[British literature]
He despised Mr. Sloughslopshire. And he despised Mrs. Suetpuddingham. How he so longed to be alone! Society's ceaseless impositions were nibbling him away as if he were a cucumber sandwich. He reviled the lower sort, with its bristling servility, and he loathed the upper sort, with its fastidious snobbery. Oh, how positively beastly it all was—how perfectly repulsive—
[Japanese literature]
I suppose I was around age three, a few months after the "slime incident," when my mind crystallized around a Darwinian ethos. The centipedes on our walls, which once stirred my aesthetic sense so innocently, now filled my young head with fleshy visions of destruction and reproduction. When winter came, my grandmother started reading to me from On the Genealogy of Morals
[American literature]
9/11—
7/11—
Global, local, crepuscular, juvenile human specimens pockmarked pus-studded awkwardness and she—she—uh—iced regular, no more, strawberry frosted (no more!)—rollers tumbling desiccated like Wheels of Fortuna judgement cast upon the salarymen imbibing the wine of Henry Ford and ingesting the bread of Friedrick Taylor REMOVE CARD NOW