Back Bay Books
I’m almost on page 223. That’s the page that’s supposed to kick this book into hyperdrive. Am I building it up too much? I hope not. But I hear page 223 might cure baldness. And the common cold. And gout. I’m not building it up too much.
It’s been awhile since I posted. I’m reading this book slowly. What’s the point of rushing?
Okay, actually I’ve been feeling so overworked I...
I’m almost on page 223. That’s the page that’s supposed to kick this book into hyperdrive. Am I building it up too much? I hope not. But I hear page 223 might cure baldness. And the common cold. And gout. I’m not building it up too much.
It’s been awhile since I posted. I’m reading this book slowly. What’s the point of rushing?
Okay, actually I’ve been feeling so overworked I...
- 6/24/2011
- by Christopher John Farley
- Speakeasy/Wall Street Journal
See I was born and I will die here
And the seasons never change
Scatter my ashes in the water
The gods have smiled, all hail the new queen
The south will rise again
The Auteurs, The South Will Rise Again (1999)
I call it Brodkey Syndrome. A term deriving from a 1994 newspaper interview with the now-deceased Harold Brodkey—author of famously long-gestating novel The Runaway Soul—in which he recalls how, as a young man, he "lay in Central Park, looking up at the sky, thinking, 'If only I'd been tall.' He got up to walk home, and then remembered that he was."
My most recent example of this odd psychological peccadillo came a couple of days ago when chatting to an acquaintance who runs a profitable small business. This pal has recently returned from a long weekend in San Sebastian, the medium-sized, relatively affluent resort-city in northern Spain,...
And the seasons never change
Scatter my ashes in the water
The gods have smiled, all hail the new queen
The south will rise again
The Auteurs, The South Will Rise Again (1999)
I call it Brodkey Syndrome. A term deriving from a 1994 newspaper interview with the now-deceased Harold Brodkey—author of famously long-gestating novel The Runaway Soul—in which he recalls how, as a young man, he "lay in Central Park, looking up at the sky, thinking, 'If only I'd been tall.' He got up to walk home, and then remembered that he was."
My most recent example of this odd psychological peccadillo came a couple of days ago when chatting to an acquaintance who runs a profitable small business. This pal has recently returned from a long weekend in San Sebastian, the medium-sized, relatively affluent resort-city in northern Spain,...
- 10/28/2009
- MUBI
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