Jorge Luis Borges and J. G. Ballard, c. 1971.
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About Me
- Simon King
- Canterbury, Kent, United Kingdom
- You could say that my life is one big tragedy. A foreigner in every country I walk into, an abject failure with women and a writer who rarely lets anyone read his laghauble material. I might be a defeatist - I'm not sure; I might simply be neurotic; or maybe I'm too intelligent for my own good... or too dumb. I'm just one big fucking paradox. I find redemption in the countryside; I find redemption in cinema and literature. I found a university course which covers my interests, yet... the prescriptive analysis is already tiring the fuck out of me. I don't like people, I don't like crowds, I don't like noise. I want to live in the clouds, I want to live in my own fucking universe, writing little short stories til kingdom fucking come. And what's stopping me? Fear.
Best Outpourings
- An Assessment
- Playing the Truant: My Education
- Thoughts on Psychosis
- Top 10 Writers
- Top 10 Directors
- Captain Beefheart: An Appreciation
- Polar Opposites in the Arts
- The Unconscious Forces in Julio Cortázar's House Taken Over
- Book by Book: J. G. Ballard's Bibliography
- Provinciality in English Fiction
- Confronting Reality
- My Heroes
- Some Diary Entries
- My Book Collection
Some sort of disclaimer
My Other Blogs
Other Blogs Worth Reading
I'll stay up all night to read by candlelight.
Summary
2 comments:
I bet they were talking about the weather...
Ha, ha!
I was overwhelmed to find this photograph when flicking through a Ballard biography earlier on in the day. Surprsing Jim never commented about it, apparently SF writer Moorock said he found Borges to be quite disappointing in person.
If Borges was acquainted with his work, I'd be intrigued to know his opinion about it (some of Ballard's writing is vaguely Borgesian...)
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