I have kind of been obsessed with Miranda July since I rediscovered her via her self-titled retrospective book. Over the past few months, I read Miranda July; watched Me, You, and Everyone We Know, The Future, The Amateurist; listened to The Metal Bowl, Roy Spivey
I just finished her book of short stories – No One Belongs Here More Than You – and loved it as much as all her other stuff.
I should have left the second I saw he didn’t have Alzheimer’s. But I had a tingling in my arms. I was an angel looking down into the world, into one car on the world, into two members of mankind, into their souls, and into the place behind their souls: the void. She looked up, our eyes clicked, she remembered me from Early Chinese Philosophical Texts. Madeleine L’Engle’s husband opened his mouth. I could tell he was about to use one of the five question words: who, what, why, where, or when.