Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Sunday 4 April 2010
Great American literature.
I've given up on Bukowski and given up on Kerouac too.
Gone back to Cormack McCarthy. Reading 'Child of god' and blown away by the way McCarthy's lyricism can convince me to feel compassion for the most despicable of human beings.
This man is the greatest living writer in America.
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