Reading in Bloomington at the cemetery in my neighborhood, the Near West Side. I’ll be reading poems and aphorisms (ie. subjective-truth spittin’ particularized by its abstract nature, grounded in happening and being in a moment, of a specific, indelible place, yet not situated (completely) in a single, solid place.)
It seems significant that we don’t want things to be quiet ever anymore…that seems to me to have something to do with when you feel like the purpose of your life is to gratify yourself and get things for yourself and go all the time, there’s this other part of you, that’s the same part that can kind of—it’s almost hungry for silence and quiet and thinking really hard about the same thing for maybe a half an hour instead of thirty seconds that doesn’t get fed at all.
“A lot of the people who read a bestselling novel, for example, do not read much other fiction. By contrast, the audience for an obscure novel is largely composed of people who read a lot. That means the least popular books are judged by people who have the highest standards, while the most popular are judged by people who literally do not know any better. An American who read just one book this year was disproportionately likely to have read ‘The Lost Symbol’, by Dan Brown. He almost certainly liked it.”