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Jeffrey Toobin, Tao Lin, Primal Scream, new story, "Creep," The Sound of Jazz

Saturday 8/13/22

Did you know that when Jeffrey Toobin was a staff writer at The New Yorker that New Yorker editor in chief David Remnick was aware that Toobin, a married man with kids, would follow women he did not know home from parties--he'd take a cab in pursuit--and ask them if they wanted to be fisted by him? It's funny that people think that the Zoom masturbation was Toobin's worst offense at The New Yorker. We'll be detailing them on here, and what Remnick had no problem with, because that's the kind of evil guy David Remnick is. There was no public outcry, so Toobin stayed on. It was only the embarrassing nature of the masturbation fiasco--and all of the jokes--that Remnick--again, an evil guy--had any problem with and thought something should be done. That's when he fired Toobin. And you know what? Following women home--and again, while married with kids, which makes it even worse as a creepy stalker psycho, bad enough though that is on its own--and asking if he could fist them--you can look it up--isn't even the worst thing Toobin did while at The New Yorker, which David Remnick countenanced, accepted, and enabled. We'll get to it. I mention Toobin now because CNN let him go yesterday. All of the times people had to look at his flabby, nasty mug, thinking of him jerking himself. Why on earth would you keep that guy on? More to come regarding Toobin and David Remnick and The New Yorker. Remember: To Remnick, I'm the bad guy, the worst guy conceivable, with my ability, because I am everything he is not and envy rules these people. So then he'll go have a conversation bitching about me to Daniel Zalewski.

You may have seen footage from the "literary festival" at which Salman Rushdie was attacked yesterday. Did you notice how everyone there was like 100-years-old? Kind of telling, right? It's because the publishing industry has killed off reading and there is nothing new that comes out that is worth reading. There hasn't been for a long time. I watched all of these tributes to Rushdie roll out on Twitter, from people who have clearly never read his books. What happens is, publishing people know to praise certain people. It's automatic. Doesn't matter what they write, or if they've read it. I have a challenge for you. Don't spend the money, because it's not worth it, but look online for Rushdie's writing. I'm sure you can grab something that Remnick published in The New Yorker. How boring is that? It feels like punishment trying to get through it, doesn't it? Why would you read it if you don't have to? If you do happen to have a book of his--maybe someone gave it to you--take it off the shelf, because I bet you haven't read it. Try and read it. That's a bad time, right? Granta (pretend) loves Rushdie, in the none-of-this-shit-is-sincere way of publishing. And as we've seen in these pages, Granta also does everything it can to promote Tao Lin, a terrible writer in a different vein, and evil person. Here's something for you: go on Google and type in "Tao Lin rape" and "Tao Lin plagiarism." Try and read something by Lin, too. Is it possible to believe it's not terrible? Seems not very possible, right? So with all of that, realize that Granta--which you've likely never heard of if you're not in publishing, though it's billed as one of the best magazines in the world--does everything it can to promote someone who writes like that and has that moral character. When he has a novel come out, Granta excerpts it and tells people it's amazing. I know--it sounds impossible. All of this sounds impossible, because there's nothing else this twisted. I get it. But it's all real, and one can see for one's self.

My former mentee/current neighbor/soon-to-be-high school senior texted me tonight, or really early this morning. The middle of the night to her, the start of the day for me. She only texts me when she wants or needs something, but she and her dad did definitely help me out with that Zoom presentation I did on the Sam Cooke book. She wanted to know if I knew Primal Scream. I'm a resource. She discovered them a couple days ago, so I gave her recommendations--the obvious stuff like Screamadelica and XTRMNTR, but also Live in Japan and their early radio sessions. She told me she had been listening to music all day. Also asked what my favorite Joy Division song was, and I could only pick one, so I sent her The Smart Set piece on "Ceremony," which she only new from the New Order version. She said that she cleared her Spotify, and was looking for new bands, and this is what I recommended: "Zombies, Stone Roses, Yardbirds, Animals, Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio, Five Royales, Grateful Dead (American Beauty, Europe '72, Live/Dead), Beach Boys (Wild Honey, Smile sessions), Jerry Lee Lewis's Live at the Star Club, Television, Sly and the Family Stone, Elvis's Sun Sessions, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Eric Dolphy's Out to Lunch, Beethoven's late string quartets.

FM: I feel doomed every time I listen to Joy Division and that's all I've been listening to

FM: I've been listening to so much sad music I think it's driving me up a wall

C: So listen to something happier.

C: Wild Honey.

FM: I would listen to happier stuff but I think I'm addicted to sad music

FM: Joy Division is immersive as fuuckkk I've been listening to them constantly and it makes me want to rip my small intestine out but it makes me physically ill to listen to anything else

FM: I have a problem with getting fixated on things but the dreadful feeling that comes when I obsess over something gradually goes away

FM: Good night Colin

C: Take care of yourself. Try to mix it up. Make sure you get out later today. Good night.

I worked on a short story, "The Day I Met God," and signed off on the final version. I go over things very hard. An outstanding story. What can I say? Again, I'm not going to pretend that something remarkable, special, timeless, is anything else but, or could be done by anyone else. I sent it to a place I don't want to put up on here, but I'm prepared to do so, knowing what I know and having taken what I've taken for as long as I have. I also sent it to some people I know. I've done less of that in the past few months, only sending them the longer works, but that's more a matter of me just having so much and creating so much.

I re-pitched something on Radiohead's "Creep." To wit:

Feel really strongly about this one--think it's good. Radiohead's "Creep" as one of the best songs ever written. I mean, like top dozen songs ever. What should be a standard among all-time standards. An Irving Berlin level song. They disavow it and have a weird history with it. But contrary to what the lazy accepted history says, it's the one Radiohead song that would work on every single Radiohead album, the best thing they ever wrote, the most incisive, a radical work of sonic experimentation in addition to everything else, and truly ageless. I wanna show the song the love it deserves in a real and smart way, correct some things, challenge a fresh listen. 30th anniversary of its release is September 21.

Also pitched a feature on The Sound of Jazz, the TV program that aired in early December 1957, as the most significant representation of jazz on TV.

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