Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, by Philip K. Dick
McTeague, by Frank Norris
The Lost Weekend, by Charles Jackson
Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture, by Douglas Coupland
The Ladies’ Paradise, by Émile Zola.
Lord of the Flies, William Golding
Math is a zany 60s comedy, a Woody Allen kind of thing, but with a wink-wink/nudge-nudge aesthetic that just doesn’t hold up. You liked it when you were younger, but then you discovered girls.
“This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence—even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche on the San Francisco rental market
If it wasn’t for disappointment, I wouldn’t have any appointments.
Which are you?
George Orwell’s Animal Farm, Rated X.
The art publisher at the tradeshow assures me that I can enjoy a measure of job security.
This land is making me thirsty.
The manual of IT secret handshakes.