Max Eichelberger

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The Road to the City
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Voices of the Fal...
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Testing the Current
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See all 9 books that Max is reading…
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Roberto Bolaño
“According to Padilla, remembered Amalfitano, all literature could be classified as heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual. Novels, in general, were heterosexual. Poetry, on the other hand, was completely homosexual. Within the vast ocean of poetry he identified various currents: faggots, queers, sissies, freaks, butches, fairies, nymphs, and philenes. But the two major currents were faggots and queers. Walt Whitman, for example, was a faggot poet. Pablo Neruda, a queer. William Blake was definitely a faggot. Octavio Paz was a queer. Borges was a philene, or in other words he might be a faggot one minute and simply asexual the next.”
Roberto Bolaño, Woes of the True Policeman

Guy Debord
“Just as early industrial capitalism moved the focus of existence from being to having, post-industrial culture has moved that focus from having to appearing.”
Guy Debord, The Society of the Spectacle

William Gaddis
“Go out among them and tell them that their nostalgia for places they have never been is sex,”
William Gaddis, The Recognitions

Samuel Beckett
“What I need now is stories, it took me a long time to know that, and I'm not sure of it.”
Samuel Beckett, Molloy

Joan Didion
“I tell you this not as aimless revelation but because I want you to know, as you read me, precisely who I am and where I am and what is on my mind. I want you to understand exactly what you are getting: you are getting a woman who for some time now has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest people. You are getting a woman who somewhere along the line misplaced whatever slight faith she ever had in the social contract, in the meliorative principle, in the whole grand pattern of human endeavor. Quite often during the past several years I have felt myself a sleepwalker, moving through the world unconscious of the moment’s high issues, oblivious to its data, alert only to the stuff of bad dreams, the children burning in the locked car in the supermarket parking lot, the bike boys stripping down stolen cars on the captive cripple’s ranch, the freeway sniper who feels “real bad” about picking off the family of five, the hustlers, the insane, the cunning Okie faces that turn up in military investigations, the sullen lurkers in doorways, the lost children, all the ignorant armies jostling in the night. Acquaintances read The New York Times, and try to tell me the news of the world. I listen to call-in shows.”
Joan Didion, The White Album

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Nicole
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Katie
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Max
Max
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The Letter Killers Club by Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky
Postmodern Genius
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