I'm reading Murakami again: 1Q84. Stylistically, it can get immensely dulling. In fact, I've noticed a shortness of inspiration from literature in general lately. I set up a Google Alert for Ben Lerner and that's helped to solve it a bit. His new article in The New Yorker—every sentence is sharp, strange, and condensed like a fuckin' diamond.

So yes, 1Q84—stylistically dulling but warm, just odd enough to be enjoyable, breezy.


I'm living with Maria at her parents' house in Alexandria, VA and looking for a spot of my own. Everything is pretty expensive, just the same as Cali. I've kept my same editing gig but I don't want to be in a position where, even though I'm working my ass off, I can hardly afford my life. I'd rather live in a hovel, but I know I'll end up getting steered out of my budget regardless.

Goodnight, dream of making more money.