My biggest problem with reading non-fiction is after ten minutes I'm thinking about the novel I could be reading, like The Sot-Weed Factor, which HOLYFUCK! turned 50! this year. All schtick aside, it is one of the five most influential novels (Giles Goat-boy is in the second ten) on how I read and write and think.
It's about nothing less than the battle between naive but noble innocence and cynical but profitable experience, how naivety is pounded out, then innocence, then nobility, with casual whisks of experience's hand. We are all Ebenezor Cookes with our own Joan Toasts. An astonishingly funny novel.
Which is to say, yesterday I briefly contemplated suggesting a group reading of the Jensen that generated a good comment thread, but after ten minutes of reading the Jensen - I'm experienced enough to at least try the non-fiction book before committing to reading it - I was thinking about Frolic's Oscar Crease, then after finding the Sotweed link thinking of no one but Henry Burlingame.
For forty-five seconds late yesterday afternoon I contemplated suggesting a group reading of The Sot-Weed Factor, but don't worry, mofos, fuck that too.
- Manifesto of the Garden Party.
- The fall of Obama.
- Defending the indefensible.
- Myth of American democracy.
- Deficits of mass destruction.
- On Krugman's pitchforks.
- And the Democrats and Obama will deserve all of it.
- On religion and goat-fucking.
- On straight, white, fat-assed men.
- Social media and the architecture of anomie.
- Time, history, power.
- What she knows.
- Teacher for a day. I know teachers. Pay them more, hassle them less.
- Letter to a daughter.
- Don't forget who capital gave the weapons to:
- Washington earthquake destruction.
- Kensington! I've told this before, but though my mailing address is Kensington, I don't actually live in incorporated Kensington. The other side of the street I live on has Bethesda as its mailing address, meaning my house, if on the other side of the road, would be worth $25K more than it is on my side.
- Purple Line!
- Tactical mistake.
- FIFA's foul play.
- Tolstoy leaves home.
- Three Bettie Serveert songs.
- I'm still in love with this song.
- Can't exist.
- Nothing is better than this.
- Slide away.
- Woke up down.
- Even though.
- Honey and the moon.
The horns of elfland swing past, and in a few seconds
so we stay indoors. The quest was only another adventure
The people are beside themselves with rapture
When all we think of is how much we can carry with us
Now, silently as one mounts a stair we emerge into the open
Only night knows for sure; the secret is safe with her.
You mop your forehead with a rose, recommending its thorns.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of
only night knows for sure. The secret is safe with her:
The people, then, knew what they wanted and how to get it.