Dominic Ward's Blog

There is a lot to love about dudes like Pynchon, Joyce et al.  But even the greats have written shit.  Pynchon’s Vineland starts off promising…really promising.  And then quickly fades into utter, utter shit.  Joyce may have worked big magic with Finn’s Wake and Ulysses, but Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a fucking boring book.  It’s just dumb.

Canker is a disease of plants

Cancer is one of animals.

The only highlight in the whole fucking book.  But I am sure Tim Winton and his sex friend Nick Earls have more to say on the matter.  I was at a strip club on the weekend when a couple of well-known writers went to the private section at the back of the club for the services of the doughnut bangers they had brought with them.  You come near me, you fuckers, I scald you with Chris’s left-over MasterChef spaghetti water.  I had some bad dreams last night.  The Oxycodone Hydrochloride probably didn’t help; I was swept off into a sick world of ultra-violent gangsters that left me wanting to vomit hard as a ferris wheel of death and torture plummeted down.  And then further dreams in the early AM based on a serial killer and violator of girls.  Disgusting.  The sub-conscious is a bad, bad place and anyone who claims to be a avid sailor of those seas is just a faggot loser.  Get off the brugsmansia, kids.