In honor of…

this, this happened – here.

We’d be lucky to still have you, George, or Eric Arthur Blair, or whoever you were.  I fell in love with your sour, pessimistic-yet-whimsically-longing-for-a-simpler-time works in a Senior honors single-author course and I’ll never forget how right you were about so many things and, still, how repugnant my moderately-modern sentimentality finds some of your thought.

I still hope to someday write a long, convoluted piece on how Saul Bellow was the eyes, Orwell the nose, and some yet unforeseen author the ears of the becoming-modern essential-face.

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