I review stuff and sometimes I get it for free and sometimes I pay for it.
goddamnit and fuck.why do talented people do this shit and worthless shit artists never do?i don't mean to be uncaring about human life, but seriously, fucking fuck fuck.
I've laughed at various things tonight, but i keep coming back to this, trying to find some kind of clue, any kind of clue, why. I think that's what we all look for in suicide: why? I mean, you're suffering, you're living a life of pain and you have an incurable disease, all right, fine. What is the back story here?In part, I think to myself, no one is accountable to me. DFW has nothing to explain to me. Nothing. Let's get that straight. I don't think anyone owes me anything.At the same time, I can't help feeling there has to be some kind of feeling of obligation to your fans. Some need to explain to the people who live on your words, in words, what it all means.
I think perhaps one of my favorite professionally published reviews was of his last book of essays, "Consider the Lobster."I certainly shall miss him deeply. Damn and fuck and hell and I wish I had enough profanity for how I'm feeling right now.
wow. that's shocking. i hadn't heard. spent today without elecricity due to storms this morning. wow. that was unexpected.
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