Four men are sitting around a table. A notebook lays in front of each of them, with various sheets of loose paper, pens, pencils, and erasers scattered over the rest of the broad, wood table. George is shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and stands up to look out the window, to observe the naked plains before him.
“I don't fucking get this. What are we doing here anyway?” George asks irritably.
Kurt, calm, responds, “George, we go through this every year. We're on a deadline.”
“You say that every year too,” says George.
“Well either way, we have to come up with something,” Kurt says. “We've all done this a thousand times. Let's just give them something short, sweet, and poo-tee-weet, we're outta here.”
George glares at Kurt a moment but then sits back down and picks up a pen.
Oscar begins to whistle a cheerful tune.
Kurt poses in a thousand yard stare into the blank wall, while George starts scribbling frantically. His eyes grow wide and foam forms in the corner of his mouth.
Oscar stops whistling and looks at Kurt, still lost in thought. He nudges him, breaking his concentration and nods in George's direction. Kurt realizes what is happening, stands behind George to read the scrawl he's affixed to the page.
“'I want to live my next life backwards...'” Kurt begins to read aloud. “'You start out dead and get that...' no, no, no, George, stop, seriously, come on. I mean it's a fine idea, but we need a quote, something punchy. A one-liner.”
George puts down his pen. “'One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor,'” he responds.
“Oh why was I born with such contemporaries,” Oscar sighs.
Showing posts with label kurt vonnegut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kurt vonnegut. Show all posts
8.05.2016
10.31.2012
The Lit Log: Shannon Aliza
This is the first in a series called the Lit Log, where I ask people to document what and how they read. If you would like to contribute to the Lit Log, hit me up at andhertz [at] gmail.
Shannon is currently trolling the streets of Beijing with a Leica lens at earthisboring.blogspot.com.
How many books (approximately) do you read a year: I'd like to say more than ten novels, but time and space are hard to gauge.
How many book do you read at a time: I read one at a time. I like to read graphic novels in one sitting, if possible.
The last great book you read: Winter Journal by Paul Auster was the perfect book to read at the time I was reading it. Auster is my literary soul mate. He opened up fiction for me with the New York Trilogy. Philip K Dick is noted for his mind-bending-ness, but I don't think Auster is as recognized for fucking with peoples brains. Similar to ALL Haruki Murakami novels, The New York Trilogy has always stuck in my veins in a way I feel both uncomfortable with and excited by. Winter Journal is the type of autobiography I would write about myself if I were to do that kind of thing.
Your desert island book: Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut
Prison cell book: Hardboiled Wonderland and The End of the World by Haruki Murakami
Autumn book: Autumn is both exciting and depressing. I tend to read new things in the fall, rather than reread or go back to old favorites. I just finished The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith and will start NW soon.
Are you satisfied with your literary intake: No, absolutely not. I would love to have more time to read, but I have photos to take and the state of my existence in China to contemplate.
Thoughts on contemporary state of literature: The biggest disappointment to me this year in the literary world, was when Jonah Lehrer was discovered to have MADE UP information in his book Imagine. He is a young, smart, relevant guy who has completely discredited himself (he was often a guest on RadioLab-- the best podcast around!). The news of this broke just after the Mike Daisy incident on This American Life. Smart young people need to step up their game. Success is such a smack in the face and really seems to signify not needing to work hard anymore. I don't think I can trust a writer who isn't tortured. Not that I want David Foster Wallace type smart and tortured writers, but there is an element of truly hard work that goes into really great novels. A lot of people in their twenties are too into themselves to see the world on a larger scale-- to see that their laziness effects others. Look at all of the literary prizes that are given out almost solely to an older generation (Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending won the 2011 Booker Prize. A totally incredible novel that largely takes place in the 60s). They are working hard to stay relevant. Does it really take 30 years of writing to achieve literary acclaim? Absolutely not. Most people we admire these days (Hemingway wrote The Sun Also Rises when he was 27, Mary Shelley was 21 when she wrote Frankenstein, and Kerouac wrote On the Road when he was 25 ) were young. Unfortunately, young writers, especially those who have not graduated from esteemed MFA or ivy league thesis programs are incredibly overlooked. What I LOVE about contemporary literature is that there are so many venues for writers who are not in the mainstream to get their work into the public sphere. Small start up literary zines like The Logan Square Literary Review or websites like McSweeneys and The Diagram are all amazing ways to showcase writers who are honing their craft. Most of the writers are unknown because they have 9-5 jobs, do not come from privilege, and have to hermit away their time to make their way. Similar to the days of the Beat Poets, writers nowadays have to create communities inside their hometowns/cities and become big from there. One of the most exciting readings I went to in Chicago was a poetry reading done by two guys who were touring around the country, just like musicians, from reading to reading and selling their books. It was great.
How many books (approximately) do you read a year: I'd like to say more than ten novels, but time and space are hard to gauge.
How many book do you read at a time: I read one at a time. I like to read graphic novels in one sitting, if possible.
The last great book you read: Winter Journal by Paul Auster was the perfect book to read at the time I was reading it. Auster is my literary soul mate. He opened up fiction for me with the New York Trilogy. Philip K Dick is noted for his mind-bending-ness, but I don't think Auster is as recognized for fucking with peoples brains. Similar to ALL Haruki Murakami novels, The New York Trilogy has always stuck in my veins in a way I feel both uncomfortable with and excited by. Winter Journal is the type of autobiography I would write about myself if I were to do that kind of thing.
Your desert island book: Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut
Prison cell book: Hardboiled Wonderland and The End of the World by Haruki Murakami
Autumn book: Autumn is both exciting and depressing. I tend to read new things in the fall, rather than reread or go back to old favorites. I just finished The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith and will start NW soon.
Are you satisfied with your literary intake: No, absolutely not. I would love to have more time to read, but I have photos to take and the state of my existence in China to contemplate.
Thoughts on contemporary state of literature: The biggest disappointment to me this year in the literary world, was when Jonah Lehrer was discovered to have MADE UP information in his book Imagine. He is a young, smart, relevant guy who has completely discredited himself (he was often a guest on RadioLab-- the best podcast around!). The news of this broke just after the Mike Daisy incident on This American Life. Smart young people need to step up their game. Success is such a smack in the face and really seems to signify not needing to work hard anymore. I don't think I can trust a writer who isn't tortured. Not that I want David Foster Wallace type smart and tortured writers, but there is an element of truly hard work that goes into really great novels. A lot of people in their twenties are too into themselves to see the world on a larger scale-- to see that their laziness effects others. Look at all of the literary prizes that are given out almost solely to an older generation (Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending won the 2011 Booker Prize. A totally incredible novel that largely takes place in the 60s). They are working hard to stay relevant. Does it really take 30 years of writing to achieve literary acclaim? Absolutely not. Most people we admire these days (Hemingway wrote The Sun Also Rises when he was 27, Mary Shelley was 21 when she wrote Frankenstein, and Kerouac wrote On the Road when he was 25 ) were young. Unfortunately, young writers, especially those who have not graduated from esteemed MFA or ivy league thesis programs are incredibly overlooked. What I LOVE about contemporary literature is that there are so many venues for writers who are not in the mainstream to get their work into the public sphere. Small start up literary zines like The Logan Square Literary Review or websites like McSweeneys and The Diagram are all amazing ways to showcase writers who are honing their craft. Most of the writers are unknown because they have 9-5 jobs, do not come from privilege, and have to hermit away their time to make their way. Similar to the days of the Beat Poets, writers nowadays have to create communities inside their hometowns/cities and become big from there. One of the most exciting readings I went to in Chicago was a poetry reading done by two guys who were touring around the country, just like musicians, from reading to reading and selling their books. It was great.
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