Onto bus. Lovely sunny day. Quite funny to watch. He was fine. Just too much beer. Got past security man w my drink, basically gulpin it in his face. Besides, he looks about So many people pissing so I walked on round to get space to go. Went, then ended up out at different spot to where I came in. No Paul K or Cormac. No sign.
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I felt like punchin him right in the fuckin nose hard as I could. No one has a hard muscly ballsack or nose, so it woulda threw him til I ran away, maybe even with my cap! Plus the blood woulda had him shittin himself. I just moved on into the crowd. Drunkenness kicked in bit too much. Sat on the ground for a bit during Sharon Shannon. Think I dozed in the sun — like a lotta people there. Good to see them. Familiar, homely people in a sea of strangers.
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Still no sign of Paul K or Cormac. Oasis were brilliant. New song Roll With It is class. Michael stipe is a LUNE. Mad… Finished with fireworks. On my own at the end, it was when I was wonderin how I was gonna find my bus home when I heard someone callin me. It was Paul Fagan. He knew where to go. On bus, Paul K said he was lookin out for me all day.
Writing of drunken blackouts, Judge admits, “I could have done anything and not know it”
Main thing was, we all enjoyed the day, regardless. Cormac got tore into more cans on the way home.
I slept. Dozed in her car, too.
Great day. Other highlights of the year would be my 18th birthday, the last day of A-Levels, and results night. What do you think of yourself when you look back at what you wrote? I think I was a silly weirdo and am glad I stayed that way. How long do you think you will keep sharing them? I started keeping a daily diary again in when I documented another full year. A few years ago all I had was a certain ambition and an understanding, more or less, of how things work in this world. I lived in the tiny room of a pension on B street. Funds were running low. I was eighteen years old when I was introduced to the fascinating world of Alasdair Gray.
I read Poor Things in the second year of my undergraduate degree at the University of Glasgow,. On the ancient river, seagull rock crests out of the waters. An outcrop within its sight is thorned by a few young silhouettes, taking turns plunging into the river some feet below. Riverboats and water taxis, white river cruise-ships weave short and cyclical tours between the two shores.
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In the spring of , the entomologist Johann Friedrich Wilhelm Herbst, as a means to supplement his lectures at the newly founded Berliner Tierarzneischule. Both books are sweet, funny, deeply human, and sometimes shocking inspirations. Possessing talent in spades, Questlove's accomplishments are many, but it is his encyclopedic knowledge and abiding passion for music past and present that set him in another realm.
Mo' Meta Blues is a candid, thoughtful, well-written work full of humility, humor, and anti-hubris. Erudite and entertaining, Questlove's memoir is much more than a mere record of his career — it's a sensitive, observant take on a life lived in, with, through, and surrounded by meaningful music. Rudolf Rocker was an amazing man, and his story is an amazing story.
A German anarchist exiled to London, he learned Yiddish and organized the radical Jewish community from the time he arrived to the time he was arrested during WWI. From teaching the classics to forming labor unions, from editing papers to organizing mass demonstrations, Rocker was a man whose sole goals were human dignity and total liberation.
This book tells the story of a woman born and raised into one of the most mysterious and controversial religious organizations in the world — Scientology. Jenna Miscavige Hill's memoir offers a window into the reality of life inside of Scientology, a notoriously secretive religion. It's more revealing than other books on the topic due to Hill's relationship with her uncle, the current leader of the church.
Beyond Belief is a powerful read you won't be able to put down. In , Javier Marias published a novel titled All Souls. Many readers assumed it to be a fictionalized account of his time as a professor at Oxford.
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In Dark Back of Time , Marias describes his return to Oxford, and his attempts to reclaim his previous book and its characters as pure fiction. In doing so, he ends up writing an exceptional memoir about the nature of time and perception and the fluidity of identity. While most memoirs speak of a situation a person finds himself or herself in, The Sex Lives of Cannibals is self-inflicted. Troost travels to a tiny island in the South Pacific and tells of his trials. I read this as a Peace Corps volunteer in a tropical climate and was extremely empathetic to the author's frustrations and angst toward the locals, climate, and lack of good beer.
After compiling my short list of unconventional memoirs, I discovered that one author was listed twice. You just can't go wrong when you read a book by Oliver Sacks. A breezy yet melancholic account of the years Charles Willeford spent bumming around the southern United States during the depression, I Was Looking for a Street is a practical, unsentimental portrait of a very young man in an impoverished country.
It's amusing and sad but by no means tragic. Bonus: lots of good stuff about hats. While most memoirs explore the intricacies of the self, Holy Land indulges in a different kind of exploration — one specifically tied to place. Waldie grew up in the '50s in Lakewood, California — a sprawling planned community that signified the beginning of a new era in American living.
Through prose as modest as the homes in the Lakewood housing development, we bear witness to the birth of a suburb and come to see that beyond its eerily similar structures and carefully maintained plots of land lies a community with history and endurance and life quietly asserting itself in small gestures.
In the first hundred pages of The Sunflower , Holocaust survivor Simon Wiesenthal recounts his encounter with a dying German soldier who asked to speak with "a Jew" in order to seek forgiveness.