Monday, August 29, 2005
Whale Riders
JOHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

That Granta in your bathroom—I have decided that I must have it. Actually, that I must have part of it—so do not put it in the wood chipper yet. I must have the James Joyce interview at the end, because it is all fucked up, and about the weird dream language in Finnegan's Wake.

Also he talks about sexing the hell out of your mom.

Ooooooh!

If any of you crave the picaresque life of a professional tree trimmer, I have just completed a full occupational report on the subject.

For anyone who knows Grant Tracey--last night it was discovered that I am turning into Grant Tracey--unkempt hair, black glasses, going to collect an MFA. Hopefully I will not write sort-of boring literary fiction for the rest of my days.

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