock vocalist W. Axl Rose spent his band’s 1991-1993 Use Your Illusion tour cycling through an increasingly unhinged series of onstage outfits that screamed, “Seriously, I can wear anything I want and you guys won’t say a thing, now can someone please launder my Manson shirt.” Here now, with the benefit of hindsight and in preparation for the band’s reunion tour — which is still happening, right, you guys are packing and everything? — a brief review of some of Axl’s memorable onstage looks:

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Enter the jungle.

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That Time the Insurance Company Wrote My 3-Year-Old (via the Washington Post)

ARTIST'S RENDERING. The actual cast was purple.

ARTIST’S RENDERING. The actual cast was purple.

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On Parenting at the Washington Post — My son doesn’t get very much mail, partly because he doesn’t write a lot of letters and partly because he’s 3. So I found it odd a few months ago when he received an envelope from the Insurance Company, addressed to him, a child who not only can’t read his last name but also has never heard of the Insurance Company. That’s one reason I’m super-envious of him. (Reason No. 2: Daily naps. Reason No. 3: Being able to eat squeezable applesauce without everyone else on the plane looking at you.)

The letter confused me, and I spent some time mulling it while I sipped my applesauce. Here’s what happened.

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The Cubs Are Going to Win It All This Year, Unless That Headline Just Cursed Them Forever (via GQ)

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GQ — It is the weirdest feeling to walk into Wrigley Field and expect good things. This is Wrigley. Expectation doesn’t happen here. Hope, sure. Delirium, annually. Layering yourself a mental brickwork of psychological defense against a century of history, yes, as a matter of course. But when you’re sitting in the third-base grandstands and Addison Russell has just crushed a three-run homer for the lead in the eighth and the place feels like it’s going to explode it’s hard not to think one thing: Where the hell am I?

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Trevor Noah Comes to Indy, Has Some Thoughts on That One Guy (via Indy Star)

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Indy Star — As luck would have it, Trevor Noah calls precisely four seconds after the phone bings to announce President Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court, a move that will inflame the already preeeeeetty well inflamed political universe for the next seven hours — the exact time that Noah and his team will be expected to gauge, parse and tear apart reaction on “The Daily Show.” Happily, Noah is reassuring when I mention the terrible timing: “Don’t worry about that,” he says with a chuckle, “In this election cycle, every day’s terrible timing.”

Indeed, in six months as host of “The Daily Show,” Noah, 32, has been expected to not only assume control of the mothership of American political satire but also inhabit the spirit of its previous host, all while dealing with the unhinged nuttiness of what everyone keeps calling a presidential race. He arrived with a strong pedigree — Noah was a rock star in his native South Africa and had spent years on the American comedy circuit — but his nomination was still a huge surprise, the christening of a new face who’d quickly earned Jon Stewart’s blessings but had actually appeared on his show all of three times. It’s an insanely demanding position, and not one you’d think would lend itself to jetting around for stand-up dates.

More from the Daily Show host. 

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Violence Never Solves Anything, Unless You’re 4, When It Totally Does (via the Washington Post)

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Washington Post — Do all 4-year-olds spend their time running around hitting things? Things like walls and chairs and fireplaces and their father’s shins and the fish tank? Because we’ve encountered a pretty consistent hitting issue with our 4-year-old, and we’re not sure where it’s coming from. Like many parents, we’ve taught for years that you don’t solve your problems with your fists (that’s what the light sabers are for).

Frankly, I’m not too bothered by the hitting of the walls, or of me (although the fish are getting a little anxious). It’s often accidental, I’m accustomed to it and it doesn’t hurt much, except the time he accidentally connected while holding one of his wooden Thomas trains, which, I am not going to lie, hurt like a Gordon. I’m pretty sure there’s still red paint on my teeth. We turned that into a Very Serious Lesson about resolving your issues calmly and patiently (and some words you’re not supposed to say when you’ve been hit in the teeth).

The full fight story over at the Washington Post.

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The Glamorous Truth About Working From Home (via Success)

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Pictured: Me. Totally.

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Success — Hello. My name’s Jeff, and I work from home. I could be writing this on my back porch, where I often hang out in my fleece PJs while sipping fresh coffee after rolling out of bed at 8:15 a.m. (or was it 8:45 a.m.?).

Or I could totally still be in bed.

But the truth is I’m writing this at my son’s swim practice, happening some 15 rows of concrete seats below me. A coach blows a whistle every 20 seconds, and if you just started imagining the smell of chlorine and pee, you’ve got the right idea.

I’ve worked on my porch or in bed before a couple of times. But this right here, this is what it’s like working from home. It’s not what you see on millennial job boards or in stock art pictures—images of roguishly unshaven guys in T-shirts or women with tousled hair and bathrobes. (Frankly, those people are ridiculous stereotypes. My slippers look nothing like theirs.)

The full story at Success Magazine.

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He’s the DJ: Jazzy Jeff on the Fresh Prince Reunion Tour, the NWA Movie and His Old Name (via Indy Star)

He's the DJ.

He’s the DJ.

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Indy Star — In case you’re wondering if famous people ever do this sort of thing, yes, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince will occasionally find themselves staring at each other like, “Can you believe this?”

“It’s like you’re in this taxi on this amazing ride, and you don’t know when it’ll be over so you just learn to sit back and enjoy the view,” says DJ Jazzy Jeff. “I never got used to this. I’ll never be used to this.”

By day, Jazzy Jeff is the the exceedingly humble 51-year-old Jeff Townes of Philadelphia, who talks like a guy who’s sold about 5 million fewer albums than he has. But he spent the beginning of his 30-year career as half of one of hip-hop’s most recognizable mainstream duos and the rest evolving into a godfather among DJs and a turntablist who continues to drop jaws. “(Music) has taken me around the world 50 times over. I’ve gone to places I couldn’t pronounce when I started,” he says. “And I can’t help but go back to the idea that it’s two turntables, a mixer and some records that put me here.”

More at the Indy Star.

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Comedy is One Giant Step for Mankind (and Mick Foley) (via Indy Star)

For All Mankind (AP)

For All Mankind (AP)

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Indy Star — In our 20-minute interview, wrestling legend-turned-comic Mick Foley spot-named the starting lineup of IU’s 1976 championship team, recalled discussing “the gentler sides of his personality” with the lead singer of Twisted Sister, confirmed that he wrote his New York Times best-selling memoir (yeah) longhand and said he literally cannot be around quiche.

If you’re not familiar with Foley, who appears March 13 at Crackers in what he says will be his last comedy/storytelling appearance “for the foreseeable future,” there are many ways to introduce yourself to his work. But you should probably start with his 1998 “Hell in the Cell” match vs. the Undertaker, a legendarily brutal bout in which he (as Mankind) gets thrown off a 16-foot-high steel cage through a ringside table, is wheeled out on a stretcher, lumbers off the stretcher, returns to the cage, climbs to the top again, gets choke-slammed through the cage onto the mat and is briefly shown with a tooth poking out of his nostril. There’s also a body slam onto a pile of thumbtacks.

More Foley at the Indy Star.

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Urban Outfitters is Selling Cassettes and We All Just Need to Pump the Brakes (via GQ)

(via GQ)

(via GQ)

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GQ — For the last several years, the mall rats at Urban Outfitters have served as some of our nation’s leading vendors of vinyl records, which is news that would be morally disquieting if I didn’t buy vinyl at Urban Outfitters, which I have been known to do, because they had a bright-red edition of the Charlie Brown Christmas LP and I am not made of stone.

Look, I understand that America’s Adult Buying Population has a soft spot for literally anything it previously encountered during the glory days of adolescence, but let’s be clear: Cassettes are stupid, for these very good reasons.

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