dept of “what’s wrong with me?”:

– jogging by a used condom on Bernal Hill this morning, I didn’t immediately think, “eew! gross!”; instead, I imagined a proud, nervous 17-year-old, and mentally congratulated him on “getting laid.” What’s Wrong With Me? This may be a result of last night’s reading of Dom Casmurro, a scene of 19th-century Brazilian coming-of-age first-kiss young love…

I need to read Gilbert Sorrentino’s two most accessible and successful novels: Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things and Aberration of Starlight.



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