Awkward

Oh, Nabokov. I love watching you make out with the English language.

...in the lacquer of its elytra a gouache of sky and branches was engulfed; in the metal of one of the bomb-shaped lamps we ourselves were momentarily reflected, lean filmland pedestrians passing along the convex surface...
–from "Spring in Fialta"

Equally awkward and awesome: Michael Bierut muses on the phenomenon that is bershon, and manages to relate it to the phenomenon of "lounge act" author photos.

I have a slew of bershon pictures uploaded but set to private on my Flickr account; when I'm ready to unleash the horror of my own teenage angst on this world, you (and maybe Sarah Brown) will be the first to know. For now, just imagine this, sans moustache, with mediocre self-esteem and an unhealthy obsession with flannel, REM, and ill-fitting jeans.

© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.