Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Sunday, October 03, 2004

Failure of the Day: Between 30 and 40

Well, for starters, to catch up on some older business, Cloud Atlas is simply one of the finest novels I have read in the last 5 years. There are spots that are jaw-droppingly great; the rest is merely impeccably written, ingenious, and beautiful. I urge all you who might be planning to participate in Nanowrimo or otherwise engaged in trying to write a novel to avoid it at all costs or risk whatever self-esteem and sorry pocketful of rationalizations you may possess—motherfucken author is not yet 40 and if my spidey sense is correct, some 2 weeks from snagging the Booker prize.

Having just now ended my THIRD course of antibiotics in just over a month, I am almost confident in announcing that the phase in which I was inexplicably but most defiantly pro-biotic is now finally over. thank god.

Seeing as how my one year tobacco free anniversary is approaching, I had intended to celebrate by conning Chris into letting me have a cigar but instead I will probably just eat an enormous plate of spaghetti. Because this year’s Day After My Birthday Death of Joy plan features in a starring role the SouthBeach diet. I fully intend to lose the 30 pounds I gained in 1991, lost in 1996, and then regained in 1999. Whoop de do. And as a reward for having written that, here is a picture of me looking like I in no way need to lose 30 pounds.


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