In our morning reading: thoughts on Binnie Kirshenbaum’s new novel, Leland Cheuk on comedy memoirs, and more.
Afternoon Bites: Ian Williams, National Book Award Nominees, Arthur Russell, Tournament of Books Long List, and More
In our afternoon reading: a literary award for Ian Williams, thoughts on an Arthur Russell reissue, and more.
Chloe is working on the watercolor—the same one, she tells me, she’d been meaning to finish for something like two years and is almost done working on, on the day before she heads out on tour for two weeks, though she tells me she’ll be done soon, working on the circular living room table with its set of chairs that looks like they could be from the sixties, like chartreuse seashells, while the CDs of The Low & Low, like their own sorts of shells, are all in their cases in the living room, having arrived in the mail not too long ago, to start shipping to everyone who preordered them—while I’m remembering the last time I had heard about someone who could turn water into something more than water.
Morning Bites: Elle Nash Fiction, Dennis Cooper, Zachary Lipez on Generations, Notable Horror Fiction, and More
In our morning reading: fiction by Elle Nash, notable horror fiction from 2019, and more.
Afternoon Bites: Kimberly King Parsons, Leland Cheuk Interviewed, Great Indigenous Writers, and More
In our afternoon reading: interviews with Kimberly King Parsons and Leland Cheuk, great books by Indigenous authors, and more.
The guiding principle of Six Ridiculous Questions is that life is filled with ridiculousness. And questions. That only by giving in to these truths may we hope to slip the surly bonds of reality and attain the higher consciousness we all crave. (Eh, not really, but it sounded good there for a minute.) It’s just. Who knows? The ridiculousness and question bits, I guess. Why six? Assonance, baby, assonance.
Morning Bites: Jordy Rosenberg Interviewed, Aimee Mann, Revisiting F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chris Campanioni, and More
In our morning reading: interviews with Jordy Rosenberg and Chris Campanioni, revisiting Aimee Mann’s music, and more.
by Karleigh Frisbie Brogan
The master bedroom, fulsome and delicately lit, had the illusion of being near water: a ceiling that rippled with sunset, the coolness of dim afternoon. In here we put our bed, a large ship of blonde wood, of brimming pillowtop. This was an adult bedroom, correct, decent, full of secrets kept in nightstand drawers and concealed between smoothed sheets. Rooms like these are recreated for catalogues and showrooms, Platonic forms on which our dreams are based.