De Amerikaanse schrijver Joshua Ferris werd op 8 november 1974 in Danville, Illinois, geboren. Zie ook alle tags voor Joshua Ferris op dit blog.
Uit: A Calling for Charlie Barnes
“Steady Boy woke, showered and spritzed, skipped breakfast for the time being, and headed in to work. Oh, what a glorious morning! Maybe. The weather in the basement was unknown. The computer required waking. Made its little nibbling noises when stirred from its slumber, said its staticky hellos. The old office chair. The cold basement damp. Steady Boy had a desk calendar from 1991, a letter opener in the fashion of a gem-encrusted rapier, a ratty-ass Rolodex, and at his feet a rug. The rug, however, made moving around in the roller chair a living hell. So a sheet—listen to this. This is a true story. A sheet of stamped plastic specifically designed to facil-itate the easy rolling of roller chairs in challenging terrain was purchased from Office Depot some years hack by Steady Boy—Steady Boy? No one had called him that in thirty, forty years. Back then, Charlie Barnes had found it hard to keep a job, either because the pay was bad, or the boss was a dick, or the work itself was a pain in the ass, and someone, an uncle, probably, dubbed him Steady Boy and the name stuck, the way “Tiny” will stick to a big fat man. Steady Boy’s knocking off early again, Steady Boy’s calling in sick… that sort of thing. The paying gig that another man considered manna from heaven was for Steady Boy an encroachment on private land. Ile valued his freedom. lie enjoyed his sleep. He liked to read the funny pages at his leisure. So much for all that. Steady Boy was Mr. Charles A. Barnes now, sixty-eight years old that morning, a small businessman and father of four, and likely to live forever.
Ah, but it was all pretense and fakery. He was a big fat fraud! Shouldn’t think like that, but it was true. Goddamn it was, certainly where his teeth were concerned. Other areas, too. His achievements, his…framed certificates. Big deal! He hadn’t even finished college. Hang that up on your wall, Steady Boy. Failure number one, as far as he was concerned: no college degree. Failure number two: all the times he lied about having a college degree. Failure number three: all, screw this. (Failure number three was his reluctance to look back too long.) He was too proud and too pressed for time to be reviewing all his damn failures. We’d be here all year. Steady Boy didn’t have a year. Steady Boy had cancer, that’s what he had.
But hey, not just any cancer. The big kahuna of cancers: pancreatic. Heard about that one? Cancer of the pancreas is the piano that falls from the sky. You have time to glance up, maybe. Then, splat! Like a bug on the cosmic grille. His achievements—ha! He’d spent half his life prepping the next big thing. It never panned out. Steady Boy did not, in fact, have a hard time holding down a job. He just never wanted to be a sucker, a schlub, or a midlevel this or that. Like anyone, he had hoped to make a killing, become a household name, live forever. Well, he would not, now. That was just a done deal. We really need to stop calling him Steady Boy. Good God, he thought first thing as he took a seat at his desk, the failures! All the marketing materials he still had somewhere, still shrink-wrapped. Bales of the stuff. Beautiful four-color trifold brochures in service to nothing now, nothing.”
De Engelse dichteres en schrijfster Anne Sexton werd geboren op 9 november 1928 in Newton, Massachusetts. Zie ook alle tags voor Anne Sexton op dit blog.
VANUIT DE TUIN
Kom, mijn geliefde,
denk aan de lelies.
Wij zijn kleingelovig.
Wij praten te veel.
Doe je mond vol woorden weg
en kom met me mee om te zien
hoe de lelies zich openen in zo’n veld,
waar ze groeien als jachten,
hun bloemblaadjes langzaam besturen
zonder verpleegsters of klokken.
Laten we denken aan het uitzicht;
een wit huis waar witte wolken
de modderige zalen versieren.
Oh, doe je goede woorden weg
en je slechte woorden. Spuug uit
je woorden als stenen!
Kom hier! Kom hier!
Kom, eet mijn heerlijke vruchten.
Vertaald door Frans Roumen
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 8e november ook mijn blog van 8 november 2018 en eveneens mijn blog van 8 november 2015 deel 2.