Donald Glover uses so many forehead-slapping punchlines and embarrassing rhymes, but he secretly has a lot to say. He’s got an annoying voice half the time, but killer flow all the time. And he has all the beats. Excited to press play on because the internet today.
“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.
– Dorothy Parker”—(via thetinhouse)
Toni Morrison’s Sula, Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections, Jane Hamilton’s The Book of Ruth, Jennifer Egan’s Look at Me, Dorothy West’s The Wedding, Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity (MAYBE…I still need to revisit), David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park, Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun, and then a few by Stephen King, my all-time favorite, would be Lisey’s Story, ‘Salem’s Lot, and On Writing.
“This is where those of you who are not parents will sound off with ‘you should let them judge’ or ‘I killed hookers in Grand Theft Auto III when I was five and I turned out fine.’ That is great. I accept your opinion. Although, when your daughter comes home from elementary school crying because someone called her a bitch, you might change your tune.”—"How I Sold the Year’s Most Violent Video Game to Small Children," Kotaku
“No. 1: [Books are] still readable when the Cloud goes down. No. 2: They make great kindling. No. 3: Push comes to shove, they’re great insulating material. You could make a little igloo out of books if you really had to. I think of them as a form of carbon sequestration – all the CO2 is tied up in books. They don’t decay for a long time, if you bury them deep enough. It has to be below the ant level.”—Margaret Atwood to Salon
“I just live in Wisconsin because that’s where I’m from. It’s cheap. It’s awesome. It’s gorgeous. You don’t have to deal with idiots very often. People are usually like, ‘Oh you play in a band? That’s cool. Good job!’ In L.A., it’s like, ‘You play in a band? What band? I play in a band.’ Fuck that.”—Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon to Amos Barshad at Grantland
“What I say is, a town isn’t a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it’s got a bookstore, it knows it’s not foolin’ a soul.”—American Gods, Neil Gaiman (via idratherbereading)
THE PARIS REVIEW: The use of brand names in your novels especially seems to irk some critics.
STEPHEN KING: I always knew people would have a problem with that. But I also knew that I was never going to stop doing it, and nobody was ever going to convince me that I was wrong to do it. Because every time I did it, what I felt inside was this little bang! like I nailed it dead square—like Michael Jordan on a fade-away jump shot. Sometimes the brand name is the perfect word, and it will crystallize a scene for me. When Jack Torrance is pumping down that Excedrin in The Shining, you know just what that is. I always want to ask these critics—some are novelists, some of them college literature professors—What the fuck do you do? Open your medicine cabinet and see empty gray bottles? Do you see generic shampoo, generic aspirin? When you go to the store and you get a six-pack, does it just say beer? When you go down and you open your garage door, what’s parked in there? A car? Just a car?
And then I say to myself, I bet they do. Some of these guys, the college professors—the guy, say, whose idea of literature really stopped with Henry James, but he’ll get kind of a frozen smile on his face if you talk about Faulkner or Steinbeck—they’re stupid about American fiction and they’ve turned their stupidity into a virtue. They don’t know who Calder Willingham was. They don’t know who Sloan Wilson was. They don’t know who Grace Metalious was. They don’t know who any of these people are, and they’re fucking proud of it. And when they open their medicine cabinet door, I think maybe they do see generic bottles, and that’s a failure of observation. And I think one of the things that I’m supposed to do is to say, It’s a Pepsi, OK? It’s not a soda. It’s a Pepsi. It’s a specific thing. Say what you mean. Say what you see. Make a photograph, if you can, for the reader.