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Why I didn't want to find his love letters in my copy of East of Eden
(
idea
)
by
junkpile
Tue Jul 18 2000 at 19:40:59
Because I never fucking understood
East of Eden
. These
beautiful educated people
sit around and smoke and talk about East of Eden and
Tropic of Cancer
and every other damn thing I don't get and I don't have anything to say. I sit there and worry about my face and how I am sitting because if I can't contribute to the discussion I hope I at least look ok. Last night I dreamed
my old lit professor
called on me in class and I had a
mildly insightful
comment about whatever we were reading and he was impressed enough to end the class on that note. I woke up angry that he'd been so easily impressed.
Love letter
, East of Eden. I read these pages and think, there is something eluding me and it is like a fucking tiger in the living room but I am still not getting it. Why? I know what all the words mean. This is not
David Foster Wallace
,
I don't need a dictionary or a map
, it's subject verb subject verb.
I never got Hemingway
and all his vocabulary is straight off any fourth-grader's spelling list.
Love letter, East of Eden. It was never really about me. I can read the words all day and it will be like how it is when I use
chopsticks
. Maybe I will manage to get a few bits into my mouth. But probably not.
printable version
chaos
I never ventured in the woods and got drunk and slept
East of Eden
Tell people they're beautiful and you will change the world
People's 50 Most Beautiful People is a crock of shit
It looks like you are writing a letter
She threw out all my letters
Tropic of Cancer
David Foster Wallace
Left with his secrets, his picture and silence
The "How many partners have you had" question
The twist of Kafka's hand
love letter
Everything Arranged Marriage Registry
Brainy people make the best friends
I got peanut butter on my ninja pants
Letter to the mother of a dead friend
He brings me books like flowers
Fate is not twisted, it is tied in a knot
Kafka's Frustration with his Inherited Language
I hate you. Please don't leave me.
Nobody writes poetry about science
The Apple
When I too long have looked upon your face,
Here were the words I was waiting for, without the part I wanted
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