1. Happy birthday, Marcel. 

    Happy birthday, Marcel. 

     
  2. There are moments when a kind of clarity comes over you, and suddenly you can see through the walls to another dimension that you’d forgotten or chosen to ignore in order to continue living with the various illusions that make life, particularly life with other people, possible.
    — 

    Nicole Krauss, Great House

    Knocked out the start of this novel at the park today. Not too bad at all. 

     
  3. To achieve accurate knowledge of others, if such a thing were possible, we could only ever arrive at it through the slow and unsure recognition of our own initial optical inaccuracies. However, such knowledge is not possible: for, while our vision of others is being adjusted, they, who are not made of mere brute matter, are also changing; we think we have managed to see them more clearly, but they shift; and when we believe we have them fully in focus, it is merely our older images of them that we have clarified, but which are themselves already out of date.
    — 

    Marcel ProustIn the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower (via itseasyjusttolookaway)

    One day I really want to reread all of In Search of Lost Time

     
  4. Gould had been at a dinner party at the apartment of a friend who lives in the same Brooklyn Heights building as Dunham, and the TV phenom crashed it. “She brought her boyfriend, and they engaged in elaborate PDA,” Gould says. “Lena was very nice and charming, and I was so flattered she even knew who I was.” Dunham invited Gould and the other guests to see her elegant prewar apartment—“Of course we were all like, Yes!”—showing them her shoes, the headboard her Girls set designer had given her. Perhaps in part because Dunham’s one-bedroom was within the realm of realistic aspiration, her life sparked creeper-envy in Gould. “I thought I was fine, and I came home and I was kind of fucked up about it for a week,” she says. “I’d been at the forefront of something—I don’t know what to call it. So then to see those people become prominent and successful in a moment when I’m just temping and trying to finish this novel—and I sold [the book], so I’m okay; I’m getting by. But I, like, sold a bunch of clothes to Buffalo Exchange to buy groceries so I could make dinner for my friends.”
    — Of course I read this entire Emily Gould profile
     
  5. I love Portnoy’s Complaint. 

    I love Portnoy’s Complaint. 

     
  6. She left with Henri-Jean, who shrugged as they passed Burdmoore. A mime’s shrug. Life is sweet, I’m a helpless neuter. Whimsy is the answer to tears. I’m going to fuck your girlfriend here shortly. Shrug.
    — 

    Rachel Kushner, The Flamethrowers

    Less than 100 pages left in this now. I’ll be sure to knock it out within the next two to three days if I read it. The book club I’m in is supposed to read to chat about it Sunday evening, assuming that doesn’t all fall apart due to the complicated reasons that may derail it. Oh, and I forgot to eat dinner again tonight. Oops. Is a giant cookie dinner? 

     
  7. RIP, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
     
  8. image: Download

    Vastly underestimated the number of boxes I’ll need to move my books to the new place

    Vastly underestimated the number of boxes I’ll need to move my books to the new place

     
  9. He stood next to Sandro and gazed at the photo, angling his head to match Sandro’s, as if Sandro’s perspective might afford Ronnie some alternative or deepened view.

    "I don’t know," Ronnie said. "Could be actual love. I’m starting to think so. Because I’m using all the levers to suppress what puts me off about her."

    Sandro laughed. “If it was love, Ronnie, you wouldn’t be aware you were doing that,” he said, and pulled me toward him.

    "I’m always aware," Ronnie said. "That’s why it never works out."

    — 

    Rachel Kushner, The Flamethrowers

    I knocked out another 50 pages or so of this novel today while out at Qualia for a cup of coffee. 

     
  10. People who are harder to love pose a challenge, and the challenge makes them easier to love. You’re driven to love them. People who want their love easy don’t really want love.
    — 

    Rachel Kushner, The Flamethrowers

    Knocked out the first 100 pages of this novel over the weekend, partly for the book club (which I now may or may not be in? Long story) and mostly for myself. I was the one that essentially made the book club read this. So far I’m pretty satisfied with the book. It’s got a real smooth style to it, very assured, great moody tone.