no, the bridge lived under me

Back from the Chapbook Festival. Awesome time. Deep thanks to Ana Božičević for all her work. Met some lovely folks, peddled some handmade books. On the bus back, I read Charles Portis's Norwood. What a gut stun. Hilarious, sharp. Pre-cursor to the Coen brothers. Somebody once called Portis "Cormac McCarthy with a sense of humor" which isn't fair to Cormac McCarthy but which makes for a nice segue into this link to a sentence I wrote for Big Other about a sentence in McCarthy's majorfest Suttree. Want to read everything by Portis now. More thoughts soon.

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