It’s still technically #fridayreads, and today that meant starting Bill Cheng’s Southern Cross the Dog and Yoko Ono’s Grapefruit, continuing two George R. R. Martin doorstops on the Kindle (A Clash of Kings and Dreamsongs), and, of course, blessed magazines.

It’s still technically #fridayreads, and today that meant starting Bill Cheng’s Southern Cross the Dog and Yoko Ono’s Grapefruit, continuing two George R. R. Martin doorstops on the Kindle (A Clash of Kings and Dreamsongs), and, of course, blessed magazines.

It’s #fridayreads once again, and I’ve picked up David Graeber’s Debt: The First 5,000 Years after abandoning it a year ago, so when I finish I will still be in the dark as to the last year and a half of debt, but whatever. A galley of Fobbit, for review probably; Chekhov’s The Duel, continuing my campaign to read the shortest books possible by the great Russian fiction writers; and the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, part of my ongoing survey of Western philosophy (I’m still in the shallow waters of the Stoics).

It’s #fridayreads once again, and I’ve picked up David Graeber’s Debt: The First 5,000 Years after abandoning it a year ago, so when I finish I will still be in the dark as to the last year and a half of debt, but whatever. A galley of Fobbit, for review probably; Chekhov’s The Duel, continuing my campaign to read the shortest books possible by the great Russian fiction writers; and the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, part of my ongoing survey of Western philosophy (I’m still in the shallow waters of the Stoics).

My #fridayreads include: Why Does the World Exist? by Jim Holt, which smells strangely like Play-Doh, fitting for a book with such a faux-naïf title; The Dream of Doctor Bantam by Jeanne Thornton, featuring a memorable Smashing Pumpkins/Wal-Mart/IHOP sequence; Casino Royale, because every new Bond movie is an occasion for anticipation—even though 75% of the time, like clockwork, those hopes are dashed—so this book doubles as apéritif and inoculant; and finally, David Hume’s scandalous, posthumous On Suicide (speaking of inoculants).

My #fridayreads include: Why Does the World Exist? by Jim Holt, which smells strangely like Play-Doh, fitting for a book with such a faux-naïf title; The Dream of Doctor Bantam by Jeanne Thornton, featuring a memorable Smashing Pumpkins/Wal-Mart/IHOP sequence; Casino Royale, because every new Bond movie is an occasion for anticipation—even though 75% of the time, like clockwork, those hopes are dashed—so this book doubles as apéritif and inoculant; and finally, David Hume’s scandalous, posthumous On Suicide (speaking of inoculants).

It’s time for #fridayreads, remedial education and lit-mags-with-vag-pics edition!
So: Stephen Amidon’s Something Like the Gods, because I so rarely read about sports, but I will always read a book that shits on the International Olympic Committee; George Bernard Shaw’s The Perfect Wagnerite, a book I bought with the best of intentions when I was an undergraduate Wagnerite (but never bothered to read because the Ring cycle wasn’t on PBS like it is this month); just the introduction to Hume’s Enquiry (let’s be realistic); and sweet magazines.
Vanity Fair doesn’t have any vagina photos, but thanks to Michael Lewis I learned that Barack Obama writes with a No. 2 pencil—THE SAME KIND AS ME!

It’s time for #fridayreads, remedial education and lit-mags-with-vag-pics edition!

So: Stephen Amidon’s Something Like the Gods, because I so rarely read about sports, but I will always read a book that shits on the International Olympic Committee; George Bernard Shaw’s The Perfect Wagnerite, a book I bought with the best of intentions when I was an undergraduate Wagnerite (but never bothered to read because the Ring cycle wasn’t on PBS like it is this month); just the introduction to Hume’s Enquiry (let’s be realistic); and sweet magazines.

Vanity Fair doesn’t have any vagina photos, but thanks to Michael Lewis I learned that Barack Obama writes with a No. 2 pencil—THE SAME KIND AS ME!

My #fridayreads include the three books I showed you last week but haven’t started yet, plus these three little ones to pad my reading stats: Hume’s On Suicide, Lethem’s Fear of Music, and Shelley’s Mathilda. But mostly this weekend I’ll be reading The Stranger’s Bumbershoot insert, featuring an interview with (finally!) Skrillex’s haircut.

My #fridayreads include the three books I showed you last week but haven’t started yet, plus these three little ones to pad my reading stats: Hume’s On Suicide, Lethem’s Fear of Music, and Shelley’s Mathilda. But mostly this weekend I’ll be reading The Stranger’s Bumbershoot insert, featuring an interview with (finally!) Skrillex’s haircut.

This week’s #fridayreads are, for the most part, Daniel Fights a Hurricane by Shane Jones, which is deliciously weird; a smelly and disintegrating copy of Portrait of a Rebel: The Life and Work of Robert Louis Stevenson by Richard Aldington, liberated at some point in the last 55 years from the library system of Kent county, England (Invicta!); and, as always, sweet magazines.

This week’s #fridayreads are, for the most part, Daniel Fights a Hurricane by Shane Jones, which is deliciously weird; a smelly and disintegrating copy of Portrait of a Rebel: The Life and Work of Robert Louis Stevenson by Richard Aldington, liberated at some point in the last 55 years from the library system of Kent county, England (Invicta!); and, as always, sweet magazines.

My #fridayreads are kind of amazing this week. I’m reading Patrick Somerville’s This Bright River, because I’ve been dying to find out who gets bonked in the head—plus, when you read it, you will be reminded of how much you really love CSNY; Mary Jo Bang’s crazy translation of Inferno, because it’s great and I want to actually finish a Rumpus Poetry Book Club book in the month that it drops; Robert Louis Stevenson’s Apology for Idlers because Stevenson is my new Scottish god (replacing Roddy Frame); eventually I’ll get around to his The Beach of Falesá for the same reason; Hitchens’s piece on Orwell in the Vanity Fair; everything in the new Believer; and this great postcard that I got in response to my Letter to Each Other. Not pictured: Lethem’s The Ecstasy of Influence, which I’m listening to because I love his adenoidal delivery and the weird way he says “rahther” as if he’s a Brit or an old-timey New England Yankee.

My #fridayreads are kind of amazing this week. I’m reading Patrick Somerville’s This Bright River, because I’ve been dying to find out who gets bonked in the head—plus, when you read it, you will be reminded of how much you really love CSNY; Mary Jo Bang’s crazy translation of Inferno, because it’s great and I want to actually finish a Rumpus Poetry Book Club book in the month that it drops; Robert Louis Stevenson’s Apology for Idlers because Stevenson is my new Scottish god (replacing Roddy Frame); eventually I’ll get around to his The Beach of Falesá for the same reason; Hitchens’s piece on Orwell in the Vanity Fair; everything in the new Believer; and this great postcard that I got in response to my Letter to Each Other. Not pictured: Lethem’s The Ecstasy of Influence, which I’m listening to because I love his adenoidal delivery and the weird way he says “rahther” as if he’s a Brit or an old-timey New England Yankee.

This week’s #fridayreads is brought to you by the three things keeping me sane today: beer, whiskey, and How to Get Into the Twin Palms by Karolina Waclawiak.

This week’s #fridayreads is brought to you by the three things keeping me sane today: beer, whiskey, and How to Get Into the Twin Palms by Karolina Waclawiak.

My #fridayreads: J R, on account of #OccupyGaddis (though I’m doubtful about being able to read two Gaddis books in one year), the new Complete Poems of Philip Larkin, the current Harper’s, a whiskey & soda, and a beer. Not pictured: an iPod playing Belle & Sebastian on shuffle—a bit out of season, I know, but magically mostly sticking to the happy stuff; the incense-and-soap smell of these Nasturtiums that someone had better put on a salad soon; the balletic interplay of an insectoid-sounding male Rufous Hummingbird with other, less ostentatious hummers of a different gender and/or species; and the feeling of the exposed parts of my skin sticking to everything in this perfect 70°, 44% humidity, summah weather.

My #fridayreads: J R, on account of #OccupyGaddis (though I’m doubtful about being able to read two Gaddis books in one year), the new Complete Poems of Philip Larkin, the current Harper’s, a whiskey & soda, and a beer. Not pictured: an iPod playing Belle & Sebastian on shuffle—a bit out of season, I know, but magically mostly sticking to the happy stuff; the incense-and-soap smell of these Nasturtiums that someone had better put on a salad soon; the balletic interplay of an insectoid-sounding male Rufous Hummingbird with other, less ostentatious hummers of a different gender and/or species; and the feeling of the exposed parts of my skin sticking to everything in this perfect 70°, 44% humidity, summah weather.

My #fridayreads, or, more specifically, the books I would like to start reading as soon as I’m finally done with this fucking book I won’t mention:
The Lola Quartet by Emily St. John Mandel, the Rumpus Book Club pick for April,
Goodbye, Flicker by Carmen Giménez Smith, the Rumpus Poetry Book Club pick,
A Brief History of Thought by Luc Ferry, and
Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner, strongly recommended by Barbara Browning and Tao Lin.

My #fridayreads, or, more specifically, the books I would like to start reading as soon as I’m finally done with this fucking book I won’t mention:

The Lola Quartet by Emily St. John Mandel, the Rumpus Book Club pick for April,

Goodbye, Flicker by Carmen Giménez Smith, the Rumpus Poetry Book Club pick,

A Brief History of Thought by Luc Ferry, and

Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner, strongly recommended by Barbara Browning and Tao Lin.