My Own Dementia

Plans were made without a doubt. There is a certain pride in my scheduling. I finished Money by Amis and then my plan slid aground. I thoroughly enjoyed the novel's coda, the final 60 pages as John Self's prosperity unravels and he plays chess with Martin Amis. This was sublime.

I had made plans to pursue postindustrial America in its Eastern promises. I though I would push into American Rust and Sunlight Dialogues and be sated before June and the NBA Finals and the World Cup elbow EVERYTHING else out of focus.

I then encountered Mulligan Stew by Gilbert Sorrentino and discovered Iain Sinclair.

That is where we are.