Why didn’t I read this right when it came out? A deep pleasure to read. I love this sort of neither-memoir-nor-essay writing.

It made me feel a lot of feels, but genuinely and without stilted pathos or melodrama. It’s pretentious as all fuck, make no mistake, but also direct in parts in a way that is rare and nice.

The obsession with fucking bores me, but then again, I am myself.