Latest ten days of posting

Weblog | I don't like the word blog, it's ugly. Anyway, new content happens here. (Swedish dito)

About me and the site | Twenty-something male who likes text. Obsessed with things such as books, reality, communication, and one or two tv-shows.

Archives | Things written here since... well, 2001. Some of it is good, some is utter shait.

Books | Books read, not books written. So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.

Photo | I like my camera and it likes me.

Links | Outwards, away, flee.

e-mail | J. Nicklas Andersson

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2001-08-11

“Corflu. I need Corflu!”, I exclaimed as I staggered out of the room. I don’t know why because I don’t use a mimeograph to stencil fanzines, I use a regular copy machine, that’s how uncultivated I am — no respect for the past. From which dark depths of my mind did corflu come from? If I had some, I would be a hero, a rich hero in these times where corflu is valued more than gold and harder than Jesus to come by. A mimeo would be nice, but a Blickenderfer 5 electric typewriter from 1895 would be better. I’d pay with a perfectly good kidney for one of those, not my kidney, but a kidney nevertheless.

As recently as a couple of hours ago, in his always excellent Textism, Dean Allen shows why I like Dorothy Parker as much as I do. She was truly one of the few Jiants we’ve had, it’s hard to be better than her.

When The Naked and the Dead was published in 1948, much of the language was deemed too coarse, and [Norman] Mailer had to have his characters use the term fug. When Dorothy Parker subsequently met him at a party, she said, “So you’re the young man who can’t spell fuck?”

She cut straight to the heart of the matter. Sadly, people like her aren’t made anymore.