I’m officially another victim of Instagram
[video]
Most confusing lunch break ever.
Fresh graduate from biz school currently slaving away in a bank. This was just bound to happen.
His grief, it’s hinted, is all prospective. He’s mourning the future, not the past. While fondly shampooing his son’s hair, he remembers the day when his own body grew long enough to touch both ends of the bathtub at the same time. ”This is all too much for me,” he thinks, realizing that his son’s day will come, too. For now, Emmett couldn’t be happier, but tomorrow? His is a largely undiscovered species of male American midlife crisis, and one that most novelists wouldn’t know what do with, because its subtle menace is beyond them. Women unconquered and alpine summits unscaled aren’t what’s haunting Emmett. His demon is joy. The man is peaking, he’s hitting his stride — the horror!
I read the book and then I read Kirn’s fabulous (and enlightening) review.
(I always feel a bit guilty when I like a review better than the book it’s about - that happens frequently)
Had the most lovely lunch break last Tuesday, but as the empty bottle of wine suggests, I had quite a lot of alcohol in my body. It hasn’t been easy staying awake that afternoon.
“Throughout my 20s and early 30s — my two-books-per-week years — I did most of my reading at the International House of Pancakes.” — David Sedaris, NYTimes
“I can’t imagine writing, without irony, about people who are happy all the time.” — Ann Beattie, The Art of Fiction No.209, Paris Review 196
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At home for the long weekend, there any amount of eating is allowed.