What I do for a living, I do with words. I'm a hack, but I'm a hack that loves his tools. I have an affection for them. I appreciate it when language is used effectively. It doesn't matter to me if the words are spoken, written, sung or read... I love 'em.
Thomas Pynchon is a kung-fu grand master word slinger. He is as good as it gets. His name belongs alongside the greats. Hemingway, Murakami, Gibson, Le Guin, Neruda... In his own way, he is every bit as powerful as anyone who has ever picked up a pen. (read more...)
Imagine your favorite funny man on stage. Now imagine said funny man walking off stage and out into the audience. One hand holds the mic, and the other...
A three foot machete.
He's killing it.
Joke after joke, punctuated with wild and unpredictable swings of that fucking machete. The audience is terrified... But they can't leave because they are laughing too hard.
That's Pynchon. He's dangerous. He sucks you in with his pretty words, and guts you before you know what's happening.
The movie? I haven't seen it. I'm sure it will be great. Paul Thomas Anderson is more than suited to the task. As an aside, in my brain? When I first read the book? I had Jeff Bridges pictured as Doc, and Benicio Del Toro as Sauncho. One out of two ain't bad. I'm sure that Juaquin will kill it in the lead. He's a logical choice.
I wonder if Pynchon, the most infamous recluse since Salinger, will go see it? Honestly? How could he not? Given... I am thinking like me... the hack... not like a future Nobel Prize winner. I would be there opening day. Hiding in the back row. Hoping the movie rocked. Hoping people loved it.
Pynchon? Who knows. The closest thing to a public appearance that the guy has done was a spot on the Simpson's...