Archive for the 'blogging' Category

Something to Declare

In this piece from Dick Jones Patteran Pages he responds to a grim physical illness and the prospect of the debilitating effects of powerful immunosuppressants:
And yet, for all my hopes for future endurance, I need powerfully to disengage myself from both past and future as the principal determinants of present functioning. I need to locate [...]



Characters from a bad novel

Go to Otherwise and play around in the archives.
For several weeks she and her brother–she, a 55-year-old woman with a bad right kidney and strangling liver and arthritis in her wrists and thumbs, and brother, a 40-year-old 95-pound retarded man with alopecia and a worrisome white count–had struggled to pack up and carry away the [...]



Tom’s News

Italian conservative leader, Silvio Berlusconi, was asked by a young female voter how she could bridge the poverty gap. His answer was, ‘You should look to marry a millionaire, like my son, or someone who doesn’t have such problems.’
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The Swiss assisted suicide group Dignitas, which was evicted from its flat in Zurich after complaints [...]



Presque vu XXXXVI

Chris Routledge in Guardian Unlimited diagnoses how a really classy writer, like Dashiell Hammett, can make a diversion from their plot lead right to the story’s heart.
The story of Flitcraft is a simple one. A successful real-estate agent, with a happy family life and money in the bank, Flitcraft steps out of the office for [...]






About Writing:

Altogether, I think we ought to read only books that bite and sting us. If the book does not shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? So that it can make us happy, as you put it? Good God, we'd be just as happy if we had no books at all; books that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves. What we need are books that hit us like a most painful misfortune, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, that make us feel as though we had been banished to the woods, far from any human presence, like a suicide. A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us. That is what I believe. Franz Kafka letter to Oskar Pollak January 27, 1904

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