“And I had come to feel, too, that to live in fear of death was to experience death with every pang or twinge of fear rather than just the once, and that all fear of death was but the fear of life: that when the fear of danger holds us from doing, we do not live. It is not what we do in life that kills us. It is what we do not do that kills us.”
—Nick Tosches, In the Hand of Dante (2002)
July 2009
41 posts
“The publishing industry, which was supposed to be the means that brought me and readers together, had become the wall of dead culture that kept us apart, the living from the living. Fuck the Berlin Wall and fuck Pink fucking Floyd. It was the wall of mediocrity that needed to be brought down.”
—Nick Tosches, In the Hand of Dante (2002)
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“San Diego Serenade,” by Tom Waits, from The Heart of Saturday Night (1974).
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Anyway.
Overheard: “My first wife was a novelist. She had a publisher and everything. Anyway, after she left me I thought to get back at her maybe I’d hang on to every love letter she ever wrote me. Someday when she dies, I’ll get ‘em published, make a few bucks. But after she dies I find the box of letters in my attic. I’d torn a few of them up, so I had to tape them back together to read them. I took the whole box to Black Rock City, poof, let ‘em all go up in smoke. That was my first time going. Anyway, I just divorced my third wife last year. They say you never forget your first of something. Anyway, I used to be a guy who saves stuff because you never know when you’ll need it, but right now I’m kind of in a purging phase in my life.”
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