Personal Western Cannon

Saw Norman Rush read from his novel Mortals at this evening's Agni/Conjunctions-sponsored lit fest at The New School. Rush & Company were straight up good enough to cause panic attacks. I. Shit. You. Not. Lacking an appropriate degree of reget for time you've wasted drinking/chasing teenage girls/watching reruns of Deep Space Nine or just generally fucking off, instead of writing? Had ya been there, you'd be hating yourself for it now. You damn slackers! No one gets good as these folks without utter committment.

Also, reading Bobbie Ann Mason's 1989 Love Life. Let me be clear. I absolutely revere Ms. Mason and strongly believe Shiloh to be one the best short story collections of the 1980s. Love Life, however, seems to only occasionally approach its predecessor's brilliance. It should be noted that a few particularly dazzling stories like Hunktown and Marita make the whole ride more than worth the price of admission.

Update: Having both remembered that Big Bertha Stories was part of Love Life and read more of the collection I rescind my previous remarks.