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“How I wish he’d stuck to being himself. Instead, he chose to be me.” How it feels to have one’s poetry plagiarized.

Time is running out! If you’re still dragging your feet on a Valentine’s card for your significant other, go check out these hilarious monstress valentines from Madeline Gobbo at The Toast. Her “Valentines for the Indifferent” from last year can still work, too.

Where did Modernism come from? Did it spring from the alienation engendered by the nineteenth century? Or did it spring instead from — as Hannah Sullivan argues in her new book, The Work of Revision — the typewriter?

I am very sad to report that William Gay, whom we featured in our “Post-40 Bloomers” series last fall, died on Friday, at the age of 68.  From Clarksville Online: “At first, I would send a story to the New Yorker and when it came back, I’d send it to The Atlantic, or Harper’s or Esquire. I didn’t know about the college literary magazines but when I found out about them, I started getting published. After I finally got published in the Georgia Review, I got a call from the editor at The Atlantic. He asked why I wasn’t sending them something because they’d like to publish my work. I told him I’d been sending things for years. He said they never got to his desk. I had to wonder what kind of operation they were running.”  Look for his final novel The Lost Country, hopefully coming soon.

“Notes: Finally, a Pokémon that gets it: the living epitome of the unbearable ennui that characterizes life in the modern age. Despite having the mass of a cement truck, the Snorlax has the calm bearing of a yogi. Its rhythmic snoring chimes the steadfast paternoster of enlightened meditation. This is one Pokémon that truly doesn’t give a shit. One cannot help but feel humbled to be in the face of divinity.” The only thing that could make Pokémon Go any better would be playing it with Anthony Bourdain. At McSweeney’s, Allen Zhang imagines the opportunity.