“My narrators aren’t English professors, and I don’t want them to sound like they are.”

Someone Who Really Needn’t Worry About That (via thenotes)

Something I have not yet figured out how to explain or write about in a way that will be either purgative or cathartic is how much I hate Brett Easton Ellis.

(Source: theparisreview)


I wanted to pray, when I became aware of a bewildering rustling. Persons whom I knew to be gentle were distorted into the wildest caricatures. Heads moved along on crickets’ legs attached to their ears and sneered at me. Strange fowl - ravens with human faces - whirled in the air. I recognized the concettmaster from B. with his sister, to danced madly to a waltz which her brother played on his chest, which served as a violin. Belcampo, with an ugly lizard’s face and mounted on a ghastly winged worm, violently approached me and wanted to comb my beard with a red hot iron comb…”

- E.T.A. Hoffmann


encaustic tests, 2012

Hey everybody.  I’m getting back on the internet.  I’ll write a big long post about life at some point soon.  For now I’m just trying to figure out how the hell to use tumblr and wordpress and all of these other things.  I feel like things were a lot easier to understand when it was just filezilla, notepad and me.  

Take note, friends. A genuine rebirthing is a rare thing to behold.

Q: The king is dead. Do you suspend his head from the ceiling and bury his body beneath the floorboards so that his heart might float at eye level?

A: Get in the fucking robot.



“the wasted time walking around the bookstore”

“the wasted time walking around the bookstore”

“the wasted time walking around the bookstore”

f u

yesterday i had a three-hour long conversation about the rise of netflix/amazon as media distribution conglomerates and whether we’d ever see them turn into some sort of InterLace Video model. in the next 10 years, the physical book will be bounded only by Print-on-Demand machines. bookstores will serve only a niche clientele who still want the book because they’re uncomfortable reading on tablets or personal computers. it’s no small surprise to the publishing industry that the models of distribution are rapidly changing, but amazon and, to some extent, the individual houses are trying to preserve as much of the current models as they can. it’s a real pity that so many people these days would rather buy a book for $4 on their e-reader rather than take the wasted time they’d spend updating the software of their technology just to be able to read the new janet evanovich or whatever and go out and support their local independent bookstores.  but hey, people are still reading regardless of the medium, and that’s pretty okay. 

it would be interesting to see a subscription model like with netflix and HBOgo arise in the book world; $300 a year for instant access to new and backlist titles, or pay by month. there are economical ways to shift the trend of e-reading back to the physical book, but it’s really futile. 

at least i can say that at no point in my life will i ever disregard the physical book for a digital copy, unless i had no choice but to do so. it’ll be a sad day, but it’s imminent, and as long as good authors are putting out good books, somebody’s doing something right.

“The reader’s been left behind. Everybody talks about the writer’s feeling and the writer’s expression and the writer’s experience, and, you know, I don’t give a fuck how the writer feels. I want a fucking book that I can be in love with. I want a book that I’ll reread seventeen times. That’s what I want. And that has nothing to do with how I fucking feel. If I cared about how I felt I wouldn’t have written this fucking book in the first place. It was too hard to write. I needed the money or I wouldn’t have done it. Swear to God, I would not write these books if they didn’t pay me. But that said, once I’m committed to it and once I’m going to put my name on it, I feel like I ought to try not to bore the dog fuck out of people. If people are nice enough to buy my book, it’s like, let’s just try not to make them pitch forward with boredom. I’m so sick of reading boring books.”

What you seek in vain for, half your life, one day you come full upon, all the family at dinner. You seek it like a dream, and as soon as you find it you become it’s prey.

 - Thoreau, to Emerson


When his one-eyed mother bathed him in a washtub, the child Hans Reiter always slipped from her soapy hands and sank to the bottom, with his eyes open, and if her hands hadn’t lifted him back up to the surface he would have stayed there, contemplating the black wood and the black water where little particles of his own filth floated, tiny bits of skin that traveled like submarines toward an inlet the size of an eye, a calm, dark cove, although there was no calm, and all that existed was movement, which is the mask of many things, calm among them.

- Roberto Bolano

A Little Fable

"Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into."

"You only need to change your direction," said the cat, and ate it up.

- Franz Kafka

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