So this link isn’t all that interesting, but I mention it in case you hadn’t realised that Tiger Lit was ‘a thing.’ Hard to say if it’s a genre, but once someone bothers to write a piece about it online it has to be ‘a thing.’ It actually doesn’t even mention the very good book I read recently on tigers, mysteriously named The Tiger by John Vaillant . Nor, for that matter, does it mention the epic The Tiger who Came to Tea, another classic. It’s great that the Internet can have anything filtered into something, I think? Or maybe it’s shit? I guess cute animals have always been cute animals, we just couldn’t see as much of them before?
Outside of the Internet, some things that would otherwise be cast aside as nothing should be made into something. This is a pretty worthwhile cause. Now I know that’s a possibility, I’ve temporarily halted using old books to build an igloo. Which is probably for the best because an igloo made of room temperature paper that stands indoors undoes most of the basic igloo principles. Also, in all honesty so far its construction only consisted of an idea and looking guiltily at my old books on occasion. Win win!
As a lesbian I’m generally alienated from the heterosexual cliché that women love 'bad boys' and instead it is assumed that I dance like Ellen. But when it comes to Will Self, I like to fit quite neatly into the HBO paradigm that even Girls doesn’t negate. He’s a arrogant arsehole, yes, but he’s also a sesquipedalian; an obscure word for lover of obscure words. I’m all for bypassing the thesaurus altogether, Will. Let’s elope.
We’re all a bit tired of talking about the future of publishing, so just listen instead. Being an NPR broadcast there’s fun soundtracking too, including a great ditty about Jane Austen and the Harry Potter theme song, which I’ll proudly admit still sends shivers down my spine.
I haven’t mentioned this for a while, subscribe! It’s one of the most glorious things on the Internet. Stop talking about Girls for five minutes and plagiarise smart ideas in bitesize bursts. There’s a pretty overwhelming back catalogue, so for what it’s worth some of my favourites include Thomas McGuane reading James Salter, Gary Shteyngart reading Adrea Lee and Anne Enright reading John Cheever. Also, if you haven’t already, pick anything that mentions Barthelme.
I struggle to make my reasoning clear when I really like something. If I dislike something it’s easy, I’m all words and sincere looks. So before I succumb to safe, flirty sarcasm: in short, these images tweak something in me, reminding me why I’d never make it as a photographer and that I needn’t be worried that our point-and-shoot digital culture will replace genuine talent.
Ever wondered why you were asked to highlight similes and metaphors at school? Me too. Writing should be so good that it renders any literary tricks unrecognisable. This guy tries to put his finger on what literature is. Not sure that I care, but I know I should, so I read it.
Finally, my sense of self-loathing triggered by my binge-drinking has been alleviated by something other than an Ernest Hemmingway quote. It doesn’t make for the easiest point of justification, but ‘at least I’m not drilling holes in my skull for a rush.’ Discovering that my hedonism is limited doesn’t feel great though. Did my exotic travels miss the point completely? Shouldn’t ask though, if you’re trying to be a hedonist you’re probably just a massive dick.
If like me you’re obsessed with celebrities and you’re not sure why, read this
Despite my immediate uneasiness that is always brought about when my fetishes are intellectualised – the fun is lost when you know why you do it – I quite like a few of the notions Rose uncovers. They make for good comebacks when the Woman's Weekly you tried to hide under your copy of TIME magazine is uncovered:
‘No mind can free itself completely from the aim of mastering the onslaughts of the world. No human being completely escapes perversion…Can you have public life without idealisation? And then: can you have idealisation without sadism? What would a world look like in which we did not seek out people to carry our own shame? Rather than having celebrities about whom we feel curious, we create celebrities so that our curiosity, or curiosity at its most violent, can be licensed and maintained.’
BOOYAH.
I’ll let that note end itself eh. Oh, wait! This is probably the most interesting thing I read this week.
BOOYAH. That just felt right.
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