mardi 18 janvier 2011

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

I live the life everyone else wants to live. I am supercharged with the excitement of my work and my writing. And I am living life to its fullest here in New York. I am out every night, I have a wonderful lover and good friends, in fact everyone I meet in the streets, at parties, in the subway, every bum, every shop owner, every cop, hooker, hot dog guy, flower lady they are all my friends.
I'm like a tenth-century Persian poet, sipping the nectar from the many flowers. Wine, women, song. Delicious.
Discipline is the key. I am not hanging with Zim anymore. He is too distracting. He leaves messages on my answering machine, taunting me. He says I have no guts. He whispers accusations that I am a "schoolboy." Fuck him.
Katie encourages me. She helps me focus. She is my muse.
And I have been spending time with that Esquire editor, Leon. I entertain him with stories about John and the various street people I hung with. He loves to laugh this guy. Laugh and sniff enormous volumes of cocaine. He's teaching me about vintage wines and fine brandies. He respects me as a writer.
(p. 262)

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