1. RIP, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
  2. 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

  3. 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. 

  4. 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. 

  5. Tuesday was George Plimpton’s birthday. It’s been 11 years since he died now. 

  6. You are not particularly attracted to Elaine, who’s too hard-edged in your view. You do not even think she is a particularly nice person. Yet you have this desire to prove that you can have as good a time as anyone, that you can be one of the crowd. Objectively, you know that Elaine is desirable, and you feel obligated to desire her. It seems to be your duty to go through the motions. You keep thinking that with practice you will eventually get the knack of enjoying superficial encounters, that you will stop looking for the universal solvent, stop grieving. You will learn to compound happiness out of small increments of mindless pleasure.

    Jay McInerney, Bright Lights, Big City

    I reread the first 100 pages or so without intending to in the last day or so. It’s my friend Scott’s copy, actually, passed my way what has now become years ago, somehow. It’s a compulsively readable book and one of the few successful attempts at the second person I’ve seen. And often truly funny. 

  7. Book club is turning out to be a surprisingly good life development. Or I think? Yes. 

  8. 10:57

    Notes: 309

    Reblogged from theparisreview

    Tags: William S. BurroughsNaked Lunchlit


    Listen to William S. Burroughs read his novel Naked Lunch.

    Classic St. Louisan, good book.

  9. Obstinacy, not talent, saved my life. It was also my good luck that happiness didn’t matter to me and I had no compassion for myself. Though why such a task should have fallen to me I have no idea. Maybe writing protected me against even worse menace.
    — Roth
  10. If I decided to send all this to you, where would I send it? When I think of writing the whole address on the envelope I am paralyzed. It’s too painful to think of you in the same place with your life going on in the same way, minus me. And to think of you not there, you somewhere else but I don’t know where, is worse.

    Alice Munro, The Love of a Good Woman

    I recently read this Munro short story all in the form of these letters a woman is writing to a man she usually just refers to as R. I always am a sucker for a good, long letter-writing. That’s a lost form in so many ways. There’s so much more space for pause and reflection and honest thoughtfulness, or potentially. Herzog was always so great for that reason.