Scott > Recent Status Updates

The sun finally gave up and turnt its back on the sun. Fuck you, went the sun. Fuck all y'all, you skanky freaks don't deserve no sunlight. Find another star.

can't ... go ... on ...

Oh, Lord! The footnotes have footnotes.

I am reading it.

Hypercerebral characters talk past each other in abstract tangents. They are less characters than instruments for the expression of DeLillo's observations on modern human existence. What makes it work is DeLillo's masterful and sometimes visionary prose.

I'm not surprised this book was blurbed by Marilynne Robinson.

The war between the Horologists and the Anchorites of the Chapel of the Dusk of the Blind Cathar of the Thomasite Order of Sidelhorn Pass is really heating up.

It gets better.

dogs and angels are not / very different.

The first 40 pages read more like Black Swan Green than Cloud Atlas. Will I make it through 600 more?

On page 50, Lutek, the young narrator's partner in crime in the increasingly oppressive Warsaw Ghetto, asks, "What do you think this is, a show?" It feels like a very carefully placed admonition by the author to the reader.

"Let the Tsar jig on his polished floor. I s--t my death on him." p. 269

There were things you just had to respect, and that knife was one of them.... Maybe twenty people had owned that knife and only one or two had done any hurt with it. A wound can't scar a knife. A knife can't weary with the use that's been made of it. Still.

Maybe next month...

Maybe next may month...