Download the Complete Organ Works of J.S. Bach for Free

“The best proof we have that life is good is that to each of us, on the day we are born, comes the music of Johann Sebas­t­ian Bach,” writes J.M. Coet­zee in Diary of a Bad Year. “It comes as a gift, unearned, unmer­it­ed, for free.” While the respect­ed nov­el­ist voiced that thought, as he often does, through a high­ly opin­ion­at­ed pro­tag­o­nist, I can’t help but sus­pect that author and char­ac­ter to some extent agree on this. Some of us dis­cov­er Bach right away, in child­hood; oth­ers do it much lat­er. And whether or not we’ve earned or mer­it­ed his music, it now comes to us more freely than ever.

Take, for exam­ple, Bach’s com­plete organ works, which you can down­load at no cost from Block M Records. Per­form­ing them all, we have Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan’s Dr. James Kib­bie — “on orig­i­nal baroque organs in Ger­many,” no less.

They’ve orga­nized the col­lec­tions, released under a Cre­ative Com­mons license, into a com­plete cat­a­log (that you can also search)—with down­load­able groups (from trio sonatas and con­cer­ti to the Schübler Chorales and the Orgel­büch­lein), as well as a list of ever­green famil­iar mas­ter­works (such as the Toc­ca­ta and Fugue in D Minor and the Pas­sacaglia in C Minor). They’ve made it easy to access and enjoy an impor­tant part of Bach’s wide, huge­ly influ­en­tial, and end­less­ly endur­ing body of work. The ques­tion of whether life is ulti­mate­ly good you’ll have to set­tle for your­self, but you can eas­i­ly start gath­er­ing the evi­dence right here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Open Gold­berg Vari­a­tions: J.S. Bach’s Mas­ter­piece Free to Down­load

Glenn Gould Explains the Genius of Johann Sebas­t­ian Bach (1962)

The Genius of J.S. Bach’s “Crab Canon” Visu­al­ized on a Möbius Strip

Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” Mov­ing­ly Flash­mobbed in Spain

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

High School Teacher Reads Allen Ginsberg’s Explicit Poem “Please Master” and Loses His Job

Image by Michiel hendryckx.

Image by Michiel Hendryckx.

Although the bound­aries of what should pass for free speech in high school Eng­lish class­rooms will be for­ev­er in debate, most every­one would agree some bound­aries must exist. But what of the speech of famous authors? Of tow­er­ing fig­ures of 20th cen­tu­ry poet­ry? Should their speech be sub­ject to review? What of an Eng­lish teacher who allows the most risqué Beat poem you’ve ever heard to be read aloud in class by the poet him­self, Allen Gins­berg, via an online video (per­haps this one)? Award-win­ning Eng­lish teacher David Olio, a beloved 19-year vet­er­an, did just that when a stu­dent asked to share Ginsberg’s ecsta­t­ic, and very explic­it, poem “Please Mas­ter” with the class.

After com­plaints from sev­er­al stu­dents, the school admin­is­tra­tion sus­pend­ed Olio, then forced him to resign. Whether or not this deci­sion was just is a debate that extends beyond the scope of this post. The vari­ables are many, as Slate’s sym­pa­thet­ic Mark Joseph Stern admits, includ­ing the fact that Olio did not exact­ly pre­pare his stu­dents for what was to come, nor give them the oppor­tu­ni­ty to opt out. The high school seniors—on the thresh­old of adult­hood and some already with one foot in college—may not have had their “emo­tion­al health” endan­gered, as Olio’s ter­mi­na­tion let­ter alleged, but it’s lit­tle won­der some of them found the mate­r­i­al shock­ing.

Ginsberg’s poem, which you can hear him read above, describes a “fan­ta­sized sex­u­al encounter between Gins­berg and Neal Cas­sady, the inspi­ra­tion for the Dean Mori­ar­ty char­ac­ter in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.” It is graph­ic, writes Stern, but “not obscene.” Instead—in its allu­sions to St. Teresa’s angel­ic vis­i­ta­tion in a “pro­fane descrip­tion of anal sex as a near­ly divine act”—Ginsberg’s poem is “dan­ger­ous because it jux­ta­pos­es ten­der­ness with masochism; dan­ger­ous because it rap­tur­ous­ly cel­e­brates a vision of same-sex inti­ma­cy we are only sup­posed to whis­per about.” Read the poem, lis­ten to Gins­berg read it, and judge for your­self.

Of course, this is hard­ly the first time Ginsberg’s work has caused con­tro­ver­sy. His Beat epic “Howl” (1955), with its sex­u­al­ly charged lines, irked the U.S. gov­ern­ment, who seized copies of the poem and put its pub­lish­er, poet and City Lights’ book­seller Lawrence Fer­linghet­ti, on tri­al for obscen­i­ty. Well over six­ty years lat­er, Fer­linghet­ti has writ­ten in defense of David Olio. We can safe­ly assume that Gins­berg, who died in 1997, also would approve. And while we have every right to be shocked by Ginsberg’s poem, or not, and find the deci­sion to fire Olio war­rant­ed, or not, I tend to agree with Stern when he writes “if every Eng­lish teacher were that enthu­si­as­tic about his sub­ject, Amer­i­ca would be a much more lit­er­ate, edu­cat­ed and inter­est­ing place.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The First Record­ing of Allen Gins­berg Read­ing “Howl” (1956)

Allen Gins­berg Reads a Poem He Wrote on LSD to William F. Buck­ley

Allen Gins­berg Talks About Com­ing Out to His Fam­i­ly & Fel­low Poets on 1978 Radio Show (NSFW)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

MIT Creates Amazing Self-Folding Origami Robots & Leaping Cheetah Robots

Last Thurs­day, MIT released two stag­ger­ing­ly cool videos. And I don’t think I’m being hyper­bol­ic in say­ing that. Above we have a robot­ic chee­tah that’s “trained” to “see and jump over hur­dles as it runs — mak­ing this the first four-legged robot to run and jump over obsta­cles autonomous­ly.” The chee­tah knows when to jump by using LIDAR — “a visu­al sys­tem that uses reflec­tions from a laser to map ter­rain.” MIT News has more on the tech behind this cre­ation.

Mak­ing almost equal­ly big news is anoth­er MIT inven­tion — a minia­ture origa­mi robot that self-folds, walks, swims, and degrades. As the elec­tri­cal engi­neer­ing web­site IEEE Spec­trum explains:

The unfold­ed robot, which is made of a mag­net and PVC sand­wiched between laser-cut struc­tur­al lay­ers (poly­styrene or paper), weighs just 0.31 g and mea­sures 1.7 cm on a side. Once placed on a heat­ing ele­ment, the PVC con­tracts, and where the struc­tur­al lay­ers have been cut, it cre­ates folds.…

Once you’re done mess­ing around, you can dri­ve the robot into a tank of ace­tone and it will entire­ly dis­solve.

One day, if things go accord­ing to plan, these crea­tures will become small enough to per­form impor­tant med­ical tasks with­in your body, and then when they’re done, poof, they’ll be gone. And you’ll have an MIT researcher part­ly to thank.

via Men­tal Floss

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

MIT Teach­es You How to Speak Ital­ian & Cook Ital­ian Food All at Once (Free Online Course)

Junot Díaz’s Syl­labi for His MIT Writ­ing Class­es, and the Nov­els on His Read­ing List

Free Online Engi­neer­ing Cours­es

 

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Watch Alfred Hitchcock Make Cameo Appearances in 37 of His Films

It may sound redun­dant, but to many peo­ple a Hitch­cock film would not be a Hitch­cock film with­out Hitch­cock. By this I mean not only Hitchcock’s mas­ter­ful com­mand of light and shad­ow, cam­era move­ment, and edit­ing, but also the brief, wit­ty appear­ances of the man him­self, in front of the cam­era.

Of course we have the droll intro of the great direc­tor’s own TV show, with his sil­hou­ette slid­ing into a car­toon of his jow­ly pro­file. We also have the chance to spot him near­ly every­where else in his body of work since he appears—as a bystander or as some form of com­ic relief—in 37 of his films: from 1927’s The Lodger to 1976’s Fam­i­ly Plot. In this last cameo, as you can see below, he appears again in sil­hou­ette.

family-plot_2301537k

At the top of the post, you can watch a super­cut of all 37 of these cameos. And see a com­plete list, with descrip­tions, at Wikipedia. AMC’s Tim Dirks tells us of “two recur­ring themes” in Hitchcock’s film appear­ances: “(1) Hitch­cock often car­ried a musi­cal instru­ment, and (2) Hitch­cock often used pub­lic trans­porta­tion (bus­es, trains, etc.), and was seen as a casu­al pass­er-by in the crowd in the pub­lic place (train sta­tions, at an air­port, etc.). Most of the cameos appeared ear­ly in the film, and often there was a bit of mild humor in the appear­ance.” Though they may seem nar­cis­sis­tic, Hitch­cock promised the cameos were for the sake of his fans, who cer­tain­ly appre­ci­at­ed the recur­ring trade­mark. “I always give a lit­tle thought to my appear­ances,” said the direc­tor in a 1966 inter­view, “and come on as ear­ly as possible—don’t want to hold them in sus­pense!”

rear-window_2301550k

The Hitch­cock cameos began by acci­dent, writes Mys­teryNet, when, “short an actor in one of his first films, Hitch­cock took it upon him­self to play the small part.” In this movie, The Lodger (watch it online), Hitch­cock actu­al­ly appears twice—as a news­room clerk and again lat­er in a crowd. He would make two appear­ances in three more films: Sus­pi­cion, Rope, and Under Capri­corn. Most of his cameos are very brief, some shot at a dis­tance, and oth­ers with his back to the cam­era. To spot Hitch­cock in your favorite of his films [you can watch 23 for free in our col­lec­tion of Free Hitch­cock films], see AMC’s com­plete list, which fea­tures thumb­nails and approx­i­ma­tions of how many min­utes into the film he appears. Also don’t miss The Tele­graph’s com­pre­hen­sive gallery of stills of Hitchcock’s cameos, like that of his Rear Win­dow appear­ance above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

23 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online 

1000 Frames of Hitch­cock: See Each of Alfred Hitchcock’s 52 Films Reduced to 1,000 Artis­tic Frames

Alfred Hitchcock’s Rules for Watch­ing Psy­cho (1960)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

JS Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier Artistically Animated with Pulsing Neon Lights

The Well-Tem­pered Clavier, com­posed by JS Bach between 1722 and 1742, remains one of the most inno­v­a­tive and influ­en­tial works in the his­to­ry of West­ern clas­si­cal music. A web­site from North­ern Ari­zona State U. sums up what essen­tial­ly made Bach’s com­po­si­tion — a col­lec­tion of 48 pre­ludes and fugues spread across two vol­umes — so inno­v­a­tive, so influ­en­tial.

One of Bach’s pri­ma­ry pur­pos­es in com­pos­ing these cycles was to demon­strate the fea­si­bil­i­ty of the “well tem­pered” tun­ing sys­tem that would allow for com­po­si­tion in every key.

Anoth­er pur­pose of the Well-Tem­pered Clavier was to reveal how mod­ern and pro­gres­sive com­po­si­tion could be informed by con­ser­v­a­tive ideas. The Well-Tem­pered Clavier is an ency­clo­pe­dia of nation­al and his­tor­i­cal styles and idioms. Its influ­ences range from the white-note style of the Renais­sance motet to the French manier. Iron­i­cal­ly, half of this styl­is­tic smor­gas­bord is expressed in fugue, a form that was out of date upon the cycle’s com­ple­tion. Bach was of course aware of this. His hope was to defend the ven­er­a­ble form by demon­strat­ing how it could absorb con­tem­po­rary fla­vors.

If you’ve nev­er expe­ri­enced Bach’s piece, then I’d encour­age you to lis­ten to the 1960s record­ing by Glenn Gould. Or watch a sec­tion of the piece being per­formed on the All of Bach web­site — a site that will even­tu­al­ly put 1080 Bach per­for­mances online, for free.

Above, we have some­thing a lit­tle dif­fer­ent. Cre­at­ed by direc­tor and visu­al artist Alan War­bur­ton, this new­ly-released video takes a famous sec­tion of Bach’s com­po­si­tion and ani­mates it with puls­ing neon lights. Describ­ing what went into mak­ing this video, the Sin­fi­ni Music web­site writes:

Alan’s incred­i­ble design incor­po­rat­ed many thou­sands of sep­a­rate CGI lights, every one of which had to be tai­lored to the pre­cise dura­tion of Pierre-Lau­rent Aimard’s note strikes. ‘I need­ed to find a way of automat­ing the process of these turn­ing on and off in time with the music,’ says Alan. With no midi file of the per­for­mance avail­able, he was faced with the seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble task of match­ing every note of a stand-in midi file to the record­ing, by ear alone…

Then it was a ques­tion of ren­der­ing the ani­mat­ed data in CGI with­in the vir­tu­al space cre­at­ed espe­cial­ly for the ani­ma­tion. This too, was no mean feat, even for the army of cloud-based com­put­ers that had a hand in the task. Each frame took 15 min­utes to ren­der because of the thou­sands of cal­cu­la­tions involved in acti­vat­ing each light as well as the shad­ows, glows and reflec­tions required to make the scene look tru­ly life-like.

Sin­fi­ni Music, which com­mis­sioned this project, has more on War­bur­ton’s cre­ation here.

Hope this gets your week­end start­ed on the right, er, note.

via The Kids Should See This

Relat­ed Con­tent:

All of Bach Is Putting Videos of 1,080 Bach Per­for­mances Online

A Big Bach Down­load: All of Bach’s Organ Works for Free

The Genius of J.S. Bach’s “Crab Canon” Visu­al­ized on a Möbius Strip

Virginia Woolf’s Haunting Suicide Note Read by Actress Louise Brealey

A few weeks ago, we fea­tured Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch’s read­ing of the let­ter Alan Tur­ing (whom Cum­ber­batch por­trayed in last year’s The Imi­ta­tion Game) wrote before his 1952 con­vic­tion of “gross inde­cen­cy.” It came from Let­ters Live, “a series of live events cel­e­brat­ing the pow­er of lit­er­ary cor­re­spon­dence” put on by pub­lish­er Canon­gate and Cum­ber­batch’s pro­duc­tion com­pa­ny Sun­ny­March and “inspired by Shaun Ush­er’s Let­ters of Note” — a site Open Cul­ture read­ers sure­ly know well by now.

Back in 2013, Josh Jones wrote a post here on Vir­ginia Woolf’s hand­writ­ten 1941 sui­cide note, “a haunt­ing and beau­ti­ful doc­u­ment, in all its unadorned sin­cer­i­ty behind which much tur­moil and anguish lie.” Hav­ing seen that note, per­haps you’d also like to hear it per­formed. If so, you’ll want to watch the Let­ters Live video at the top of the post, which offers an inter­pre­ta­tion of the To the Light­house author’s dec­la­ra­tion that “I can’t fight any longer” by Cum­ber­batch’s Sher­lock co-star Louise Brealey.

If you haven’t had your fill of lit­er­ary cor­re­spon­dence read aloud by these not­ed British per­form­ers, do pay a vis­it to Let­ters Live’s Youtube page, where you can also hear Brealey read­ing let­ters from Bessie Moore and Clemen­tine Churchill as well as Cum­ber­batch read­ing let­ters from Chris Bark­er and more from Alan Tur­ing. Watch­ing inter­net videos of live per­for­mances of tra­di­tion­al let­ters — the mind may reel at all these simul­ta­ne­ous lay­ers of medi­a­tion and inter­pre­ta­tion, but the pieces of cor­re­spon­dence cho­sen still speak straight to the heart.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vir­ginia Woolf’s Hand­writ­ten Sui­cide Note: A Painful and Poignant Farewell (1941)

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

James Joyce’s Dirty Love Let­ters Read Aloud by Mar­tin Starr, Paget Brew­ster & Oth­er TV Com­e­dy Actors (NSFW)

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Frida Kahlo’s Colorful Clothes Revealed for the First Time & Photographed by Ishiuchi Miyako

Frida 1

Imag­ine the dress up fun we could have in Grandma’s attic, if Grand­ma were Fri­da Kahlo (1907 – 1954) and the attic was a sealed off Mex­i­co City bath­room where Grand­pa — artist Diego Rivera, natch — had stashed all her stuff.

Yel­low-laced scar­let booties trimmed with beads!

02_FridaKahlo

A glam­orous, rot­ting swim­suit and an extreme­ly famil­iar-look­ing tra­di­tion­al Tehua­na head­dress!

A saucy pros­thet­ic leg! A skirt­ed body cast embell­ished with hand-paint­ed ham­mer and sick­le.

Frida-Kahlo-galeria

Now let us take a minute to live vic­ar­i­ous­ly through pho­tog­ra­ph­er Ishi­uchi Miyako, whose pre­vi­ous sub­jects have includ­ed the cloth­ing of her late moth­er and vic­tims of the atom­ic bomb­ing of Hiroshi­ma. In 2004, the Museo Fri­da Kahlo’s staff start­ed orga­niz­ing Frida’s per­son­al effects. Rivera (1886–1957) had stored them in the afore­men­tioned Mex­i­co city bath­room, along with instruc­tions that the room should remain sealed for a peri­od of 15 years fol­low­ing his death. In 2011, the muse­um invit­ed Miyako in to doc­u­ment the far-from-mint con­di­tion relics, almost 300 in total.

frida glasses

“If I met her, I wouldn’t ask any ques­tions,” the pho­tog­ra­ph­er avowed in an inter­view with AnOth­er Mag­a­zine. “I would only want to stare at her and touch her body.”

There is an inti­ma­cy to her gaze that sug­gests this state­ment might be true. Rarely have a cou­ple of bot­tles of dried up nail pol­ish exud­ed such sen­su­al­i­ty.

Miyako’s Fri­da pho­tographs have been col­lect­ed in a book, and can be seen in the flesh in London’s Michael Hop­pen Gallery through mid-July.

via Patron of the Arts

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1933 Arti­cle on Fri­da Kahlo: “Wife of the Mas­ter Mur­al Painter Glee­ful­ly Dab­bles in Works of Art”

Fri­da Kahlo Writes a Per­son­al Let­ter to Geor­gia O’Keeffe After O’Keeffe’s Ner­vous Break­down (1933)

Pho­tos of a Very Young Fri­da Kahlo, Tak­en by Her Dad

Fri­da Kahlo and Diego Rivera Vis­it Leon Trot­sky in Mex­i­co, 1938

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

The Absurd Philosophy of Albert Camus Presented in a Short Animated Film by Alain De Botton

What is the mean­ing of life? This may sound sim­plis­tic or naïve, espe­cial­ly in rela­tion to much con­tem­po­rary phi­los­o­phy, which assumes the ques­tion is inco­her­ent and reserves its focus for small­er and small­er slices of expe­ri­ence. And, of course, pri­or to the rise of sec­u­lar moder­ni­ty, the ques­tion was answered for us—and still is for a great many people—by reli­gion. One either believed the answer, through coer­cion or oth­er­wise, or kept qui­et about it. But at least since Søren Kierkegaard, philoso­phers in the West have tak­en the ques­tion very seri­ous­ly, and found all of the answers want­i­ng. By the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, there seemed to thinkers like Albert Camus to be no answer. Life has no mean­ing. It is inher­ent­ly absurd and pur­pose­less.

This Camus con­clud­ed in chal­leng­ing essays like “The Myth of Sisy­phus” and nov­els like L’Etranger, a book most of us know as The Stranger but which Alain de Bot­ton, in his School of Life video above on Camus’ phi­los­o­phy, trans­lates as The Out­sider. Read­ing this book, de Bot­ton observes, “has long been an ado­les­cent rite of pas­sage” since many of its themes “are first tack­led at sev­en­teen or so.” Its pro­tag­o­nist, Meur­sault, an old­er, more nihilis­tic ver­sion of Hold­en Caulfield, illus­trates Camus’ the­sis through his stead­fast refusal to iden­ti­fy with any mean­ing-mak­ing insti­tu­tions or emo­tions, and through a casu­al, sense­less mur­der. But while Meur­sault may see through the pre­ten­sions of his soci­ety, he has failed to see the world as it is.

Col­in Wil­son, anoth­er author many peo­ple read dur­ing intel­lec­tu­al­ly for­ma­tive years—who wrote an exis­ten­tial­ist study also called The Out­sider—describes Meursault’s indif­fer­ence to life as a prod­uct of “his sense of unre­al­i­ty.” Only the loom­ing prospect of death awak­ens him from what Meur­sault calls “a heavy grime of unre­al­i­ty.” Instead of despair­ing at life’s empti­ness, Camus deter­mined that true free­dom required engag­ing ful­ly with life, in the face of futility—with the ulti­mate prospect of death and the option of sui­cide always in view. Camus, says de Bot­ton, “writes with excep­tion­al inten­si­ty… as a guide for the rea­sons to live.” De Bot­ton some­what super­fi­cial­ly prais­es Camus’ sex­u­al prowess, fash­ion sense, and good looks as more than just “styl­is­tic quirks,” but as mark­ers of his psy­cho­log­i­cal health.

But more than just a ladies man, Camus was a “great cham­pi­on of the ordi­nary,” as well as a cham­pi­on foot­baller and Nobel prize-win­ning lit­er­ary star. He was also a ful­ly com­mit­ted jour­nal­ist and polit­i­cal activist for much of his career, who stood by his indi­vid­ual prin­ci­ples even as oth­er left­ist intel­lec­tu­als got swept up in the allure of Sovi­et com­mu­nism under Stal­in. In the doc­u­men­tary above, we learn impor­tant details of many of these qual­i­ties, as well of Camus’ trou­bled ear­ly life. Giv­en his back­ground of impov­er­ish­ment and loss, it is indeed remark­able that Camus—much more so than oth­er, more priv­i­leged philosophers—lived such a rich, ful­ly engaged life.

In a rare tele­vi­sion inter­view above, Camus answers ques­tions about his the­atri­cal adap­ta­tion of Dostoevsky’s The Pos­sessed, anoth­er nov­el that con­fronts head on the ques­tion of life’s mean­ing. He speaks of the novel’s “nihilism,” now “the real­i­ty that we have to face.” Camus does not men­tion that Dos­toyevsky, like the exis­ten­tial­ist Kierkegaard, man­aged to sal­vage a kind of reli­gious faith in the face of empti­ness; the French philoso­pher and writer was con­vinced of the impos­si­bil­i­ty of such a thing. But whether one draws Dos­to­evsky or Camus’ con­clu­sions, both would sug­gest that to live authen­ti­cal­ly, one must seri­ous­ly grap­ple with the prob­lem of mean­ing­less­ness and the real­i­ty of death.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Albert Camus Deliv­er His Nobel Prize Accep­tance Speech (1957)

Albert Camus: Soc­cer Goalie

Exis­ten­tial Phi­los­o­phy of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Camus Explained with 8‑Bit Video Games

Niet­zsche, Wittgen­stein & Sartre Explained with Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tions by The School of Life

Down­load 130 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es: Tools for Think­ing About Life, Death & Every­thing Between

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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