how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

There will never be another Harry Crews, a writer who compromised nothing. He died Wednesday, and there's an excellent obit in The New York Times here. If you haven't read Childhood: A Biography of Place, or Feast of Snakes, I recommend both highly.

I've always admired and agree with his advice to writers:

“If you wait until you got time to write a novel, or time to write a story, or time to read the hundred thousands of books you should have already read - if you wait for the time, you will never do it. ‘Cause there ain’t no time; world don’t want you to do that. World wants you to go to the zoo and eat cotton candy, preferably seven days a week.”

By the way, the tattoo on his arm is the last two lines of e.e. cummings' poem that starts buffalo bill’s defunct.