Bruce Wagner - Dead Stars

* He went on a “Rapture” site recently, out of curiosity. It said that the ascension to the Heavens would come at dusk, or the late afternoon.

* Permission to reprint rest of lyrics denied by rights holder. — author .

* Permission to reprint rest of lyrics denied by rights holder. — author .

* Imagine the unendurable agony of the members of the above, the depressed, depressive Whores With No Name Class as they watch, like invalids, the hypnotic, rainy day, addictive, back-to-pack X Factor (UK & US) auditions on YouTube, going back so many years. Confronted by the spectacle of other (Non Chore-Whoring) No-Names bursting forth to become instant supernovas, their tears turn them into pillars of Loser Salt. Consider their anguish, watching — knowing — the fecundity of a universe that is constantly spitting out new stars. . while they remain eternally condemned to the purgatory of the Stillborn.

They cannot even be dead stars , for they were never stars at all.

* Before at long last being remanded to the loving care of Engineer Jim and his “Dawnie.”

* As quoted in London Review of Books , May 27, 2010.

* The New York Review of Books , February 24, 2011.

* When it’s time for a cable auteur’s fawning, metacritical dicksuck (usually coinciding with the release of the complete DVDs of his show), brain surgeon Ms. Moore makes a savory mouthpiece; there are few things sweeter than egghead head. The novelist has shown herself to be down with the squad/groupie — ready to traitorously jump the ship of her own craft: in a wet pantiesgyric to The Wire in the pages of NYRB (if only David Milch was still around for her to service!), she calls David Simon’s Baltimore a “quiet rebuke to its own great [in the dialect of the Brownnose Indians, Moore employs “great” as a means of softening the already soft snarkiness of her takedown] living novelists, Anne Tyler and John Barth [is Barth great? is he living?]” and goes on to pamdesbarres the anus by asserting that her beloved show is “arguably biblical, Dantesque. . the series’s creators know what novelists know [ooh, I’ll bet]. . whether time comes [like a jackhammer ] in the form of pages or hours. On DVD, it can be watched all at once, over 60 hours: this particular manner of viewing makes the literary accolades and comparisons to a novel more justified and true. . The Wire has much in common with the plays of George Bernard Shaw. [It] embraces the Wildean sense of art’s cleverness as well as its uselessness.” In a companion cockstroke/rimjob of Friday Night Lights offered in the same pub, the brainy, brain-giving plaster caster begins by sharing with the reader her slutty surprise and delight in finding herself at a Manhattan book party “locked in enthusiastic conversation in a corner with two other writers [Barth & Tyler? Toni & Fran?], all three of us, we discovered, solitary, isolated viewers of the NBC series Friday Night Lights. ” After referencing Janet Malcolm, Wozzeck & Daniel Mendelsohn, the pundit pantycreams about FNL being filled with actors who are “disconcertingly attractive young people with pink, wavy mouths.” A final quote from Moore: “In fact, two characters on The Wire are murdered [Barth? Toni? Tyler? Fran?] in David Simon’s Baltimore just in time for the excellent actors who play them to join Friday Night Lights. ” From Friday Night Lights to The Wire then back again — this gangbanger knows how to righteously 69!

* Ooh Baby Baby It’s A Wild World Films was named after Brando’s mother’s favorite song. Tolkin was of the opinion that naming a production company thus was “heinously charming — or charmingly heinous. Either way, something about it works.”

* Bud’s detailed fantasy drew on the results of research he once did for a still unfinished script.

*. . never be eulogized for having a big brain that finally crashed down around him like a chandelier, its footnotes scattering like gewgaw frippery.

* Permission to reprint lyrics denied by rights holder. — Author.

* Permission to reprint lyrics denied by rights holder. — Author.

* Or write one of those short books about salt or the word bullshit. “A Brief History of Brief Histories ” by Bud Wiggins was another possibility.