So many new/old books to read. And so few functioning eye muscles. Birthday booty, today. Well done mother, for getting me The Periodic Table of Hip Hop and F**k It. Fine choices indeed.
And this slim volume of essays by Douglas Coupland reminds me muchly of Jean Baurdrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation. As the blurb says, it is “an illuminating meander through what we call culture today.” Full of wise words and dry amusement.
“Writing is such a desolate, lonely profession and it never gets less lonely. In fact, as I sit here a few days before turning fifty, it feels so lonely that I wonder if I can visit the place of writing anymore, which, in a backward way, tells me that’s exactly why I should go forward. The things worth writing about, and the things worth reading about, are the things that feel almost beyond description at the start and are, because of that, frightening.”