weequizzie

“I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, “I’m going to pee…”, hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking; talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always carrying on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side and her doing the same; sleeping together.”
— Charles Bukowski (Women)

“So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.” – Roald Dahl

I never knew he wrote a poem about her.

Carson McCullers by Charles Bukowski

she died of alcoholism
wrapped in a blanket
on a deck chair
on an ocean
steamer.

all her books of
terrified loneliness

all her books about
the cruelty
of loveless love

were all that was left
of her

as the strolling vacationer
discovered her body

notified the captain

and she was quickly dispatched
to somewhere else
on the ship

as everything
continued just
as
she had written it

I read books. I bet you do too. At least I hope you do. I hope everyone does as they’re completely essential in creating the pictures your brain makes inside your head, and the words that get pushed out of your mouth. Words are THE SHIT. I know what a chifferobe is because I read ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. I know that fanny pads used to have belts because I read Judy Blume. It’s the small things… Judy Blume also taught me about lox and blinis – there wasn’t much of either in N Ireland.

So, I’m writing some very thoughtful reviews on Goodreads. Here’s my most recent on Tom McCarthy’s ‘The Remainder’:

Hello, is that Borges? Hi, it’s me Tom. Listen, I wrote this book and I think you’ll like it, it’s a bit fucked up and stuff but totally legit. Would you mind reading it and giving me some feedback? Kind regards, Tom McC.

Hi, this is Borges. Tom, your stuff is good but don’t beat your reader over the head with your authenticity trip. They get it. They’re pretty smart so stop punching them in the face with the same old same old. Also, if you’d lost about a 100 pages I would have liked it much more. Better luck next time and holler if you need a decent editor, I know some good people, all my love, Mr Borges.

No, but seriously, I know I’ve said it before but I’m going to do it this year. I am. Pinky swear.

So, it’s the 11th day into 2011 and I’ve already consumed six perfect bound wonders of words. Or wonderless. Wonderless isn’t a word, I know that. Well, it is but it’s not REAL and we’re all so hyper effing concerned about what is REAL.

So, six in 11 days. My goal is 52 this year, I’m pretty sure I can do it. If I proceed at the current rate I’ll have digested over 150. All those words swimming around getting tangled up in ramen noodles. Fun.

Six so far (in order of reading):

After Dark – Murakami: Typical Murakami, the reader does all the work, the writer counts his dough. Nah, that’s harsh, I like a bit of Murakami. It’s readable.
Hollywood – Charles Bukowski: Old Hank dropped a stinker with this one, but then he really was after the dough. It’s the story of him writing the screenplay for ‘Barfly’. It’s quiet and keeps it’s knickers on.
So The Wind Won't Blow It All Away – Richard Brautigan: This is beautiful in a way that I can’t quite work out yet. People bemoan what they view as whimsy in Brautigan, I don’t think it’s whimsy, I think it’s hard and true, and sometimes his pencil slips into the margin and he makes a little note. That’s what Brautigan does – he likes to show the reader the notes in the margin. Nothing wrong with that. I’m going to read more.
The Safety of Objects – A.M. Homes: Homes rules. That’s all anyone needs to know. No, what you need to know is that she is possibly the best short story writer ever. Well, the best with a vagina. I still need to read some Joyce Carol Oates so I may retract this, and yes, I’m including Flannery O’Connor. She could write lyrics for ‘The National’ and they’d be better.
Imperial Bedrooms – Bret Easton Ellis: Imperial Bedrooms is BEE wanking whilst lying in bed counting his dough. It was so bad that I tried to come up with excuses for it, then I thought, nope, it’s utter shite.
Wetlands – Charlotte Roche: This is a sort of sweet book about vaginas and periods and scabs and bums but ultimately it’s dull and won’t add anything to your life, or your day. Read it in the bath and then let the book fall in once you’ve finished. You’ll feel better about reading it after that, I know I did.

And now I’m onto Remainder by Tom McCarthy. This has been on my list for moons but I resisted because I have high hopes. Don’t let me down, or there’ll be a bath full of books come July.

I’m tracking all the words I’m eating at goodreads.

How amazing. A cut-up you can hold in your hands. Burroughs would be happy.

You can buy it here.

Tree of Codes by Jonathan Safran Foer – Public Reactions from Visual Editions on Vimeo.

So, what’s on my wordy wishlist. Too many books that will never get read? Likely, but let’s be positive. The words are falling away and in their place a glowing screen and fast typing fingers, with eyes that sink into stuff (stuff = dresses, videos about dogs, bread recipes, too high heels to walk in, vintage clothes from Utah that I cannot afford, knitting patterns that I will never knit, polaroid film I will never buy, vinyl wishlists that grow out of control) like eating unnecessary cake, or cherry fudge that you don’t really like but you bought it in Devon and it’s better you eat it than the house mouse. Right? Wrong. Let’s break some spines and stuff the words into our eyes – more pixels to make the picture clearer.

Top of the reading list:

Reality Hunger: A Manifesto – David Shields

The Learners – Chip Kidd

Remainder – Tom McCarthy

Calvin and Hobbes – I know, I'm a dick

If anyone has any recs please send them my way. Please. Pleeeeeeeeease. My big loves include: Amy Hempel, Bukowski, Hemingway, Vonnegut, Millhauser, Junot Díaz, Beckett, McCullers etc.

Came across this via Elle and now I want the poster and the vinyl. It’s like in came out of my head, but not.

Underwood is a twice-yearly publication produced as a vinyl LP featuring two writers. The journal appears in May and November each year and is a limited edition. Born out of a love for short stories and vinyl records, Underwood works with writers to produce a unique recording.

The name Underwood is taken from the typewriter invented by Frank Wagner in 1896.

I wish this wasn’t sold out.