"Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream"
BY JOAN DIDION [From Slouching Toward Bethlehem. Originally appeared in The Saturday Evening Post as ”How Can I Tell Them There’s Nothing Left,” 1966.] This is a story about love and death in the golden land, and begins with the country. The San Bernardino Valley lies only an hour east of Los Angeles by way of the San Bernardino Freeway but is in certain ways an alien...
Corporations are getting better and better at seducing us into thinking the way...– David Foster Wallace, The Pale King
Decision Fatigue (sheeeeeeeit) →
We worry, grow weary, lose. People die, get sick, go broke. The world turns on...– T. Midgett, from a blog post, of all things
Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery/ Mistake your shyness for...– Dylan, Groom’s Still Waiting at the Altar
I should say a little more about this, about not writing. A lot of people ask me...– Jaime Gil de Biedma on Not Writing (via DCB)
Before setting out on a lengthy expedition I always have the same lunch which...– Charlie Mortdecai, “Don’t Point That Thing At Me,” p. 66 by Kyril Bonfiglioli
Subterranean City →
The School of Rembrandt
The last I checked, the river still rose. It is transition season in the heart of it all and thunderheads are waging a suicide front. Lightning always aims for the tallest target which is us, a mile a minute on a paid-mile road. I clutch gray like the last raft to the mainland. I snap photographs into dusk, toward a city that juts quick from an interruption of land’s original phase. The...