April 12, 2014

When she goes to bed, which is earlier and earlier now, he stays up at the computer. He checks the weather, reads an online tabloid, and plays backgammon with someone who says he’s a retiree. Who wins is an open issue, and shortly after midnight the retiree logs off. So then he surfs around, visiting a variety of websites, these days thinking about things he hasn’t thought about since he was a child. People who can predict things. Clocks that stop when someone dies. Calves with two heads, and women who kill people. The latter is an anomaly, and yet he has noticed that perpetrators in TV crime shows are most often women. He knows it’s a technical thing: a desire to surprise the viewer.

Dorthe Nors, “Female Killers”

April 12, 2014

'I find him more disgusting every day. He's drunk by ten in the morning, and every evening I get a pasting because some customer has been giving me the eye, or for any old thing. Shall I tell you what? I wish he'd die.'

'That'll happen.'

'Yes, but when?'

Pascal Garnier, The A26

April 12, 2014

But fun for me was sneaking off to peer into a tidal pool, to grasp the intricacies of the creatures that lived there. Sustenance for me was tied to ecosystem and habitat, orgasm the sudden realization of the interconnectivity of living things. Observation had always meant more to me than interaction. He knew all of this, I think. But I never could express myself that well to him, although I did try, and he did listen. And yet, I was nothing but expression in other ways. My sole gift or talent, I believe now, was that places could impress themselves upon me, and I could become a part of them with ease. Even a bar was a type of ecosystem, if a crude one, and to someone entering, someone without my husband’s agenda, that person could have seen me sitting there and had no trouble imagining that I was happy in my little bubble of silence. Would have had no trouble believing I fit in.

Jeff VanderMeer, Annihilation

April 12, 2014

April 9-10, 2014

April 11, 2014
Walter Kirn /// Blood Will Out
Satisfyingly macabre, if a little too in love with its own themes.

Walter Kirn /// Blood Will Out

Satisfyingly macabre, if a little too in love with its own themes.

April 10, 2014

Oh hey this band.

(Source: Spotify)

April 8, 2014
Curzio Malaparte /// The Skin
In my two decades of reading books about World War II, this may be the only one that truly shocked me … all the rest concern narrow forms of victimhood and villainy, survival and savagery, but Malaparte’s account of a conquered people lies outside of time: while its dialogue has the morbid zip of Catch-22, the set pieces evoke millennia of cold European dread, reaching back to antiquity in their scope. (I had to stop and check whether Vesuvius really erupted in 1944, which, surreally enough, it had.) But the most taboo aspect would be the implication, unspeakable in our own age, that this gruesome, mechanized conflict was no different from any other—just more famous.  

Curzio Malaparte /// The Skin

In my two decades of reading books about World War II, this may be the only one that truly shocked me … all the rest concern narrow forms of victimhood and villainy, survival and savagery, but Malaparte’s account of a conquered people lies outside of time: while its dialogue has the morbid zip of Catch-22, the set pieces evoke millennia of cold European dread, reaching back to antiquity in their scope. (I had to stop and check whether Vesuvius really erupted in 1944, which, surreally enough, it had.) But the most taboo aspect would be the implication, unspeakable in our own age, that this gruesome, mechanized conflict was no different from any other—just more famous.  

April 8, 2014

The tasteful thickness of it.

April 7, 2014
Jason, I Killed Adolf Hitler

Jason, I Killed Adolf Hitler

April 7, 2014

Fun things aside, what I learned by traveling to the deep south? Humankind has no dominion over it. We were warned about bobcats and a twelve-foot gator “back in them woods.” The fish just take your bait and swim off. A bird of prey swooped down on our car that had a wingspan twice my height. I was attacked by waves of fire ants and some kind of mutant wasp with a pendulous abdomen. We saw an enormous grasshopper that, when I heard it rustling in long grass, I took for a small mammal. Someone gave it a stiff nudge, to make it fly, and it didn’t bother to move: Either eat me or fuck off.