Books I’ve Enjoyed In the Last Three Months But Foolishly Didn’t Bring With Me to Write About So More On These Later
- Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
- Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street
- Vladimir Nabokov, Transparent Things
- Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary.

Songs.

Songs.

A couple weeks ago, I saw Tori Amos in a nice, sit-down venue here in Denver. Nearly as notable as the extremely good performance was the people-watching: the general crowd vibe can only be described as Lilith Fair-ass. Particularly the universally goateed dudes sprinkled through the crowd.

I don't know how to start this shit, Nasir Jones voice. I hope everyone got a chance to read Claire Dederer's What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?, which was included in last week's Good Word. It's a wonderful exploration of how to reconcile enthusiasm for a work in a vacuum with the unavoidable monstrosity of its creator, and more broadly a re-assurance of the primacy of one's personal, private feelings over canonical or correct tastes.

The first time I saw Circuit des Yeux, she was howling and writhing all over the stage in a small Irish pub in Raleigh. It was completely disruptive to the otherwise tranquil Friday night scene, and one of the more impressive shows that I had seen in some time.