I have been ill for the last few days, but I am now in tip-top shape and ready to return to the world of knocking all of your socks--maybe even more of your clothing and accessories than that, maybe a fob or brooch as well--right the hell off with my witty and urbane observations about eating cheap food.
What the fuck did I do during this mercifully cool and very rainy downtime? I:
Read Paul Auster's New York Trilogy, during which I closed the book several times and just sat there staring at it because I couldn't believe how...bold (yes, that's a typographic pun) it was. Nonchalantly yet staggeringly audacious (is there a font style for that)? It just made me realize how philosophically easy the postmodern ironicism of the Eggers, DFW, Leyner, etc. crew is. New York Trilogy is really the first book I've read in a long time that I just couldn't believe I was reading. And it's 25 years old!
This is an often-NSFW, mostly gluten-free kitchen notebook that also occasionally threatens to turn into something else and fails, thus remaining its same old cryptic and superficial self. These posts begin to fail to explain (start at the bottom).
Reboot the Blog, Recalibrate the Palate
A period of neglect. Dormancy. Slackness. Call it what you will. This miniscule corner of the web still has some life. I'd like to make it sputter again from...