July 29, 2015 The new living embodiment of the relentless anti-intellectual debasement of the literary Arts has stolen the crown from talentless word-processing juggernaut Haruki Murakami: Karl Ove Knausgaard, claim your crown and sceptre! I haven’t read duller, more vacuous, more will-sapping prose in a very, very long time…!  Comments Share Edmond Caldwell I keep putting off my engagement with that tome . . . now I know the reason!   Steven Seven Augustine Oh, but it’s a MUST, Comrade. A must. Laugh.   Steven Seven Augustine (makes Paul Auster look like Milan Kundera in comparison)   Ed Ward I … Continue reading A BRIEF LITERARY CONVERSATION WITH TWO NOW-DEAD FRIENDS, EDMOND and EDMUND

Three or four years ago (when I was still recording in that last recording studio),  he said, I was walking great distances every day to burn off the chocolate sticks I was eating during every session in the studio. The chocolate sticks were the only things I could eat that wouldn’t leave me feeling too bloated to sing (well, I guess fruit would have worked but fruit in a recording studio…?). Anyway, this was on a day between sessions,  a “day off,” during winter… a very, very cold (Thunberg-mockingly so)  winter. Foolishly,  as a fool is liable to do things, … Continue reading the time he made it just in time but didn’t: a parable