mardi 18 janvier 2011

Eric Bogosian, PERFORATED HEART, New York, Simon & Schuster, 2009, 271 pages.

I can't do this. I have no work, no money. I am seriously thinking of moving back to Stoneham to live with Dad. I mean what's the point? And as far as writing goes, why do I have to be in New York City to write? Why is it so important to make money writing? I can go back to Stoneham, work as a landscaper and write at night. Why do I need to be in the thick of things? Anonymity was good enough for Dickinson, good enough for Kafka. I need to write like a madman, then when I have achieved my goals, I will burn everything.
Zim says the objective of the writer is to persist, to survive, like a cockroach. Katie says I have no choice. I will have to stay until I get run out of town.
katie has convinced me to give myself another six months. The only way I can think about it is "if not me, who?" I know my writing is better than the others. But there's no proof of this "fact."
(p. 204)

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