July 21, 2011
In this dream I have, Susan Sontag is probably in her late fifties, and Joyce Carol Oates is in her late twenties, early thirties. Weirdly, though, they’ve both written all the books they will ever write. And they hate each other in this way I can’t really explain. JCO calls Sontag a loudmouth [...]
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June 16, 2011
There were two events, either one of which or perhaps both could have started it. The sense that was understanding. The understanding crystalline at maybe five or perhaps six that everyone, everyone was psychic except me. My mother looked at me once after she’d scolded me for eating all the bitter baker’s chocolate, looked at [...]
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