This Is the End, and, Nice Hair.

Bret Easton Ellis and mix tapes just go together like chocolate and peanut butter, or sunglasses and hangovers. Saw him read last night: funny, charming, thoughtful, generous. Didn’t disrespect any wimmen movie directors that I heard. Like the meta on the new book. Know what it’s like to not want to let go of characters; keep stabbing at that vein. One thing that struck my vein was him saying a trigger for American Psycho was his “disappointment with the world of adults.” That’s common to our generation, but now that I am fully adult, I’m simply disappointed with myself. Cut out the middleman, no pun intended.

Mix Tape #3

I’m going to save that song for the end—
You know, that sick swoop inside you
When the chemicals have all been pissed away
And you’re hollow again. A holy feeling,

That’s one of the funny things about hangovers,
That whiff of rebirth. Pain means you did it again,
You’re still alive. We’re set up to get off
On this cycle: Tension, explosion, end.

So you start the tape with taut beats
And flutters. Then move into noise.
I’m good at putting these together, good
At knowing how to end. You get tired

Of being good at knowing endings.
You’re not so much looking for a big surprise
As for that thump, barefoot, dancing
On the ground, and—-take a look around--

These are the ones left with you,
This is what you are hearing now,
This is the place you have ended up,
This is what you came here for.


Wanted to top this up with a stirring epigram and was looking for that Baudrillard canard about culture growing like hair and fingernails in the grave and found this memorable quote instead: “Baudrillard: Full of shit, but will get you laid.” Discuss for your next class. Sportswriters do indeed rock.