Sunday morning Pitchfork retweeted a 2015 article about Mark Linkous so Sunday morning's soundtrack was Sparklehorse. I posted these four songs on Twuuter. If Twuuter stats aren't uber bullshit, no one clicked one. The fuck. I think my gods are good gods and want them to save you too, I'm a fucking evangelist. Effmee.
- Donnie and the Detectives. Exhausting, it's so exhaustive.
- Maggie's weekly links.
- { feuilleton }'s weekly links features a Popovic.
- Sorrentino the realist.
- On reading novels. I am telling you three times: I have not been able to read any novel since finishing Vollmann's Dying Grass more than a month ago. I started/quit two, finished one, I'd need get up and go find them to remember their names and no doubt fuck that. I'm in the middle of Joshua Cohen's new novel - I'd have to get up from my dining room table and walk five feet to my backpack to get the title. I think the main character's name is David.
- OK, the above bullet written Sunday morning, it's Monday morning as I type this one, the Cohen is abandoned. I'll share the blame with Cohen - his novel is at fault too (though I don't trust me), even with my bad eyes and bad eye's soul.
- I reread Coover's1996 Origin of the Brunists in 2013 to prepare for his sequel Brunist Day of Wrath in 2014. Tried then, failed. Started yesterday because I found it looking for something else; sometimes that works.
- Jinxeffmee. Jinxmeeeff. Meeeffjinx. Meejinxeff. Effjinxmee. Effmeejinx.
- I did reread yesterday C.D.Wright's book of poems Rising, Falling, Hovering. Must be my dozenth time through. If you ask nice and I like you let me get you a copy. The poem below is from the volume.
- Thank you, I don't think I need a smart phone app to tell me my cats' emotions, and I really don't need photos of sheep in pain.
- On Glenn Gould.
- More Sparklehorse here.
