Sporadic Thrashings and Brain Spasms
― The other day I paid full price for a book. The lady at the counter snapped at me because I hadn’t understood that two people standing far apart can still form a line of commerce. ∙ I run my fingers over the book. They are making books out of some smooth expensive material these days. A row of Steinbeck with modernized hyper-sexy covers sits perfectly behind me as I hunch down to the Palahniuk’s. You can hardly tell that James Joyce is not alive and well by the slick fonts on Ulysses. [...].
