In the home stretch of A Writer in His Time. Frank has employed thousands of words for the sake of analyzing A Raw Youth and I cannot even begin to describe all the shits I am hoarding.* Get to Karamazov already.
Listened to The Black Keys for the first time in a while, Catch and Release. It's pleasing enough, but there's just something so precious about affluent white men playing (at) the blues. (Aware of the irony? Yes.)
*This isn't strictly true. It is interesting to read about how Dostoevsky managed to create such a deeply flawed work in between the masterpieces of Demons and The Brothers Karamazov.
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