...by Susan Sontag may be the most depressing book in my current stack of depressing books. All of the books in my stack are not necessarily depressing, or they might be, under the right circumstances. The cover of RTPOO features an ink drawing of a man hung by the neck from a pruned tree, his pants down around his knees, and another man lounging on a tall rectangular slab before him, fairly disinterested, with a thick mustache and a fur hat. There are scribble-y bushes around. Despite the ink drawing, most of the first 25 pages are concerned with photographs, war photography, the interpretation of said photography, depending on the point of view of the view of said photography. My feeling is that there is a lot more evisceration to come.
I like the word viscera, maybe.
I like Light Boxes so far, by Shane Jones, and Bob, or man on Boat by Peter Markus.
It has been warm in Portland, but today is comfortable. I will have homemade carrot cake tonight. I will have katsu curry and oatmeal stout. Rode bikes around with Sarah and looked at all the hundreds of for sale houses. We were chased by small dogs and large, Dodge Ram trucks. I want to take my bike off jumps or something, but the best I could manage was bunny hopping off curbs.
Weeks ago we saw Hamlet in Ashland and there was rap music.