Status Updates From Milkbottle H

On one corner of 33rd and Lehigh knifehaired boys with rolledup muscles shuffle and shock and shinny around an icecream store with sidewalk tables in barbershop colors, and girls in candy skirts and lustresmeared legs jabber chips of tit and snuggles of spitspangled mouth into the scars of bluegold air left from the moving bites of the males, the icecream cones in melting white huts, and raspberry and orange and . .

"Milkbottle H forces the reader to learn how to read all over again." -- From another GR reviewer.

How true.

stumbling disoriented about a blackened room waiting for my eyes to adjust . . . my reading brain adjusting recalibrating during the first 100 pages of MILKBOTTLE H . . . I'm reading it like I imagine he wrote it, in nonstop bursts of energy . . . the prose carries me along, no chance to step off - what to compare it to? Joyce? no, won't play that game here. Original. . . he really can keep this up for 500 pages?

An explosion of words . . . formless? That's the reader's job. Endless rush of prose . . . time expands contracts . . . intoxicating, bewildering. So many words to describe this, and they all escape me . . . uncontainable.

Unapologetically expressive of the author’s unique genius.

He blinks rapidly, as if to blink his nose away, which occupies most of his phiz; a nose something like the sideview of a peeling axe splotched by pale orange freckles; the rest of his face seems to shrink away, hide, run quickly away from the nose; even the puffy eyes have tried to be unobtrusive by way of their watery pale grey, by their dimming and squint, not wanting to discern the nose

Sure, but no burn. I cant burn, thats the truth of it. Because Im softening. My bones Lee, my bones. Ever hear of decalcification? Well, nodding his chin up and down, the grim soft chiding light of his blue eyes leaping and frolicking over Timmy Lascar, Im losing the calcium. Oh its slow. Itll take another twentyfive years sure, but in time Ill just be a heap of jelly, nothing more, Keep it under your hat

Wow. Finishing this is like not leaving the house for months and then going to the supermarket to try do the food shopping when you can’t feel your legs and have no spatial awareness (speaking from experience here).

I’ll write up my review of this once I take a shower and get over those last 50 pages.

Somehow, this has a real heavy rhythm to it that draws me to keep reading.