The King of Cornwall
Euphemia's Brother
And This - 5
lost in a reverie... the vast open plains of idaho, of nebraska (and we don't want none of that jd salinger kind of crap around here!) the twat's an arse! i expect he writes or doesn't write his writs on a typewriter, with a ribbon and everything and bottles of tippex, and carbon paper... like an old decrepit (isn't it about time he died, anyway?)
a day in tombstone arizona, just passing through
and why would you want american fiction when you can have russian? why would you want a coke instead of vodka? (i like my vodka served best on a silver platter in a vladivostok brothel, with a dash of absinthe and grappa)
for fuck sake, roark's better than caulfield, and what's more, he'd whoop him in a fistfight (and that updike too, he's a dick)
and dostoevsky's better than oprah, but so what... i'm living in america cos i like american food, steaks, pancakes, eggs over easy... apple pie and bubblegum, the wide open frontier, the dust-smells of texas
but catcher in the rye, that's for girls
a day in kansas city, stopping for drinks
