it’s a bit of a cliché but sometimes there are books that really resonate with you, where you are in life, reflect exactly how you’re feeling – your current malaise.  i picked this book up knowing absolutely nothing about it i honestly just liked the cover and took it home, sneak reading it when the brats were comatose.  it chronicles the travails of a worn out new yorker and her attempts to sleep away a life of cares which she has born and yet must bear.  well not a life exactly but one year.  she uses various cocktails of pharmaceutical grade sleepers to wipe out the bullshit.

the tone is fairly emotionless, matter of fact, even though the underlying subject matter is anything but.  self loathing, dead parents, ennui, disgust for contemporary so – called life…

she works in an art gallery and skewers nicely the emptiness of it all. also murders contemporary materialism.  a breath of fucking fresh air… go and read it if you can. ok there’s a lot of dead parents and funerals and drugs in it but don’t be dismayed by the subject matter. it’s really a breezy read…

by Hugh O'Malley, Beauty Photographer Shanghai

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