The Daily

Posts Tagged ‘drunkenness’

Horseback Balloonist, and Other News

August 26, 2014 | by


What one did for fun in the eighteenth century. Image via Retronaut

  • Blootered, plonked, fuddled, muckibus: what we talk about when we talk about getting wasted.
  • An interview with Rachel Cusk, whose new novel, Outline, is serialized in The Paris Review: “I’m certain autobiography is increasingly the only form in all the arts. Description, character—these are dead or dying in reality as well as in art.”
  • James Wood on James Kelman: “Kelman’s language is immediately exciting; like a musician, he uses repetition and rhythm to build structures out of short flights and circular meanderings. The working-class Glaswegian author knows exactly how his words will scathe delicate skins; he has a fine sense of attack.”
  • In the UK, literature in translation is enjoying a surge in popularity. “There used to be a feeling translations were ‘good for you’ and not enjoyable … like vegetables … But actually they’re wonderful books.”
  • “Pierre Testu-Brissy was a pioneering French balloonist who achieved fame for making many flights astride animals, particularly horses.”


A Thousand Words for Drunk, and Other News

November 29, 2012 | by

  • “We writers are expert liars. Here are the top three lies we tell ourselves.” On overcoming rejection phobia.
  • More words than you would have believed possible to describe the state of inebriation.
  • The first annual Twitter Fiction Festival.
  • Speaking of Twitter, here’s hoping this hashtag catches on.
  • What to buy for the Janeite in your life: servicey!
  • [tweetbutton]



    On Uncle Vanya: Part Three

    July 5, 2012 | by

    But the reason I was telling this story was because I was reminded of that night in St. Petersburg when I saw Annie Baker’s adaptation of Uncle Vanya. Like Vanya and Astrov, I am middle-aged, a drunk, often despondent—perhaps I am having a midlife crisis—and yes, I am an adulterer. (Vanya and Astrov are only would-be adulterers.) At the time I was trying to pick up this Russian waitress—sitting drunk in the snow-covered park, watching a bear dance at the end of a short rope—I was already an adulterer. Two years before, I had left my first wife for my assistant, who worked in my jewelry store. I drank my way into that affair, and I would drink my way through the divorce.

    But the sad fact was I did not get to sleep with the Russian waitress. This is what actually happened.

    The man with the bear would not leave me alone. Read More »