A few months ago I was approached by a very wanton Pub Man who, jealously assuming someone to be my boyfriend, said to him: “thiz guy, thiz one, I svear, you could save Batman! You could even save Witcher! You are a lucky guy!”, seemingly in an attempt at verbal intimidation.
The three central pieties of 21st century literature: the notion that Henry James novels are “psychological”; that the second-world is surprisingly articulate, and that there is a dark underbelly to pop culture which might involve secret agents.
There has been nothing written in my lifetime which amounts to more than pop-culture criticism, of the kind that betrays its author as A Fan litigating his appetites, his collections, concerned for the future of the Witcher franchise.
@baltic_dan My cobbler, a very lazy man, is leaving tomorrow for a holiday of indeterminate length. My favourite shoes are still held in his shop, at a ransom of £45. Will you send me this amount? If I am without them I will die. Thank you
I am so cloyed by English summer it is the swaggered approach of a pub man, it's smoothing back its hair and putting down its cider for a mid-length Chat, i feel its excruciating breath on my face as it asks me what I "do". I want to live in a world where there is only ice.
I have been sorely disappointed and would, I think, find myself much more receptive to overtures were they delivered in a kind of clairvoyant murmur w/maybe a low chuckle for good measure, I should think, that man clearly knows something I don't and I had better give him my purse
Also I think Quevedo sours so much when he's "funny", it's like the Wyndham Lewis Comedy Writing of constantly circumscribing the cleverness of one's own vulgarity, insisting that, jokes aside, there is something Serious at hand
Quevedo is obvs purer and better and exemplar per modernism as basically reactionary and aesthetics thereof historically unexceptional etc but I rly like Riddles and philological kitsch is too German a thing to be mad about