To Ann Kellett, for David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, Bret Easton Ellis’ Lunar Park, and Walter Benn Michaels’ The Shape of the Signifier. Looking forward to diving into each of these in its turn just as soon as I buy a nice satin smoking jacket. And maybe one of those fancy leather reading chairs with the big rivets.
— Because it’s impossible not to feel smart sitting in one of those fancy leather reading chairs—even when I’m just lounging around in my boxers with a bowl of Life cereal and the latest People. Has something to do with the odor of leisure, I think.
Leisure smells of rich mahogany, as I understand it.
A SATIN smoking jacket? You barbarian.
Steal the ‘dillo’s Calabash while you’re at it. The black cavendish is in the toe of the Persian slipper on the mantelpiece…
Never underestimate the power of fine grained leather. I worked in a Wilson’s in Dallas and sold over $1,000,000 leather coats, in TEXAS, in a year. It’s 114 in August and I’m selling trench coats! That stuff sales it’s self.
Leather is your sense of touch’s version of chocolate or possibly crack cocaine.
My world smells of Formica and plastic palm trees.
With overtones of Habanos and Single Malt.
TW: In my chair in the study.
Don’t forget your sheared beaver throw blanket!
TW – Dead.
Hey, where are my thanks!?!?! I sent you that copy of the Book of Mormon, and several New Testaments, and arranged to have those Jehovah’s Witnesses come talk with you about your hell-bound soul.
Ungrateful perfidious Hebrew.
Make sure you get that chair in the soft Corinthian leather*, Jeff. There is no substitute for (reality-based) quality.
* h/t Retardo Montalban.
TW: since, well, at least 1970.
Robert,
Ding Ding Ding! A winnah!
BTW, those aren’t rivets, they’re upholstery tacks. Just thought an hermeneutist such as yourself should be using the proper etymology.
Nothing smells like a black leather Harley-Davidson jacket.
Especially after it has had a few (fortunatly) short trips sliding on asphalt.
Dont know who exactly decided that a cow was designed to slide down the highway.
That’s why cattle guards were invented.
The sliding cows presented quite a traffic hazzard.
Hey, where are my thanks!?!?! I sent you that copy of the Book of Mormon, and several New Testaments, and arranged to have those Jehovah’s Witnesses come talk with you about your hell-bound soul.
Ungrateful perfidious Hebrew.
Which by the way is a great way of getting rid of same should they ever darken your doorstep. Simply say that you are jewish. It works even better in hebrew and helps to say you’re in the middle of a briss.
The dude abides!
Cloud Atlas is pretty good for being all experimental and shit.
f