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Social arbitrage investing is a unique strategy that leverages trending topics, social media discussions, and everyday culture to profit in the stock market. If you keep a keen eye on pop culture, there are many opportunities to use this to your advantage as a retail investor. This article highlights everything you need to know about social arbitrage investing.
Highlights from the article by Sophie Wilson in 1 Granary, published August 7th, 2019.
Yet even when I’m really angry at fashion and I feel like I can’t take it anymore, I’m always drawn back to it. It’s almost as if it’s pulling me in even when I’m trying to get out.
If it’s an interview with someone, I think it’s always nice when you get past the facade of who that person is. [...] When we do interviews, I often ask our writers to maybe ask what their favorite song was when they were fourteen or something like that, just to get something started on a different note. When it comes to articles that are more like essays, I’m interested in any subject as long as it’s well written and it feels like the person who wrote it is passionate and engaged.
Monthly magazines are thinning out, there are less and less of them. It’s very difficult for magazines to give fresh information and content to readers monthly because people that want to know about things that are happening at the moment will find other sources for that information. On the other hand, if you’re interested in fashion on a larger scale, in whole season, then you get a biannual, with 300, 400, or 500 pages of great images, great interviews, in-depth articles. The future, at least from what I see and from speaking to my colleagues, is going to be biannual. The biggest challenge at the moment, at least for us, and for most others, is how to find the money to make it all possible. Advertisers and big brands are now channeling a lot of their money into social media. But I think there’s still room for advertising in print, and fortunately, quite a few of the big brands understand this. That said, I wouldn’t recommend starting a fashion magazine today if you want to be rich!
We have a policy that we only include original content that is commissioned directly by us. [...] At the beginning of the season, we simply ask how they [contributors] are feeling about the coming season, whether they have any ideas, or if they’re inspired by anything specific and we’ll have a back and forth about it. If they tell us they’re inspired by xyz or that they’d like to shoot so-and-so, then we give them the green light and off they go. [...] I think people do their best when you’re not micromanaging them, especially creative people.
Highlights from the article by Elvia Wilk on Lithub, published on August 5th, 2019
It’s no accident that the figure who becomes absent in this story [“Death by Landscape” by Margaret Atwood] is a girl. In fact, girls and women (or just not-men) might be particularly prone to “death” by landscape.
In both Richter and Koja’s stories, a woman implants herself in despair, but also in protest. To plant: to stake firmly, to fix in place. She’s tired of being told where to go, so she decides to stop going anywhere. In what may look like a gesture of passivity, even self-destruction—imprisoning herself in a pot, crucifying herself on a fencepost—she stops, she refuses, she becomes silent, she grows, she becomes.
Highlights from the article by Johanna Hedva in Mask Mag, published in January of 2016.
[Judith] Butler says that there is always one thing true about a public demonstration: the police are already there, or they are coming.
It's important that I also share the Western medical terminology that's been attached to me - whether I like it or not, it can provide a common vocabulary: "This is the oppressor's language," Adrienne Rich wrote in 1971, "yet I need it to talk to you."
Sick Woman Theory is for those who are faced with their vulnerability and unbearable fragility, every day, and so have to fight for their experience to be not only honored, but first made visible. For those who, in Audre Lorde's words, were never meant to survive: because this world was built against their survival.
Crucially: The Sick Woman is who capitalism needs to perpetuate itself. Why? Because to stay alive, capitalism cannot be responsible for our care - its logic of exploitation requires that some of us die.
Highlights from the article by Karla Cornejo Villvicencio in The New Inquiry, published August 10th, 2016.
My diagnosis was a heavy thing to carry, tolerable only when I thought of other people who have shared it. There are corners of the Internet dedicated to their shrines: Robert Lowell, Van Gogh, Kurt Cobain, Jackson Pollock, Edgar Allen Poe, Lou Reed, Tennessee Williams.
My doctor had me on some meds that interacted dangerously with the wisdom tooth pain medicine I had recently taken and she knew I was on and I lost consciousness and vomited blood outside a lecture hall.
I am not ashamed of my mental illness, but I will not say I am proud of it, because I am very careful about what I make with my hands and this is not it. [...] I am proud of myself at night, when I have made it through another day, harder to kill than a weed, and I watch my person nod off at the right part of Moby Dick where the harpooner makes his entrance. It has been a year of nighttime reading and I think we're on page 20. But I am not proud of my mental illness. I do all the fucking work.
Highlights from the essay by Elizabeth Metzger in Guernica Mag, published May 11th, 2018.
Death is always wed to chance, and by wed I do mean they love and tire of each other, eternally. The chance of outlasting, of beating the odds, of healing, of faking out, of coming back. It is, until the very last rattle and breath, the possibility of haunting.
If death is vague and endless, what can we do about it? Here is where the elegy is overrated. Likewise the funeral and memorial. Here is where we need the miniature. It is the mechanism of morbidity. It contains the unbearable. Imagines the unimaginable. It allows us to hold and be held. A dollhouse. A diorama.
I have read that underneath a microscope, the tear reveals its source: tear of joy, of sorrow, of physical pain. I would like a microscope, (preferably also invisible) so I could learn, without sharing the news with any of my living loves, what my eye water just became.
What is suicide but the art of saying Mine? What is suicide but the decision to be early and be late? What is suicide but an aesthetic preference?
A funeral procession is like a televised news banner, a ticker tape, a tiny field of lowly ants being burned by some big boy’s magnifying glass held up to the glamorous sun. While the child apprehends the power of the distant cosmic, it is also true that he never loved or worshiped the roots, the ants, the tendril grass-- whatever was living underneath his feet—until destroying it. We must play god and ghost. Holy vessel and empty self. Push: hold your breath. We must procreate sometimes to remember that life comes out of death, that sacrifice is physical, that growth is not just temporal.
A paradox: sometimes the sign is more important than what it says, what we think it says. We live among oracles. We misinterpret. The material helps us comprehend the metaphysical. Another paradox. Sometimes a metaphor makes the thing more real.
The miniature is always art because the miniature trains us for what we cannot live, which is to have perspective beyond our own, the chance to hold a whole world at once. To feel the omniscience of a god, and simultaneously, his safe distance from mortality. [...] Dollhouses do not teach us how to live. They let us pretend there is a world without us.
We all dread losing the ones we love. We beg them not to go even if we never possessed them in the way we wanted to. Even if we let them down or let them die alone, or lonelier. We beg them never to come back in anything but body even if exactly what we long for is spirit-wise, their genius.
A gun is a miniature of Power, because power by definition means "the capacity to produce an effect or undergo an effect." [...] Guns, as we know from Dickinson, have "the power to kill without the power to die."
After giving birth, my swollen nipples felt similarly metonymic, out of my agency. They were dark miniature mothers, foreign nurturers that drew out my childishness, my own helplessness, and transformed it into something literal and nutrient-rich.
Highlights from the article by Tasbeeth Herwees on Good.is, published June 1st, 2016.
"I lift because I'm poor," Lifterslife responded. "I'm at that age where I feel bad when I ask my parents for money that they really can't spare. 'But why don't you just go without?' you ask. Because in today's society dressing like you're poor and a bum will get you nowhere."
"Shoplifting, whether you mean it to be or not, is an anti-capitalist action," says [Britney] Summit-Gil. "You're undermining one of the basic tenets of capitalist ideology, which is that it's a mortal sin to steal or to get anything you didn't work for."
Shopping was women’s work; therefore, the majority of shoplifters were women. And not just any women—middle- and upper-class women who stuffed silk ribbons and gloves into their pockets without paying for them. These were respectable women, and to label them criminals would undo a social order the elite establishment held precious to its survival. So they were labeled “sick” instead.
[Tammy] Whitlock conveys the details of the Ramsbotham case and explains that survival in class-obsessed societies necessitated the acquisition of social symbols like ribbons and gloves. "Such 'fripperies' had real significance in day-to-day life in maintaining or increasing status," she writes. "Indirectly these women were stealing status."
"Being a teen girl is hard-- you have to be skinny, attractive, put-together, well dressed, etc. Society teaches girls through media and the beauty industry that they need to be perfect," PrincessKlepto says. "I'm sick of handing my money over to corporations that profit on this bullshit... so if I have to put up with this kind of stuff, I'm certainly not going to pay for it."
Highlights from the article by Omid Safi on the On Being Project, published November 6th, 2016.
When did we forget that we are human beings, not human doings?
In Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they're doing, you ask: in Arabic, Kyf haal-ik? or, in Persian, Haal-e shomaa chetoreh? How is your haal? What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one's heart. In reality, we ask, "How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?" When I ask, "How are you?" that is really what I want to know. I am not asking how many items are on your to-do list, nor asking how many items are in your inbox. I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch.
I am always a prisoner of hope.
Let us insist on a type of human-to-human connection where when one of us responds by saying, "I am just so busy," we can follow up by saying, "I know, love. We all are. But I want to know how your heart is doing."
