The main fucked up memoir you’ll ever read.
A foul-mouthed memoir a few dysfunctional life.
Each bankruptcy recounts a key second within the author’s lifestyles during the books she was once analyzing on the time including:
• Howard’s finish, the one textual content she had learn while carrying out sexual intercourse.
• the key Diary of Adrian Mole, which she had in her bag whereas on vacation in Tangier whilst a marketplace dealer provided her to shop for her from her mom for 30 camels.
• Angela’s Ashes, her selected interpreting fabric in the course of her breast relief surgery.
• Wild Swans, the publication she learn the day she made up our minds to don't have anything extra to do along with her mother.
It is humorous, it truly is surprising, it truly is heartbreaking, it's very impolite and it truly is completely unforgettable.
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Additional info for A Fucked Up Life In Books
17510$ $CH1 09-16-09 10:24:18 PS PAGE 32 voices, I transcribe the love letter, I invent a pulpit, behind the veil, hiding the one who, in my illness, loses her way, daughter of a bloodthirsty king, I sneeze, and the breath strikes the vertebra, which burns, she comes to me, sure of her beauty, complexion of straw-colored wine, she sparkles with a fugitive spirit, intoxicated, I undress her, the stars go out, between the wound and the caress, I return to illness, which her lips increase. 33 .................
38 ................. 17510$ $CH1 09-16-09 10:24:19 PS PAGE 38 XXIX I wandered, lost, won, I laugh, cry, alone, in the road, exulting, in the practice, keeping watch, in the morning, at rest, after movement, I drop the bridle, unearth the roots, drained of blood, I cross uncertainty, eyes open, I wreathe the nightmare, from my spittle, I pull out the thread, which unravels my body, my form disappears, my soul remains, outside of its carcass, in the prison of cause, which abrogates sight, I walk on filth, palpable in my nothingness.
49 ................. 17510$ $CH1 09-16-09 10:24:22 PS PAGE 49 XXXVIII I travel in the world, which is a dark night, I visit fifty cities, where solitude begins, ends, phantom cities, ruined neighborhoods, new squares, in the heavens, with the angels, I tremble at the lightning, I am dizzy, in air pockets, fever is a machine, which doesn’t stop, in the black night, I walk at the pace, of an empty spirit, that, in the darkness, sees and does not think. 50 ................. 17510$ $CH1 09-16-09 10:24:23 PS PAGE 50 XXXIX She opens my eyes, my ears, she touches my nostrils, she submerges me in water, in the shade of the tent, she says, do not feel trapped, look at me face-to-face, I am as confused as you, don’t sit down, where the embers blossom, names are the traces of our sharings, don’t gather together the red twigs, don’t throw them, where those who are near, halt, carry the salvation of lovers, bashful, at the limit of themselves, delicate, in the trial, that prevents them from feeling the golden vessels, the silk clothes, crime, penitence, on the road leading to the wood, of their dream.