Posts Tagged ‘Harry Crews’


Friday, December 14th, 2012

SOME TIME AGO I had a breakthrough: I discovered I could hate my food. I was at a bar and ordered a burger I knew was a good one. I’d ordered it before and had every reason to look forward to it. I was in a shitty mood tho, so when it arrived, I made it the object of my disdain and aggression. I h(ated) the fucker GONE, right out of existence.

You always hear people say things like, “I demolished that pizza,” or, “I murdered that salmon mousse,” but how often does the appropriate emotion coincide with the act of eating?

Boldly I say, Fuck Sustenance.
Nutritional, cultural, social, or otherwise.

I began to think about and experiment with Gratitude. Much of the past fews years of my life have been spent in pursuit of a pious, modest asceticism and a general thankfulness toward what little I’m ever blessed with. I’ve got some roots in Christian Mysticism, and I value the perspective of wretchedness before the awesomeness of Divinity, the worm-like tininess we occupy even as we are loved and ultimately embraced in undifferentiated Bliss.

But what about getting things done?
Being God is the only thing worth doing.


Gordon Lish Interview @ BOMB + Harry Crews

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

1. Fantastic new interview with Gordon Lish at BOMBBLOG, on the occasion of his revision of his work for the Collected publication.

GL: The less I have in mind, the more my mind can be counted upon. Unhappily, for me, mind is scarcely the whole of what applies. Call it the art of the bricoleur—making do with less. Making much out of little, a mountain out of a molehill.

2. Edited manuscript, plus photo and brief audio excerpt of Harry Crews teaching in Florida in 1980, at This Long Century.

Friday, No? Go Right Ahead.

Friday, May 7th, 2010

Nail your whiskey sweat over the fireplace.

If you’re going to write, for God in heaven’s sake, try to get naked.

Part drunk, part bee-stung dog.

Holding a bottle and a leashed alligator.

You ever lived out of a lake?

A snake will bite when dead.

I’d much rather sit here and look at trees.

You smell sweeter than soap.

I don’t drink liquor!

I fall into…

I dip my tongue.