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Houston neighbors pull back the curtains and expose each other’s lives.
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Each month a new artist; each image a new angle. This month: M. Sharkey.
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A San Francisco photographer on the eternal search for the girls of summer.
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Ginger Red by Aaron Cansler
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61 Frames Per Second by John Constantine
Today in Nerve's videogame blog: Street Fighter. The movie. A new one. With that chick from that Superman show. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about!
 PERSONAL ESSAYS

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So Governor Spitzer spends $80,000 on gals rated in "diamonds", and a major topic of conversation is why Silda Spitzer is standing by her man: Is she dumb, greedy, withholding and therefore to blame, in shock, a doormat, furthering abuse of women?

What about none of the above? I don't understand the fuss about wives standing by their whoring hounds of husbands. Fucking hookers is like smoking doobies — it's illegal but it really shouldn't be, it's none of my business, and the spouse gets mad only if they don't enjoy doing the same thing themselves.

My friend Bernie, in her demure way, disagrees: "I don't see the world as a place where women need to stand by shit-stained men in a sham family to show the kids what family means."

But family means different things to different people.

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So does marriage. Sex is not the most important thing in so many marriages.

On TV, various groupings of three female pundits keep discussing infidelity as if it were one, clear thing, as if politicians and preachers are different from us, as if because they talk about fidelity and righteousness they have to live it. Writers and philosophers talk about freedom and truth — does that mean we live it perfectly? It's our job, our desire, our wish, and focus. That doesn't mean we got it down. Who are those TV pundits to say what faithfulness means in Spitzer's marriage, anymore than any three people can decide what freedom means to somebody else?

Me, I would leave him because it appears he embezzled, not because he left his shin-high black socks on with a professional. I used to follow scandals for details like that, for the same reason I watch Divorce Court: I'm curious about people. I don't care if it's the president or my balding neighbor. I want to know what the socks mean. Did he take his pants down to the ankles for a blowjob, then kick the pants off and dive in without remembering to remove socks? Do you do that when you're spending $30,000 in one night? Or does he think he has ugly feet, and left them on purposely? Normally I would raise these questions to various people, turning the "salacious details" into a springboard for discussion, for investigation into the human psyche.

But after certain experiences in my personal life, I have come to see these details as heartaches.



        


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