Literary Criticism is the Highest Form of Fellatio, like Meta-Dicksucking or Something

I was going to write a story today and post it, but I went out to dinner with Felicia instead. Then, I came back and watched the first half of Star Wars Episode 3 with the children, so I didn't get around to it. What I'm going to do instead is post a bunch of the shit I've been reading and talk about it, albeit in a non-canonically educated type of way. Deal.


We all know that Haters are wont to hate, and certainly the internet that I frequent has very strong opinions on Mr. Lin, but I thought that this book was good. I think Lin tried and succeeded in giving an accurate representation of how shitty and hyperbolic relationships can be through a digital medium. I also thought that it was pretty great that he wrote, convincingly, from his own experience and conveyed scenes realistically while abstaining from preachiness about the greatness of his talent, generation, profession, etc.



This was good, but a bit, dated. It was slow paced, but not necessarily in a bad way. It had its powerful moments, but I think it would have been better as three acts and not five, however I tend toward brevity. I will say that he did a masterful job of portraying the individual citizens' reactions to their own mortality. Also, I should have, but didn't see the end coming. How foolish of me.



It's writers like Mr. McCarthy that make you want to curl up and kill yourself after you write anything because you know you'll never be as sparsely beautiful as he is. This was a goddamn stroll down the boardwalk of brutality. He is a master at painting just enough detail into a scene to keep you transfixed with the motherfucker, days and weeks after you read it. You will feel small, like an insignificant, bottom-dwelling, filter feeder after you read this book and realize that you'll never be good. Not fucking ever.


This is the first book I've read by Miranda July and I can say, authoritatively, that she is awesome. Do you know how hard it is to find a woman author who can realistically portray male characters in their writing? DO YOU? It is goddamn near impossible. She rules. I have the feeling that if I knew her in real life, she would be this overarching genius and she would say things that I couldn't immediately place into context and so I'd be quiet and just listen and then, later on when I'd had time to digest her words, I would feel silly that I was so stupid and that she was so smart. BUY THE MOTHERFUCKING BOOK. IF ANYONE NEEDS YOUR MONEY IT IS MIRANDA JULY.



Full disclosure: I only read No Exit, and I only read it because I knew it contained the famous line, "Hell is other people."

I thought the play was good. It was short but Sartre managed to detail the terrible nature of all of us in a small, one act play. Also, I don't like plays, so for me to acknowledge its goodness means it was double good. Doubleplusgood. Oh shut up.