A Cruel Man Delighting in Flowers

...the mildness to which men ... had yielded was only half of the intoxication of beauty, while the other half ... was of such surpassing and terrible cruelty—the most cruel of men delights himself with a flower—that beauty ... failed quickly of its effect... 

Hermann BrochThe Death of Virgil

 

Jeremy Davies is made of ink, but don’t dip a feather in him. It tickles. He once painted a fingernail black and no one really noticed. He was disappointed. He’s also an editor, a religious atheist, a liker of strong coffees, a Shakespeare-lover, a political anarchist and someone who rarely has a pen when he needs one. He has been a PhD candidate, a personal trainer, a life model, a bouncer, an infantry soldier and someone who rarely had a pen when he needed one. He has had words published in a variety of places, in a variety of publications, in a variety of forms, in a variety of moments: Canada, Wet Ink, SMS and twelve minutes past three in the afternoon being some of these. His first novel, 'Missing Presumed Undead', will be re-published by Satalyte Publishing in February 2014. A second is on its way.

Requiem For a Dream - Hubert Selby Jr. It's fortunate that literary heroin, or 'book smack' as we call it in the mean aisles of the campus library, is both less physically damaging than the powder form, and much less easy to use. And, I suppose, easier to score. Book smack can't be injected into your body and you just sit back and it does its work.

It's more subtle than that.

But, fuck man, i/ll tell ya what, this stuff is some good shit, I mean, yeah, theres rough around the edges moments that if you/re not in the vibe you might start pipping on about the punktuation or the spelling or the paragraphing like you was some middle school english teacher with them big fat titties and a deep brown stare who/ll keep you back at lunchtime and make you pick up papers in the windy hall, but you gotta know that the deal is to deliver a little more than a concise account of goings on in real hard pound of pure book smack. You gotta know everything has to send you on the trip, everything needs to point you up when you/re saying whats going on hats going on whats going on and sometimes being human we lose track of the punktuation anyways. Maybe when you/re filling in a home loan application or a stat u tory declaration and the mans right behind your shoulder with a cane and mirror glasses on then yeah you/re there, man, but other times, theres no room for the punktuation like when you're on a high or on a low or on the bed getting blown sky high by the woman with the stare that makes your spine melt. So stay cool and let Hubie in. Find a good vein. It/s worth it.

Currently reading

Lyrical and Critical Essays
Albert Camus
The Western Canon: The Books and School of the Ages
Harold Bloom
The Rebel (Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics)
Albert Camus