Adam Gnade

Last night the five of us went to town and I bought Finnegan’s Wake at the bookstore. (Had a choice between Neruda’s love poems, Lost Souls, and that. Thickness won out. When you’re writing a book as thick as a telephone directory it’s good to stay in the same realm.) Reading plan looks like: finish Karenina, get through the unget-through-able Joyce, then the field is open. Proust? Infinite Jest? Death in the Afternoon? Cervantes? I’d like to reread 2666 and take my time this round and let all the oil and blood seep in. Last time I read it was on a train across the country. Might be nice to hole up in bed with it and wait out the cold days. We’ll see.

Oh, and speaking of books, LG overheard the following conversation in the bookstore.

Little boy: Mom, buy me a book. I want a book!

Mom: I got you a book yesterday. Don’t you remember?

Boy: You didn’t buy me a book. I want a book!

Mom: Remember? I downloaded it to my Kindle.

Boy: That’s not a book!

Fuck yeah, kid, good work. (Just because people are getting stupider doesn’t mean you have to. Maybe that kid’ll be buying his own telephone book novels in 10 years. I’ve got hope.)

Today I plan to work on Youth is a Wolf Dark and Golden until it’s time for the evening farm work. Since Jan 5 I’ve written 100 pages (of that, maybe 50 usable.) Plan is to knock out the next half by Feb 5 and then add to the bones until June 5. I know that’s a little OCD but I like structure in the midst of formlessness. Number games keep me rolling and deadlines put on the heat when the only heat is what you bring with you.

Here’s to another day  at it…