Over the past seven years I've lived in more places than I can remember. I lived and worked in Shanghai, New York, Berlin, Bangkok, Munich and a few more places, not including the dozens of places I've stayed at for just a few days or weeks.While writing these lines I'm in a small town in Malaysia.I've basically lived out of a backpack for the past seven years. And the longer I'm doing this, the less stuff I need. Right now I carry less than 10 items around with me in a carry on backpack that weighs less than 10kg. I go wherever I want to go. I currently spend less than $800 a month. Including everything. My most precious possession is a $300 Acer laptop.I've started a clothing company in China, for the Chinese market, which failed miserably. I've launched more than 10 websites, some of them made some money, some of them didn't. I shut down all of them. I've written seven books (this is my eighth). None of them was a bestseller. I write a blog where I published more than 500 articles so far. I've more than 100,000 monthly readers spread across multiple platforms.I'm by no means successful. Or rich. But I have more than enough, by all means. I have access to everything I need. And I can buy and afford everything I need.I'm not a minimalist. Or a digital nomad. Or an entrepreneur. Or a blogger. Or an author.I'm mostly trying to just be myself. I'm trying to be myself in a world where it gets harder and harder every single day to just be yourself.It's not always been easy. As a matter of fact it's probably been hard more often than it's been easy. But every day of struggle and doubt has been worth it. Being yourself and creating your own life instead of just living a life is always worth the struggle.This right here is my story. This is what I've learned about life, myself and the world around me.I'm everywhere and nowhere. And I own nothing and everything...

For readers of Heavy, Punch Me Up to The Gods, and A Little Devil in America, a beautiful, painful, and soaring tribute to everything that Black men are and can be. Growing up in the Bronx, Joél Leon was taught that being soft, being vulnerable, could end your life. Shaped by a singular view of Black masculinity espoused by the media, by family and friends, and by society, he learned instead to care about the gold around his neck and the number of bills in his wallet. He absorbed the “facts” that white was always right and Black men were seen as threatening or great for comic relief but never worthy of the opening credits. It wasn’t until years later that Joél understood he didn’t have to be defined by these things. Now, in a collection of wide-ranging essays, he takes readers from his upbringing in the Bronx to his life raising two little girls of his own, unraveling those narratives to arrive at a deeper understanding of who he is as a son, friend, partner, and father. Traversing both the serious and lighthearted, from contemplating male beauty standards and his belly to his decision to seek therapy to the difficulties of making co-parenting work, Joél cracks open his heart to reveal his multitudes. “I learned that being Black is an all-encompassing everything...To be Black, to be a Black man in the era I grew up in, was easily everything and nothing at once.” Crafted like an album, each essay is a single that stands alone yet reverberates throughout the entire collection. Pieces like “How to Make a Black Friend.” consider challenging, delightful and absurd moments in relationships, while others like “Sensitive Thugs All Need Hugs” and “All Gold Everything” ponder the collective harms of society's lens. With incisive, searing prose, Everything and Nothing at Once deconstructs what it means to be a Black man in America.

Prose and poetry tell the multi-narrative story of one pivotal summer during the lives of four interconnected individuals as they grapple with family conflict, friendship, and individuality, with first love and second chances, with impermanence and spirituality, and with the sweeping awareness of mortality.

Learn how the perception of truth has been weaponized in modern politics with this "insightful" account of propaganda in Russia and beyond during the age of disinformation (New York Times). When information is a weapon, every opinion is an act of war. We live in a world of influence operations run amok, where dark ads, psyops, hacks, bots, soft facts, ISIS, Putin, trolls, and Trump seek to shape our very reality. In this surreal atmosphere created to disorient us and undermine our sense of truth, we've lost not only our grip on peace and democracy -- but our very notion of what those words even mean. Peter Pomerantsev takes us to the front lines of the disinformation age, where he meets Twitter revolutionaries and pop-up populists, "behavioral change" salesmen, Jihadi fanboys, Identitarians, truth cops, and many others. Forty years after his dissident parents were pursued by the KGB, Pomerantsev finds the Kremlin re-emerging as a great propaganda power. His research takes him back to Russia -- but the answers he finds there are not what he expected. Blending reportage, family history, and intellectual adventure, This Is Not Propaganda explores how we can reimagine our politics and ourselves when reality seems to be coming apart.

"Some of the most witty, uncannily original short fiction in Western Literature."--The New Yorker

A New York Times Book Review Editor's Choice, this harrowing true story of two young men from Ghana and their quest for asylum highlights not only the unjust political system of their homeland, but the chaos of the United States’ failing immigration system. Long before their chance meeting at a Minneapolis bus station, Ghanaian asylum seekers Seidu Mohammed and Razak Iyal had already crossed half the world in search of a new home. Seidu, who identifies as bisexual, lived under constant threat of exposure and violence in a country where same–sex acts are illegal. Razak’s life was also threatened after corrupt officials contrived to steal his rightful inheritance. Forced to flee their homeland, both men embarked on separate odysseys through the dangerous jungles and bureaucracies of South, Central, and North America. Like generations of asylum seekers before, they presented themselves legally at the U.S. border, hoping for sanctuary. Instead they were imprisoned in private detention facilities, released only after their asylum pleas were denied. Fearful of returning to Ghana, Seidu and Razak saw no choice but to attempt one final border crossing. Their journey north to Canada in the harsh, unforgiving winter proved more tragic than anything they had experienced before. Based on extensive interviews, Joe Meno’s intimate, novelistic account builds upon the international media attention Seidu and Razak’s story has already received, highlighting the harrowing journey of asylum seekers everywhere while adding dimension to one of the greatest humanitarian concerns facing the world.