Blessed Are The Moments of Clarity; OR, Hooray for Breakthroughs!

RRRRRAAAAAHHHHRRRRRSometimes writing is a drag, and sometimes the mind gets sticky.

And sometimes, everything just fucking clicks!

Excuse my language… it just farted.

And all the time, the mind isn’t to be mistaken for the brain, except for those times we mistake the mind for the brain. In those instances, I suppose they can be the same thing. It is what you make it, right? At least that’s what Descartes would say, I think.

John Updike once said that he wasn’t smart enough to write crime novels.

Continue reading


An Examination on the Fallacy of Confidence: or, The Anatomy of Suck

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!I make noise.

Then, I fall silent.

Screams followed by whatever we call the opposite of thunder.

The opposite of thunder followed by the collective bombilation of a thousand Beliebers mating with a thousand Directioners upon the announcement of an upcoming √úberconcert between the pubescent powerhouses.

Author Note: In no way am I championing the hypothetical sexual union of two-thousand teenage girls. Unless they are nineteen. Eighteen borders on pervy. Oh, and I looked up the word “bombilation.”

Am I making a point here?

No, really. That isn’t a rhetorical question. Continue reading

A Trinket of Wisdom and Humility from David Baldacci: Or, Romancing Genius…

RRRRRAAAAAHHHHRRRRRIn recent months, I have been romancing geniuses; Nabokov, Nietzsche, Hemingway, Chabon, et cetera.

And by romancing, I mean in the way a pimply, freshly-pubescent boy attempts to romance his first real girlfriend: clumsily; shamefully; inadequately, with absent confidence, shifting eyes and fumbling fingers.

And by geniuses, I mean geniuses; their brilliance stampedes from the pages and declares war — annihilation, even — on one’s cognition. Some brilliant minds have the capacity and talent to, with one sentence, shift an entire lifetime worth of paradigms and semi-formed truths; with one book, make wise men kneel eternally at the altar of their wisdom.

Some brilliant minds are made for that. Some brilliant minds are not.

David Baldacci may fall amongst the ranks of the latter. Continue reading

The Virgin Suicides: Or, An Homage to Hindsight

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!  At the risk of self-aggrandizement, I must publicly confess myself to be a blasphemer.

A blasphemer of true self.

An intellectual infidel

A heretic against my own heart.

My crime? Defiance of the laws loosely transcribed by an institution of one.

Or, in other words, I stopped being true to myself. Continue reading

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