LaVar Hosting Jeopardy July 26-30 Stan Account 👁

I am reading the Call Me By Your Name book and it is T O R T U R E. It makes me want to say things that I have long since taught myself not to say, about how the relationship between reader and writer parallels romance, how we conceive of ourselves as known via misprision.

I don’t remember why I taught myself not to be so melodramatic but it must have been because it was corny. Cracked cauldron on which we knock out tunes for dancing bears when we wish to conjure pity from the stars—an allusion to Hamlet.

It’s nonsense like this that makes me want to stop caring about anything as unimportant as politics and the survival of bodies and makes me only want to care about the care and crafting of souls. And I’m sure there’s something wise I don’t have about how those are the same thing.

Anyway this is why I don’t read capital-R Romantic books, and CERTAINLY not gay ones. But being a melancholy reader is really what this body is built for; all the rest of it’s side effects and contortions and duty.

But on the bright side The Boy Is Mine is playing in Cafe Brazil and that’s making me feel more like a real boy again.

Also oh my god the CMBYN book is SO racist. And it was written in 2007!!!!

Oh my god Elio’s dad’s speech is even WORSE in the book I am dying. “Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version” WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME ANDRE ACIMAN?