“I, like an idiot, put it all on the internet”
From Lars Iyer’s Spurious, as quoted in a nice review here:
’Compare our friendship,’ says W., ‘to that of Levinas and Blanchot’. Of their correspondence, only a handful of letters survive. Of ours, which takes the form of obscenities and drawings of cocks exchanged on Microsoft Messenger, everything survives, although it shouldn’t. Of their near daily exchanges, nothing is known; of our friendship, everything is known, since I, like an idiot, put it all on the internet.
Looking forward to reading this, when my copy arrives. Feel a strange kinship with LI, despite never having met him, as it feels like we’ve both been doing our versions of the depressive lit blog for a long time, almost from the very beginning.
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