Raymond Chandler can go f—k himself.
Raymond Chandler’s wisdom on writing, culled from 20+ years of his correspondence.
Mitchell would be a great name for a basic lager (along the lines of PBR, Stag, Natty Boh, etc.). “Gimme a can of Mitchell!”
There is a constant thrum of affected intimacy in cities. We all see and reveal far too much, and then we’re gone. Life does not move along coherent and narrow vectors.
Anna Weiner in “Falling Hard” for The Paris Review
This bothers me so much and it is one of the things I hate about this moment, this time in my twenties. I say this as someone that has a blog that can be personal. But most people who meet me can not connect the two because what I present here is a very small sliver of my everyday. It is a piece of me. It is not everything. It could never be everything.
But this affected intimacy is one way of not making friends. Barrett and I have discussed this a couple of times in the past. You go to a party and meet someone new. But before you learn their last name, you learn about their former alcohol dependency. You learn about their abusive ex-lover. You learn about their debts. What should be secrets for later or never are shared so easily, as if they don’t matter. But the basic things … you have to pull them out with great force. It’s like we barter, trading one form of intimacy for another. We reveal things that should be personal to hide our true selves, in fear of how others will react.
I echo this sentiment, though I have to swap out “forties” for “twenties.”
If you’re Canadian, you probably know what this is, and have memories of its incredible taste (incredibly bad taste, that is). There are reasons why one of their slogans is:
It tastes bad. And it works.
If you’re not Canadian (or have otherwise never been exposed to it) then let me just say that the You-Tube videos of people taking their first taste of it are amusing enough to be worth a search if you have nothing better to do with a few minutes of time.
Also, cypher, if you do track down a bottle of it, I wanna see a reaction gif of what you think of it after trying it!
Horrible, vile, disgusting stuff that it is, I still swear by it for bad coughs.
If I can track some down, you shall have the reaction gif post messere.
This sounds like it would also cure my persistent cough. I think it can be ordered online, but I’d still like to see your GIF all the same. :)
17. An imperial stout with chocolate and… mint. There’s a lot to process here.
Lunch break during construction of 1000 N Lake Shore Drive, 1965, Chicago.
And now, lunchtime.
After futzing about for a while with Squarespace, I realized that their services just weren’t suiting my online needs. Their integration with Flickr, for example, would work only within a narrowly proscribed field, and I kept finding myself bursting through those fields. It was worth the effort, but not any longer. Back to WordPress for me.
What this means for you, dear reader, is nothing except a format change. Some of my posts written for Squarespace will receive a nip and tuck, while the older posts written with my first attempt at using WordPress will largely stay intact. Tags and categories will be revamped, but that will largely be it for changes.
The next entry in my six-part series will be about one of England’s biggest post-war exports: Doctor Who. Those who wish to read should do so, while others can skip ahead to the following entry whenever I get around to writing it.
Yes, that is Goldschlager next to Rumple Mintz. The shelver at Schnucks has it all figured out for you.
Pearl Cafe in Florissant, MO. This represents only 30% of their beer selection (which is heavy with IPA’s).
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