Sometimes I think you haven’t lived until you’ve been given the shoulder by a drunken horse in a bar. Other times I think the very stuff of life happens from being the drunken horse in a bar. But usually, it has to do with neither of these things, and I’m fairly certain that none of it would be worth the slightest damn if there was no Queneau to neigh by.
The Trojan Horse
Queneau, Raymond
February 10th, 2010 · 3 Comments
The Passion Considered as an Uphill Bicycle Race
Jarry, Alfred
November 28th, 2007 · 2 Comments
I hope those of you celebrating All Things Autumnal are settling into it well, the roast fowl and the hot cacao and woodfire smoke for dessert, and, well, you know the picture I’m aiming for here. It does wonders to the general countenance, I think:
