HOMAGE WEEK #2: Try too hard to be Vladimir Nabokov


Given the prurient vigilance of my (if I am permitted to say) chaetiferous would-be lapidators, I fear and suspect that this tristisonous recounting of my own purgative and perhaps, I will readily admit, parachronistic account of the circumstances surrounding the events of which we were previously talking may prove to be somewhat invidious. As you are no doubt already cognisant, I am resident – have been resident – remain resident – in what is perhaps best described as an establishment whose express purpose is the containment of persons of what might be termed, I suppose, sociological interest (persons, it is now painfully evident, such as myself).

10 comments:

  1. Oh, dear... I've read much to much fiction of that type recently, and none of it written by Nabokov...

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  2. I'd love a lapidator,chaetiferous or otherwise!

    :-)

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  3. Holy cow. Remind me not to read any Nabokov. :P At least I could understand the Hemingway one.

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  4. I had to pull out the dictionary for this one. Very well done. :)

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  5. The problem with Hemingway is that he is 180 degrees different from Vladimir Nabokov. When reading Ernie, I feel like I was transported into a putrid desert from the vibrant rain forest that is Nabokov.

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  6. There aren't enough puns or obscure references to literature that no one has ever read.

    I mean, I love Nabokov to death, but he makes my brain bleed.

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  7. I understood almost none of that. Thanks! XD

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