Dear Readers, Hello! We’re so happy to see you all. It’s been a whole week but you still smell exactly the same and you look only marginally worse. We open our pages to you—you lovely readers who support the little … Read More
‘Reading,’ as describing a certain activity of eye-sliding-over-page, with eye recognizing ink blobs corresponding (by means of whatever neural calculus) either (1) to something like second-order phonemes, and therefore to certain aural centers and therefore to speech-parts of the brain, which ‘articulate’ meaning to other parts, or (2) to something like second-order morphemes, and therefore to certain visual centers, and therefore to picture-parts of the brains, which ‘project’ meanings to other parts, or (3) to some combination of (1) and (2)—well, ignore that or bracket it, because I have 1,000 words and a little over, say, ten minutes to argue for long and arduous works of literature, their import and glory—and, specifically, for the particularly long and particularly arduous recent novels of Roberto Bolaño and David Foster Wallace.
Toward the end of June, as the dog-days of summer fell upon New York City suddenly and definitely, I made a religious pilgrimage to Corona Park, Queens, to see Billy Graham’s supposedly Last Crusade. Riding a crowded 7 train out to Queens I felt a palpable sense of excitement….It was like going to a Mets game, only more diverse.
Operation Style put on their annual charity fashion show on Friday on the Frist South Lawn. It looked like a benefit in a second-rate but affluent suburb, or a production at a private school looking to increase its endowment.
Everyone seems to at least know of John Mangual, especially former residents of Mathey College and current members of Terrace. He has a way of striking up unique conversations, pointing out unusual details of situations, and smiling with a friendly glow.