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| Kelsey Grammer's lawyers will be in touch |
In some respects, it might be better for me to stop buying self-published books from Amazon (other despotic global conglomerates are available) written by people on the platform-formerly-and-forevermore-known-as-Twitter who exude a sense of desperate self-pity and have links in their bios to their creative outpourings. I've never yet been as blown away as I have been by the books which random intertextual coincidences like those across which I've stumbled in algorithmic suggestions or prefaces and introductions in other books to wonders like Laird Hunt's The Impossibly and the collected stories of Breece D'J Pancake.
Is it sympathy on my part, or just my own desperate need
to be seen?
Nope.
It’s their fault for making me feel uncomfortable.
In respect to Neil and his diaries, I’m not sure I can sum up my feelings any better than British Amazon customer TUS, who, appearing to prefer reviewing athletic supports and camera equipment rather than short collections of introspective poetry, of Neil’s other publicly available offering, a collection of introspective poems called Ink Roads, said the following:
Neil feels like one of those people who regularly get text messages saying, “U OK?”.
His irregularly updated blog, the URL for which I’ve lost since I deleted it from my Blogs of Note widget, was a study in repressed aggression, particularly the focus on Cheers spin-off character Frazer Crane, and most of the featured onanism is a hate-fuck perpetrated against the self. This collection of short prose pieces is still quite angry, but mostly sad. And I feel terrible for not liking it very much.
I don’t really have much more to add, other than tickets to my live show at The NEON (formerly Newport Odeon) are now on pre-sale for patreons, with tickets on general sale from next Wednesday*.
*Not
(Paid link)
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